THE OUTLAW
The bitter weather following an autumn of unusual mildness had set in
with the New Year and had continued without a break for fifteen days. A
heavy fall of snow with a blizzard blowing sixty miles an hour had made
the trails almost impassable, indeed quite so to any but to those bent
on desperate business or to Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police. To
these gallant riders all trails stood open at all seasons of the year,
no matter what snow might fall or blizzard blow, so long as duty called
them forth.
The trail from the fort to the Big Horn Ranch, however, was so
wind-swept that the snow was blown away, which made the going fairly
easy, and the Superintendent, Inspector Dickson and Jerry trotted along
freely enough in the face of a keen southwester that cut to the bone.
It was surely some desperate business indeed that sent them out into
the face of that cutting wind which made even these hardy riders, burned
hard and dry by scorching suns and biting blizzards, wince and shelter
their faces with their gauntleted hands.
“Deuce of a wind, this!” said the Superintendent.
“It is the raw southwester that gets to the bone,” replied Inspector
Dickson. “This will blow up a chinook before night.”
“I wonder if he has got into shelter,” said the Superintendent. “This
has been an unusually hard fortnight, and I am afraid he went rather
light.”
“Oh, he's sure to be all right,” replied the Inspector quickly. “He was
riding, but he took his snowshoes with him for timber work. He's hardly
the man to get caught and he won't quit easily.”
“No, he won't quit, but there are times when human endurance fails. Not
that I fear anything like that for Cameron,” added the Superintendent
hastily.
“Oh, he's not the man to fall down,” replied the Inspector. “He goes the
limit, but he keeps his head. He's no reckless fool.”
“Well, you ought to know him,” said the Superintendent. “You have been
through some things together, but this last week has been about the
worst that I have known. This fortnight will be remembered in the annals
of this country. And it came so unexpectedly. What do you think about
it, Jerry?” continued the Superintendent, turning to the half-breed.
“He good man--cold ver' bad--ver' long. S'pose catch heem on
plains--ver' bad.”
The Inspector touched his horse to a canter. The vision that floated
before his mind's eye while the half-breed was speaking he hated to
contemplate.
“He's all right. He has come through too many tight places to fail
here,” said the Inspector in a tone almost of defiance, and refused to
talk further upon the subject. But he kept urging the pace till they
drew up at the stables of the Big Horn Ranch.
The Inspector's first glance upon opening the stable door swept the
stall where Ginger was wont to conduct his melancholy ruminations. It
gave him a start to see the stall empty.
“Hello, Smith!” he cried as that individual appeared with a bundle of
hay from the stack in the yard outside. “Boss home?”
“Has Mr. Cameron returned?” inquired the Superintendent in the same
breath, and in spite of himself a note of anxiety had crept into his
voice. The three men stood waiting, their tense attitude expressing the
anxiety they would not put into words. The deliberate Smith, who had
transferred his services from old Thatcher to Cameron and who had taken
the ranch and all persons and things belonging to it into his immediate
charge, disposed of his bundle in a stall, and then facing them said
slowly:
“Guess he's all right.”
“Is he home?” asked the Inspector sharply.
“Oh, he's home all right. Gone to bed, I think,” answered Smith with
maddening calmness.
The Inspector cursed him between his teeth and turned away from the
others till his eyes should be clear again.
“We will just look in on Mrs. Cameron for a few minutes,” said the
Superintendent. “We won't disturb him.”
Leaving Jerry to put up their horses, they went into the ranch-house and
found the ladies in a state of suppressed excitement. Mandy met them at
the door with an eager welcome, holding out to them trembling hands.
“Oh, I am so glad you have come!” she cried. “It was all I could do
to hold him back from going to you even as he was. He was quite set on
going and only lay down on promise that I should wake him in an hour.
Sit down here by the fire. An hour, mind you,” she continued, talking
rapidly and under obvious excitement, “and him so blind and exhausted
that--” She paused abruptly, unable to command her voice.
