A SECRET TRIBUNAL
Some little time had elapsed since my acquittal, when, one pleasant
summer morning, I rode out from the railroad settlement bound for
Bonaventure. The air was soft and balmy, the sunshine brilliant, and the
prairie sod, which, by that time, had in most years grown parched and
dry, formed a springy green carpet beneath the horse's feet. There had
but once before been such a season within my memory, and my spirits were
almost as buoyant as the wallet in my pocket was heavy. The lean years
had passed and left us, perhaps a little more grave in face and quiet in
speech, to look forward to a brightening future, while the receipts I
had brought back from the nearest town meant freedom at least.
I was also unwearied in body, for the roll of paper money in the wallet
had made a vast difference to me, and instead of riding all night after
a long railroad journey, I had slept and breakfasted well at the wooden
hotel. Indeed, I almost wondered whether I were the same man who had
previously ridden that way in a state of sullen desperation, spurred on
by hatred and dogged obstinacy instead of hope. Now I was, however,
rather thankful than jubilant, for my satisfaction was tempered by a
perhaps unusual humility. Steel, Thorn, and I had, in our own blundering
fashion, made the best fight we could, but it was the generosity of
others and the winds of heaven which had brought us the victory.
Distance counts for little in these days, when the steel track and the
modern cargo steamer together girdle the face of the globe; and the loss
of others had been our gain. There had been scarcity in Argentina, and
Australian grass was shriveling for want of rain. Famine had smitten
India, and the great cattle-barons beyond our frontier had been
overbusily engaged, attempting the extermination of the smaller
settlers, to attend their legitimate business; so buyers in Europe were
looking to Canada for wheat and cattle. Our own beasts had flourished,
and before the usual season we had driven every salable head in to the
railroad, riding in force behind them. That drive and the events which
followed it were worth remembering.
I sold the cattle in Winnipeg for excellent prices, and deducting my own
share of the proceeds, took the first train westward to visit Lane, and
paid him down three-fourths of the balance of the loan. Having bought
wisdom dearly, I took a lawyer with me. Lane showed neither surprise nor
chagrin, though he must have felt both, and I could almost admire the
way he bore defeat. He was less a man than a money-making machine, and
the more to be dreaded for his absence of passion. Rage was apparently
as unknown to him as pity, and, though he knew he had lost Crane Valley,
and with it the completion of a well-laid scheme, he actually pushed a
cigar-box towards me as he signed the receipt. I drew a deep breath of
relief as I passed the papers to the lawyer, for the harvest would more
than cover what remained of the debt, and then I laid down certain sums
on behalf of others. Lane smiled almost affably as he tossed the
quittances upon the table.
"They're all in order, Rancher. A capable man don't need to use
second-rate trickery, and I'm open to allow that the bull-frog was hard
to squash," he said.
I pocketed the documents and went out in silence. Speech would have been
useless, because the man had no sensibilities that could be wounded; but
the interview struck me as a grotesquely commonplace termination of a
struggle which had cost me months of misery. Indeed, I found it hard to
convince myself that what had happened was real, and the heavy burden
flung off at last. Being by no means a mere passionless money-making
machine, I had, nevertheless, not finished with Lane.
It was evening the next day when I reached Bonaventure, and was shown
into the presence of its owner, who had lately returned there from the
East. He looked haggard, and did not rise out of the chair he lounged
in, though his voice was cordial. "You have been successful, Ormesby. I
can see it by your face," he said.
"I have, sir," I answered. "More so than I dared to hope, and I fancy
you will be astonished when you count these bills. The Bonaventure draft
played a leading part in my release, and now I find it difficult to
realize that the luck has changed at last."
It was not quite dark outside, but the curtains were drawn, and Haldane
sat beside a table littered with papers under a silver reading-lamp. His
face looked curiously ascetic and thin, but the smile in his keen eyes
was genial. Boone sat opposite him smoking, and nodded good-humoredly to
me.
"You will soon get used to prosperity, and there is no occasion for
gratitude," Haldane said, tossing the roll of paper money across the
table, but taking up the account I laid beside it. "I notice that you
have earned me a profit of twenty per cent. You have tolerable business
talents in your own direction, Ormesby, and I shall expect your good
counsel in the practical management of Bonaventure which I have
undertaken."
"The management of Bonaventure?" I said, and Haldane's forehead grew
wrinkled as he nodded.
"Exactly. The verdict has been given. No more exciting corners or
supposititious heaping up of unearned increments for me. I am sentenced
by the specialists to a dormant life and open-air exercise, and have
accordingly chosen the rearing of cattle on the salubrious prairie."