“He ought to sleep twelve hours straight,” said the Superintendent with
emphasis, “and twenty-four would be better, with suitable breaks for
refreshment,” he added in a lighter tone, glancing at Mandy's face.
“Yes, indeed,” she replied, “for he has had little enough to eat the
last three days. And that reminds me--” she hurried to the pantry and
returned with the teapot--“you must be cold, Superintendent. Ah, this
terrible cold! A hot cup of tea will be just the thing. It will take
only five minutes--and it is better than punch, though perhaps you men
do not think so.” She laughed somewhat wildly.
“Why, Mrs. Cameron,” said the Superintendent in a shocked, bantering
voice, “how can you imagine we should be guilty of such heresy--in this
prohibition country, too?”
“Oh, I know you men,” replied Mandy. “We keep some Scotch in the
house--beside the laudanum. Some people can't take tea, you know,” she
added with an uncertain smile, struggling to regain control of herself.
“But all the same, I am a nurse, and I know that after exposure tea is
better.”
“Ah, well,” replied the Superintendent, “I bow to your experience,”
making a brave attempt to meet her mood and declining to note her
unusual excitement.
In the specified five minutes the tea was ready.
“I could quite accept your tea-drinking theory, Mrs. Cameron,” said
Inspector Dickson, “if--if, mark you--I should always get such tea as
this. But I don't believe Jerry here would agree.”
Jerry, who had just entered, stood waiting explanation.
“Mrs. Cameron has just been upholding the virtue of a good cup of tea,
Jerry, over a hot Scotch after a cold ride. Now what's your unbiased
opinion?”
A slight grin wrinkled the cracks in Jerry's leather-skin face.
“Hot whisky--good for fun--for cold no good. Whisky good for sleep--for
long trail no good.”
“Thank you, Jerry,” cried Mandy enthusiastically.
“Oh, that's all right, Jerry,” said the Inspector, joining in the
general laugh that followed, “but I don't think Miss Moira here would
agree with you in regard to the merits of her national beverage.”
“Oh, I am not so sure,” cried the young lady, entering into the mood
of the others. “Of course, I am Scotch and naturally stand up for my
country and for its customs, but, to be strictly honest, I remember
hearing my brother say that Scotch was bad training for football.”
“Good again!” cried Mandy. “You see, when anything serious is on, the
wisest people cut out the Scotch, as the boys say.”
“You are quite right, Mrs. Cameron,” said the Superintendent, becoming
grave. “On the long trail and in the bitter cold we drop the Scotch and
bank on tea. As for whisky, the Lord knows it gives the Police enough
trouble in this country. If it were not for the whisky half our work
would be cut out. But tell me, how is Mr. Cameron?” he added, as he
handed back his cup for another supply of tea.
“Done up, or more nearly done up than ever I have seen him, or than I
ever want to see him again.” Mandy paused abruptly, handed him his
cup of tea, passed into the pantry and for some moments did not appear
again.
“Oh, it was terrible to see him,” said Moira, clasping her hands and
speaking in an eager, excited voice. “He came, poor boy, stumbling
toward the door. He had to leave his horse, you know, some miles away.
Through the window we saw him coming along--and we did not know him--he
staggered as if--as if--actually as if he were drunk.” Her laugh was
almost hysterical. “And he could not find the latch--and when we opened
the door his eyes were--oh!--so terrible!--wild--and bloodshot--and
blind! Oh, I cannot tell you about it!” she exclaimed, her voice
breaking and her tears falling fast. “And he could hardly speak to us.
We had to cut off his snow-shoes--and his gauntlets and his clothes
were like iron. He could not sit down--he just--just--lay on the
floor--till--my sister--” Here the girl's sobs interrupted her story.
“Great Heavens!” cried the Superintendent. “What a mercy he reached
home!”
The Inspector had risen and came round to Moira's side.
“Don't try to tell me any more,” he said in a husky voice, patting her
gently on the shoulder. “He is here with us, safe, poor chap. My God!”
he cried in an undertone, “what he must have gone through!”
At this point Mandy returned and took her place again quietly by the
fire.
“It was this sudden spell of cold that nearly killed him,” she said in a
quiet voice. “He was not fully prepared for it, and it caught him at
the end of his trip, too, when he was nearly played out. You see, he was
five weeks away and he had only expected to be three.”
“Yes, I know, Mrs. Cameron,” said the Inspector.
“An unexpected emergency seems to have arisen.”
“I don't know what it was,” replied Mandy. “He could tell me little, but
he was determined to go on to the fort.”
“I know something about his plans,” said the Inspector. “He had proposed
a tour of the reserves, beginning with the Piegans and ending with the
Bloods.”
“And we know something of his work, too, Mrs. Cameron,” said the
Superintendent. “Superintendent Strong has sent us a very fine report
indeed of your husband's work. We do not talk about these things,
you know, in the Police, but we can appreciate them all the same.
Superintendent Strong's letter is one you would like to keep. I shall
send it to you. Knowing Superintendent Strong as I do--”
“I know him too,” said Mandy with a little laugh.
“Well, then, you will be able to appreciate all the more any word of
commendation he would utter. He practically attributes the present state
of quiet and the apparent collapse of this conspiracy business to
your husband's efforts. This, of course, is no compensation for his
sufferings or yours, but I think it right that you should know the
facts.” The Superintendent had risen to his feet and had delivered his
little speech in his very finest manner.
“Thank you,” said Mandy simply.
“We had expected him back a week ago,” said the Inspector. “We know he
must have had some serious cause for delay.”
“I do not know about that,” replied Mandy, “but I do know he was most
anxious to go on to the fort. He had some information to give, he said,
which was of the first importance. And I am glad you are here. He will
be saved that trip, which would really be dangerous in his present
condition. And I don't believe I could have stopped him, but I should
have gone with him. His hour will soon be up.”
“Don't think of waking him,” said the Superintendent. “We can wait two
hours, or three hours, or more if necessary. Let him sleep.”
“He would waken himself if he were not so fearfully done up. He has a
trick of waking at any hour he sets,” said Mandy.
A few minutes later Cameron justified her remarks by appearing from
the inner room. The men, accustomed as they were to the ravages of
the winter trail upon their comrades, started to their feet in horror.
Blindly Cameron felt his way to them, shading his blood-shot eyes from
the light. His face was blistered and peeled as if he had come through a
fire, his lips swollen and distorted, his hands trembling and showing
on every finger the marks of frost bite, and his feet dragging as he
shuffled across the floor.
“My dear fellow, my dear fellow,” cried the Inspector, springing up to
meet him and grasping him by both arms to lead him to a chair. “You ran
it too close that time. Here is the Superintendent to lecture you. Sit
down, old man, sit down right here.” The Inspector deposited him in the
chair, and, striding hurriedly to the window, stood there looking out
upon the bleak winter snow.
“Hello, Cameron,” said the Superintendent, shaking him by the hand with
hearty cheerfulness. “Glad, awfully glad to see you. Fine bit of work,
very fine bit of work. Very complimentary report about you.”
“I don't know what you refer to, sir,” said Cameron, speaking thickly,
“but I am glad you are here, for I have an important communication to
make.”
“Oh, that's all right,” said the Superintendent. “Don't worry about
that. And take your own time. First of all, how are you feeling?
Snow-blind, I see,” he continued, critically examining him, “and
generally used up.”
“Rather knocked up,” replied Cameron, his tongue refusing to move with
its accustomed ease. “But shall be fit in a day or two. Beastly sleepy,
but cannot sleep somehow. Shall feel better when my mind is at rest. I
cannot report fully just now.”
“Oh, let the report rest. We know something already.”
“How is that?”