I guessed what that sentence meant to a man of his energies; but he had
accepted it gracefully, and I was almost startled when he said: "Do you
know that I envied you, Ormesby, even when things looked worst for you?"
I could only murmur a few not overappropriate words of sympathy, though
I fancied that had Haldane been under the same grip he might have envied
me less.
"It takes time to grow used to idleness, which is why I sent for you
to-night," he said, with a swift resumption of his usual tone. "I
purpose to teach Lane that he is not altogether so omnipotent as he
believes himself--partly by way of amusement and to forward certain
views of my own, and partly because my younger daughter insists that he
is a menace to every honest man on the prairie. Boone appears inclined
to agree with her."
"I might even go a little further, sir," said Boone.
Haldane ignored the comment, and pointed to the papers, of which there
appeared to be a bushel. "I have been posting myself in my new
profession, and conclude that the prospects for grain and live stock are
encouraging," he said. "News from Chile, California, and the Austral,
all confirm this view; and, remembering it, we will consider Lane's
position. Boone has taken considerable pains to discover that, as I
expected, his resources are far from inexhaustible, and circumstances
point to the fact that he has set his teeth in too big a morsel. At
present neither the speculative public nor would-be emigrants have
grasped the position, and therefore Lane would get little if he realized
on his stolen lands just now."
"That is plain; but what results from it?" I said.
"Prosperity to poor men, according to my daughter;" and Haldane's smile
was not wholly cynical. "We purpose that he should realize as soon as
possible. Boone discovered that he is raising money to carry on by
quietly selling out his stock in the Investment Company which has
consistently backed him, and I feel inclined for a speculation in that
direction, especially as the public will shortly be invited to increase
the company's capital. Lastly, I am in possession of accurate
information, while Lane is not. Contrary to general opinion, the
railroad will be hurried through very shortly."
It was great news, and the possible downfall of my enemy perhaps the
least of it. It implied swift prosperity for all that district, and
while I stared at the speaker the blood surged to my forehead. Though
fate had robbed me of the best, part of what I had toiled, and fought,
and suffered for was to come about at last; and the calmness of the
others appeared unnatural. Haldane's eyes were keen, but he showed no
sign of unusual interest; Boone's face was merely grim, and I guessed
that the man whose heel had been on my neck would fare ill between them.
"If he had used legitimate weapons one could almost be sorry for him," I
said. "It will try even his nerve to lose all he has plotted for when
the prize is actually, if he knew it, within his grasp."
"He deserves no mercy," Boone broke in. "This is justice, Ormesby,
neither more nor less; and unless we cripple him once for all he will
take hold again with the first bad season. What you will shortly hear
should demonstrate the necessity for decisive measures; but our host
forgot to mention that he declines to profit individually by this
opportunity."
"If anyone wishes to learn my virtues he can apply to certain company
promoters in Montreal," said Haldane languidly. "Boone will remember
that I came here to farm for my health, and have been coerced into
assisting at this Vehmgericht. Those wheels, however, give warning that
the first sitting will commence."
A minute or two later I started wrathfully to my feet as Niven was
ushered into the room. He on his part seemed equally astonished, and, I
think, would have backed out again, but that Boone adroitly slammed the
door behind him. It may be mentioned that he had been tried in my place,
and, to the disgust of Sergeant Mackay, just escaped conviction.
"I need not introduce Mr. Ormesby, who will kindly resume his place,"
said Haldane pleasantly. "Sit down and choose a cigar if you feel like
it. You sent word you wanted to talk to me?"
"I didn't want to talk to that man;" and Niven scowled at me, while
Haldane shrugged his shoulders.
"I can't turn him out, you see. Now hadn't you better explain what you
want with me?"
There was a languid contempt beneath the speaker's surface good-humor
which was not lost on the fidgeting man; but he lighted a cigar with an
air of bravado, and commenced:
"Thinking over things, I figured both you and Adams had your knife in
Lane;" and Haldane's mild surprise was excellently assumed. "Well, I've
got my own knife in him, too. It's this way. Lane put up the money for
me to buy out Ormesby, and made a mighty close bargain, thinking I
daren't kick. It would have been inconvenient, and I didn't mean to; but
when those blame police ran me in for a thing I never done, he just
turns his back, and wouldn't put up a dollar to defend me! 'I've no use
for blunderers of your kind,' says he."
"One could understand that it is necessary for him to make sure of his
subordinates' abilities," said Haldane reflectively; and Niven, who
stared hard at him, appeared to gulp down something before he proceeded.
"Well, he can't fool with me, and it comes to this. I'm recorded owner
of Gaspard's Trail; paid for it with my own check--Lane fixed that up.
Now, what I want to ask you is, how's Lane going to turn me out if I
hold on to the place? Strikes me he can't do it."