“Superintendent Strong has sent us in a report, and a very creditable
report, too.”
“Oh,” replied Cameron indifferently. “Well, the thing I want to say is
that though all looks quiet--there is less horse stealing this month,
and less moving about from the reserves--yet I believe a serious
outbreak is impending.”
The Inspector, who had come around and taken a seat beside him, touched
his knee at this point with an admonishing pressure.
“Eh?” said Cameron, turning toward him. “Oh, my people here know. You
need not have any fear about them.” A little smile distorted his face as
he laid his hand upon his wife's shoulder. “But--where was I? I cannot
get the hang of things.” He was as a man feeling his way through a maze.
“Oh, let it go,” said the Inspector. “Wait till you have had some
sleep.”
“No, I must--I must get this out. Well, anyway, the principal thing
is that Big Bear, Beardy, Poundmaker--though I am not sure about
Poundmaker--have runners on every reserve and they are arranging for
a big meeting in the spring, to which every tribe North and West is to
send representatives. That Frenchman--what's his name?--I'll forget my
own next--”
“Riel?” suggested the Inspector.
“Yes, Riel. That Frenchman is planning a big coup in the spring. You
know they presented him with a house the other day, ready furnished, at
Batoche, to keep him in the country. Oh, the half-breeds are very keen
on this. And what is worse, I believe a lot of whites are in with them
too. A chap named Jackson, and another named Scott, and Isbister and
some others. These names are spoken of on every one of our reserves.
I tell you, sir,” he said, turning his blind eyes toward the
Superintendent, “I consider it very serious indeed. And worst of all,
the biggest villain of the lot, Little Pine, Cree Chief you know, our
bitterest enemy--except Little Thunder, who fortunately is cleared out
of the country--you remember, sir, that chap Raven saw about that.”
The Superintendent nodded.
“Well--where was I?--Oh, yes, Little Pine, the biggest villain of them
all, is somewhere about here. I got word of him when I was at the
Blood Reserve on my way home some ten days ago. I heard he was with
the Blackfeet, but I found no sign of him there. But he is in the
neighborhood, and he is specially bound to see old Crowfoot. I
understand he is a particularly successful pleader, and unusually
cunning, and I am afraid of Crowfoot. I saw the old Chief. He was very
cordial and is apparently loyal enough as yet, but you know, sir, how
much that may mean. I think that is all,” said Cameron, putting his hand
up to his head. “I have a great deal more to tell you, but it will not
come back to me now. Little Pine must be attended to, and for a day or
two I am sorry I am hardly fit--awfully sorry.” His voice sank into a
kind of undertone.
“Sorry?” cried the Superintendent, deeply stirred at the sight of
his obvious collapse. “Sorry? Don't you use that word again. You have
nothing to be sorry for, but everything to be proud of. You have done a
great service to your country, and we will not forget it. In a few days
you will be fit and we shall show our gratitude by calling upon you to
do something more. Hello, who's that?” A horseman had ridden past the
window toward the stables. Moira ran to look out.
“Oh!” she cried, “it is that Mr. Raven. I would know his splendid horse
anywhere.”
“Raven!” said Cameron sharply and wide awake.
“Raven, by Jove!” muttered the Inspector.
“Raven! Well, I call that cool!” said the Superintendent, a hard look
upon his face.
But the laws of hospitality are nowhere so imperative as on the western
plains. Cameron rose from his chair muttering, “Must look after his
horse.”
“You sit down,” said Mandy firmly. “You are not going out.”
“Well, hardly,” said the Inspector. “Here, Jerry, go and show him where
to get things, and--” He hesitated.
“Bring him in,” cried Mandy heartily. The men stood silent, looking at
Cameron.
“Certainly, bring him in,” he said firmly, “a day like this,” he added,
as if in apology.
“Why, of course,” cried Mandy, looking from one to the other in
surprise. “Why not? He is a perfectly splendid man.”