In spite of this assurance the speaker looked distinctly eager until
Haldane answered: "We need not discuss the moral aspect of the case,
because it apparently hasn't one, and you might not understand it if it
had. Speaking from a purely business point of view, I feel tolerably
certain that, in the circumstances, he would not take legal proceedings
against you, though I have no doubt he might arrange the affair in some
other way."
"Feel quite sure?" asked Niven. And Haldane answered: "I may say I do."
Niven's grin of triumph would have sickened any honest man, but I was
not sorry for his employer. "I guess I'll take my chances of the other
way, and I'm coming straight to business. Will you stand behind me? It's
not going to be a charity. There is money in Gaspard's Trail, and I'm
open to make a fair deal with the man who sees me through."
I saw Haldane's lips set tightly for a moment, and my hand itched for a
good hold of Niven's collar; but the master of Bonaventure next
regarded him with a quiet amusement which appeared disconcerting.
"I fancy your worthy master was correct when he described you as a
blunderer," he said. "It would be quite impossible for me to make a
bargain of that--or any other--kind with you. You might also have added
that he inspired you to more than the buying of Gaspard's Trail."
There was pluck in Niven, for he laughed offensively. "I got my verdict,
and if you won't deal I may as well be going. Anyhow, you've told me
what I most wanted to know."
He departed without further parley, and Haldane smiled at me. "It would
have been a pity to detain him, and Lane was wrong in choosing an
understudy he could not scare into submission. That rascal will hold on
to Gaspard's Trail, and the loss of it will further hamper his master."
Some little time passed, and Boone, who appeared impatient, said at
last: "She is late; but Gordon may have been too busy to drive her over
earlier, and she promised me faithfully that she would come."
Haldane said nothing, though he seemed dubious until there was another
sound of wheels, and I had a second surprise when a lady was ushered
into the room, for I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw that it
was Redmond's daughter. She had changed greatly from the girl who called
down vengeance on the oppressor when we brought her father home,
although the glitter in her eyes and the intentness of her face showed
the strain of emotional nature in her. Still, she was handsomely and
tastefully dressed, and carried herself with dignity.
"This is Mr. Haldane, Miss Redmond, and I am sure he will be grateful to
you for coming," said Boone, who I noticed appeared relieved when the
new arrival laid a packet on the table. "I may explain for Ormesby's
benefit that Miss Redmond, who is winning fame as a singer, has
something of importance to show him," he added.
The girl's hand was very cold when it touched my own, and her movements
nervous as she drew a book in tattered binding out of its wrappings.
"I hope Mrs. Gordon will spare you as long as possible, and that your
visit to the prairie will do you good," said Haldane, placing a chair
for her.
"Once I fancied I could never look at the prairie without a shudder, but
of late I have been longing for sunshine and air, and shall perhaps be
happier when this is over," said the girl. "It is a very hard thing I
have to do, and I must tell you the whole painful story."
"We can understand that it must be," said Haldane gently.
"When I left home for Winnipeg I joined a second-rate variety company. I
had inherited a gift for singing, and those who heard me were pleased
with the old Irish ballads my mother taught me. So there was soon no
fear of poverty, and I was trying to bury the past, when, the night I
first sang to a packed audience in Winnipeg, it was once more dragged up
before me. I came home from what the newspapers said was a triumph, and
because one critic had questioned a verse of an old song I looked for a
book of my mother's among the relics I had brought from the prairie. I
found--this--instead."
Ailin Redmond ceased with a little gasp. And glancing at the dilapidated
account book she touched, I wondered what power it could have had to
change her triumph into an agony.
"I sat all that night beside the stove trying to force myself to burn
the book, and yet afraid," she continued. "Perhaps we are superstitious;
but I felt that I dare not, and its secret has been a very burden ever
since. Sometimes I thought of the revenge it would give me, and yet I
could not take it without blackening my father's memory. So I kept
silence until my health commenced to fail under the strain, and meeting
Mr. Boone at Brandan, where I sang at the time Mr. Ormesby's trial
filled the papers, I felt I must tell him part of my discovery. Had the
trial not ended as it did he would have consulted with Lawyer Dixon.
Afterwards, though I hated Lane the more, I pledged Mr. Boone to
secrecy, and kept silent until, when I could bear the load no longer, I
told my trouble to Pere Louis. 'If you only desire vengeance it would be
better to burn the book; but if you can save innocent men from
persecution and prevent the triumph of the wicked, silence would be a
sin,' he said. Then I wrote to Mr. Boone and told him I would show the
papers to Mr. Ormesby."
I opened the battered volume handed me with a strong sense of
anticipation, and, as I did so, the girl shrank back shivering.
Redmond's writing was recognizable, and I thrilled alternately with pity
and indignation against another person as I read his testimony. Omitting
other details, the dated entries, arranged in debit and credit fashion,
told the whole story.
"Deep snow and stock very poor," the first I glanced at ran. "Received
from Ormesby three loads of hay. Sure 'tis a decent neighbor, for he
wouldn't take no pay. Entered so, if I ever have the luck, to send it
back to him.
"Plow-oxen sick; horse-team sore-backed; seven days' plowing done by
Ormesby, say--money at harvest, or to be returned in help stock driving.
"Fifty dollars loan from Ormesby; see entry overdue grocery bill."
"Is it necessary for me to read any more of these?" I asked.
"No. If you are satisfied that he at least recognized the debt, pass on
to the other marked pages," answered the writer's daughter.
I set my lips as I did so, for there was only one inference to be drawn
from the following entries, which ran dated in a series: "Demand for
fifteen hundred dollars from Lane. No credit, ten dollars in the house.
Lane came over, and part renewed the loan in return for services to be
rendered. Black curses on the pitiless devil! Took twenty head of prime
stock, to be driven to the hollow with Ormesby's. Started out with the
stock for Gaspard's Trail."
There were no further entries, and Miss Redmond, who had been watching
me, said, with a perceptible effort:
"You will remember all those dates well. Now read what is written on
the loose leaf. When I came in one night the book lay on the table with
that leaf projecting; but as my father was always fretting over the
accounts, I did not glance at it as I replaced the book."
The writing was blurred and scrawling--the work of an unstable man in a
moment of agony; and some of the half-coherent sentences ran: "It was
Lane and his master the devil who drove me. I did not mean to do what I
did; but when the fire came down, remembered he said 'any convenient
accident.' I knew it was murder when I saw Ormesby with the blood on his
face." Further lines were almost unintelligible, but I made out, "Judas.
No room on earth. Lane says he is dying fast. You will hate the man who
drove me for ever and ever."
I folded up the paper, and, not having read the whole of it, handed it
to the girl. "I am almost sorry you were brave enough to show me this;
but I can only try to forget it," I said.
Miss Redmond's eyes were dry; but she moved as if in physical pain, and
clenched one hand as she said: "That secret has worn me down for weary
months, and I dare not change my mind again. I shall never rest until it
is certain that wicked man shall drive no one else to destruction. You
must show Mr. Haldane all you have read."
Haldane laid down the book, and sat silent for at least a minute. "Will
you please tell us, Miss Redmond, how far you can allow us to make use
of this?" he said.
The girl shuddered before she answered: "It must not be made public; but
if in any other way you can strike Lane down, I will leave it you. You
can hardly guess what all this has cost me; but, God forgive me, the
hate I feel is stronger than shame--and his last words are burned into
my brain."
Ailin Redmond rose as she spoke, and I saw that part of Pere Louis's
admonition had fallen upon stony ground. Her face and pose were what
they had been when she had bidden us bring the dead man in. She came of
a passionate race; but there had also been a signal lack of balance in
her father's temperament, and perhaps it was this very strain of
wildness which had made her singing a success.
Haldane, with expressions of sympathy, led her to the door, and
returning, sat staring straight before him with a curious expression. "I
don't know that the stolid, emotionless person is not far the happiest,"
he said at last. "She must have suffered a good deal--poor soul; and,
even allowing that you had not seen those pitiful papers, I'm doubtful
if you acted quite wisely, Boone. However, the question now is: how are
we going to use them?"
"Nobody but ourselves must see them," I managed to answer, savage as I
was.
"I would make one exception," said the owner of Bonaventure. "That one
is the man responsible. It can be no enlightenment to him, and the fact
that he would not suspect us of any reluctance to make the most of our
power, strengthens our ability to deal with him."
Our conference ended shortly, and when we joined the others I saw that
Lucille Haldane had taken Redmond's daughter under her wing. How she had
managed it, of course I do not know; but the latter appeared comforted
already, and there was a gentle dimness instead of the former hard
glitter in her eyes. Then, and it was not for the first time, I felt
that I could have bowed down and worshiped the Mistress of Bonaventure.
It was evident that Boone had also been observant, for he afterwards
said, with unusual gravity: "Women resembling Miss Lucille Haldane are
the salt of this sorrowful world. There was only one I ever knew to
compare with her, and she, being too good for it, was translated to
what, if only because she was called there, must be a better."
I agreed with his first statement entirely, and took his word for the
rest; but made no answer. Boone did not appear to desire one, and again
a strange longing filled his eyes while the shadow crept into his face.
I remembered it was written that the heart knows its own bitterness.