“Oh, he is really splendid!” replied Moira, her cheeks burning and her
eyes flashing. “You remember,” she cried, addressing the Inspector, “how
he saved my life the day I arrived at this ranch.”
“Oh, yes,” replied the Inspector briefly, “I believe I did hear that.”
But there was little enthusiasm in his voice.
“Well, I think he is splendid,” repeated Moira. “Do not you think so?”
The Inspector had an awkward moment.
“Eh?--well--I can't say I know him very well.”
“And his horse! What a beauty it is!” continued the girl.
“Ah, yes, a most beautiful animal, quite remarkable horse, splendid
horse; in fact one of the finest, if not the very finest, in this whole
country. And that is saying a good deal, too, Miss Moira. You see, this
country breeds good horses.” And the Inspector went on to discourse in
full detail and with elaborate illustration upon the various breeds of
horses the country could produce, and to classify the wonderful black
stallion ridden by Raven, and all with such diligence and enthusiasm
that no other of the party had an opportunity to take part in the
conversation till Raven, in the convoy of Jerry, was seen approaching
the house. Then the Superintendent rose.
“Well, Mrs. Cameron, I fear we must take our departure. These are rather
crowded days with us.”
“What?” exclaimed Mandy. “Within an hour of dinner? We can hardly allow
that, you know. Besides, Mr. Cameron wants to have a great deal more
talk with you.”
The Superintendent attempted to set forth various other reasons for a
hasty departure, but they all seemed to lack sincerity, and after a few
more ineffective trials he surrendered and sat down again in silence.
The next moment the door opened and Raven, followed by Jerry, stepped
into the room. As his eye fell upon the Superintendent, instinctively he
dropped his hands to his hips and made an involuntary movement backward,
but only for an instant. Immediately he came forward and greeted Mandy
with fine, old-fashioned courtesy.
“So delighted to meet you again, Mrs. Cameron, and also to meet your
charming sister.” He shook hands with both the ladies very warmly.
“Ah, Superintendent,” he continued, “delighted to see you. And you,
Inspector,” he said, giving them a nod as he laid off his outer leather
riding coat. “Hope I see you flourishing,” he continued. His debonair
manner had in it a quizzical touch of humor. “Ah, Cameron, home again I
see. I came across your tracks the other day.”
The men, who had risen to their feet upon his entrance, stood regarding
him stiffly and made no other sign of recognition than a curt nod and a
single word of greeting.
“You have had quite a trip,” he continued, addressing himself to
Cameron, and taking the chair offered by Mandy. “I followed you part
way, but you travel too fast for me. Much too strenuous work I found
it. Why,” he continued, looking narrowly at Cameron, “you are badly
punished. When did you get in?”
“Two hours ago, Mr. Raven,” said Mandy quickly, for her husband sat
gazing stupidly into the fire. “And he is quite done up.”
“Two hours ago?” exclaimed Raven in utter surprise. “Do you mean to say
that you have been traveling these last three days?”
Cameron nodded.
“Why, my dear sir, not even the Indians face such cold. Only the Mounted
Police venture out in weather like this--and those who want to get away
from them. Ha! ha! Eh? Inspector? Ha! ha!” His gay, careless laugh rang
out in the most cheery fashion. But only the ladies joined. The men
stood grimly silent.
Mandy could not understand their grim and gloomy silence. By her
cordiality she sought to cover up and atone for the studied and almost
insulting indifference of her husband and her other guests. In these
attempts she was loyally supported by her sister-in-law, whose anger was
roused by the all too obvious efforts on the part of her brother and
his friends to ignore this stranger, if not to treat him with contempt.
There was nothing in Raven's manner to indicate that he observed
anything amiss in the bearing of the male members of the company about
the fire. He met the attempt of the ladies at conversation with a
brilliancy of effort that quite captivated them, and, in spite of
themselves, drew the Superintendent and the Inspector into the flow of
talk.
As the hour of the midday meal approached Mandy rose from her place by
the fire and said:
“You will stay with us to dinner, Mr. Raven? We dine at midday. It is
not often we have such a distinguished and interesting company.”
“Thank you, no,” said Raven. “I merely looked in to give your husband
a bit of interesting information. And, by the way, I have a bit of
information that might interest the Superintendent as well.”
“Well,” said Mandy, “we are to have the pleasure of the Superintendent
and the Inspector to dinner with us to-day, and you can give them all
the information you think necessary while you are waiting.”
Raven hesitated while he glanced at the faces of the men beside him.
What he read there drew from him a little hard smile of amused contempt.
“Please do not ask me again, Mrs. Cameron,” he said. “You know not how
you strain my powers of resistance when I really dare not--may not,” he
corrected himself with a quick glance at the Superintendent, “stay in
this most interesting company and enjoy your most grateful hospitality
any longer. And now my information is soon given. First of all for you,
Cameron--I shall not apologize to you, Mrs. Cameron, for delivering
it in your presence. I do you the honor to believe that you ought to
know--briefly my information is this. Little Pine, in whose movements
you are all interested, I understand, is at this present moment lodging
with the Sarcee Indians, and next week will move on to visit old
Crowfoot. The Sarcee visit amounts to little, but the visit to old
Crowfoot--well, I need say no more to you, Cameron. Probably you know
more about the inside workings of old Crowfoot's mind than I do.”
“Visiting Crowfoot?” exclaimed Cameron. “Then I was there too soon.”
“That is his present intention, and I have no doubt the program will
be carried out,” said Raven. “My information is from the inside. Of
course,” he continued, “I know you have run across the trail of the
North Cree and Salteaux runners from Big Bear and Beardy. They are
not to be despised. But Little Pine is a different person from these
gentlemen. The big game is scheduled for the early spring, will probably
come off in about six weeks. And now,” he said, rising from his chair,
“I must be off.”
At this point Smith came in and quietly took a seat beside Jerry near
the door.
“And what's your information for me, Mr. Raven?” inquired the
Superintendent. “You are not going to deprive me of my bit of news?”
“Ah, yes--news,” replied Raven, sitting down again. “Briefly this.
Little Thunder has yielded to some powerful pressure and has again
found it necessary to visit this country, I need hardly add, against my
desire.”
“Little Thunder?” exclaimed the Superintendent, and his tone indicated
something more than surprise. “Then there will be something doing.
And where does this--ah--this--ah--friend of yours propose to locate
himself?”
“This friend of mine,” replied Raven, with a hard gleam in his eye and
a bitter smile curling his lips, “who would gladly adorn his person with
my scalp if he might, will not ask my opinion as to his location, and
probably not yours either, Mr. Superintendent.” As Raven ceased speaking
he once more rose from his chair, put on his leather riding coat and
took up his cap and gauntlets. “Farewell, Mrs. Cameron,” he said,
offering her his hand. “Believe me, it has been a rare treat to see you
and to sit by your fireside for one brief half-hour.”
“Oh, but Mr. Raven, you are not to think of leaving us before dinner.
Why this haste?”
“The trail I take,” said Raven in a grave voice, “is full of pitfalls
and I must take it when I can. The Superintendent knows,” he added.
But his smile awoke no response in the Superintendent, who sat rigidly
silent.
“It's a mighty cold day outside,” interjected Smith, “and blowing up
something I think.”
“Oh, hang it, Raven!” blurted out Cameron, who sat stupidly gazing into
the fire, “Stay and eat. This is no kind of day to go out hungry. It is
too beastly cold.”
“Thanks, Cameron, it IS a cold day, too cold to stay.”
“Do stay, Mr. Raven,” pleaded Moira.
He turned swiftly and looked into her soft brown eyes now filled with
warm kindly light.
“Alas, Miss Cameron,” he replied in a low voice, turning his back upon
the others, his voice and his attitude seeming to isolate the girl from
the rest of the company, “believe me, if I do not stay it is not because
I do not want to, but because I cannot.”
“You cannot?” echoed Moira in an equally low tone.
“I cannot,” he replied. Then, raising his voice, “Ask the
Superintendent. He knows that I cannot.”
“Do you know?” said Moira, turning upon the Superintendent, “What does
he mean?”
The Superintendent rose angrily.
“Mr. Raven chooses to be mysterious,” he said. “If he cannot remain here
he knows why without appealing to me.”
“Ah, my dear Superintendent, how unfeeling! You hardly do yourself
justice,” said Raven, proceeding to draw on his gloves. His drawling
voice seemed to irritate the Superintendent beyond control.
“Justice?” he exclaimed sharply. “Justice is a word you should hesitate
to use.”
“You see, Miss Cameron,” said Raven with an injured air, “why I cannot
remain.”
“No, I do not!” cried Moira in hot indignation. “I do not see,” she
repeated, “and if the Superintendent does I think he should explain.”
Her voice rang out sharp and clear. It wakened her brother as if from a
daze.
“Tut, tut, Moira!” he exclaimed. “Do not interfere where you do not
understand.”
“Then why make insinuations that cannot be explained?” cried his sister,
standing up very straight and looking the Superintendent fair in the
face.
“Explained?” echoed the Superintendent in a cool, almost contemptuous,
voice. “There are certain things best not explained, but believe me if
Mr. Raven desires explanation he can have it.”
The men were all on their feet. Quickly Moira turned to Raven with a
gesture of appeal and a look of loyal confidence in her eyes. For a
moment the hard, cynical face was illumined with a smile of rare beauty,
but only for a moment. The gleam passed and the old, hard, cynical face
turned in challenge to the Superintendent.
“Explain!” he said bitterly, defiantly. “Go on if you can.”
The Superintendent stood silent.
“Ah!” breathed Moira, a thrill of triumphant relief in her voice, “he
cannot explain.”
With dramatic swiftness the explanation came. It was from Jerry.
“H'explain?” cried the little half-breed, quivering with rage.
“H'explain? What for he can no h'explain? Dem horse he steal de
night-tam'--dat whiskee he trade on de Indian. Bah! He no good--he one
beeg tief. Me--I put him one sure place he no steal no more!”
A few moments of tense silence held the group rigid. In the center stood
Raven, his face pale, hard, but smiling, before him Moira, waiting,
eager, with lips parted and eyes aglow with successive passions,
indignation, doubt, fear, horror, grief. Again that swift and subtle
change touched Raven's face as his eyes rested upon the face of the girl
before him.
“Now you know why I cannot stay,” he said gently, almost sadly.
“It is not true,” murmured Moira, piteous appeal in voice and eyes. A
spasm crossed the pale face upon which her eyes rested, then the old
cynical look returned.
“Once more, thank you, Mrs. Cameron,” he said with a bow to Mandy, “for
a happy half-hour by your fireside, and farewell.”
“Good-by,” said Mandy sadly.
He turned to Moira.
“Oh, good-by, good-by,” cried the girl impulsively, reaching out her
hand.
“Good-by,” he said simply. “I shall not forget that you were kind to
me.” He bent low before her, but did not touch her outstretched hand. As
he turned toward the door Jerry slipped in before him.
“You let him go?” he cried excitedly, looking at the Superintendent; but
before the latter could answer a hand caught him by the coat collar
and with a swift jerk landed him on the floor. It was Smith, his face
furiously red. Before Jerry could recover himself Raven had opened the
door and passed out.
“Oh, how awful!” said Mandy in a hushed, broken voice.
Moira stood for a moment as if dazed, then suddenly turned to Smith and
said:
“Thank you. That was well done.”
And Smith, red to his hair roots, murmured, “You wanted him to go?”
“Yes,” said Moira, “I wanted him to go.”