TRUNK 409.
At three o'clock the next afternoon Christopher Burley and myself might
have been found in the factor's private office, waiting expectantly for
the door to open, and gazing meanwhile at the desk littered with papers
and maps, the shelves stacked with musty documents and old account
books. I had not been up long, having slept till past noon. It had been
daylight when I retired, and Captain Rudstone was then closeted with the
factor. I had seen neither of them since.
"Mr. Macdonald has evidently been detained," said the law clerk as he
looked at the huge silver watch he had carried through all his
adventures. "He told me to find you and bring you here, and promised to
join us almost immediately."
"He must have a great many things on his mind to-day," I replied. "But,
tell me, why did he request my presence?"
"It was my suggestion, Mr. Carew. You have always shown a keen interest
in the matter, and I thought you would like to see if this last straw to
which I am clinging amounts to anything."
"You are quite right," said I. "It was thoughtful of you to remember me,
and I am very anxious to know the result of your search."
This, I must confess, was a polite evasion of truth. I had much rather
have been with Flora, whom I had seen for only a few moments since the
previous evening.
"I am by no means sanguine of success," the law-clerk resumed. "There is
but a meagre chance. And yet I feel a sort of presentiment that--Ah,
here he comes now!"
As he spoke the door opened, and Macdonald entered the room. I saw at a
glance, and with some surprise, that he was in good spirits.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting for me," he began. "I had some urgent
matters to attend to. I turned in long after you, Carew, and slept but
two hours. Have you seen anything of Captain Rudstone?"
"No," Mr. Burley and I answered together.
"He is doubtless in bed yet, he needed rest," said the factor. "I had
his whole story from him this morning."
"He gave me an outline of it last night," said I. "It was a most
thrilling narrative."
"Yes, and one that I was heartily glad to hear," replied Macdonald.
"Even if Cuthbert Mackenzie had been killed otherwise than in a struggle
his death would have been a simple act of justice; for it seems that he
admitted and boasted of his part in the capture of Fort Royal. As for
the charge of murder, it is ridiculous!"
"Then you think the affair will blow over?" I cried.
"I am sure of it, under the circumstances," declared the factor. "I
understand that Lieutenant Boyd spoke plainly last night, intimating
that our people suspected the Northwest Company of complicity in the
attack on Fort Royal, and that they would hear from us shortly. So it is
unlikely that Ruthven or his superiors will take any steps to apprehend
Captain Rudstone. Indeed, since they can't tell what evidence we
have--or have not--they may be frightened into adopting a more peaceable
policy than heretofore."
"I hope so, with all my heart," said I.
"Time will tell," replied Macdonald. "We shall continue to prepare for
the worst at all events. It is possible that the rescue at Lagarde's
store may drive the half-breeds, or the more hot-headed of the Northwest
Company men to some desperate act."
With that the factor turned to Christopher Burley, who had been waiting
with visible signs of impatience for our conversation to terminate.
"Now, sir, I am ready to attend to your business," he said. "I can't
spare much time, for I have promised an interview to Captain Rudstone
this afternoon. I believed some personal matter--I have not the least
idea what--is connected with his visit to the fort."
"I trust I shall not detain you long," replied the law clerk. "I
sincerely regret that--"
"Oh, it's all right," interrupted Macdonald. "I am glad to be of service
to you. A few minutes will settle the question in one way or another."
He seated himself at his desk, glanced over a row of account books, that
were shelved within reach, and finally took down a small leather-bound
volume that looked to be on the point of falling to pieces.
"Ah, this is it!" he exclaimed. "I thought I could lay my hands on it
promptly."
Christopher Burley and I stood behind his chair looking over his
shoulders, as he turned the faded, musty-smelling leaves one by one. The
law clerk's cheeks were slightly flushed, and a rapt and expectant
expression was on his face.
"1780," muttered the factor--"'83--'85--'87--was that the year?"
"He left England in the year 1787," Christopher Burley replied eagerly,
"in the month of June. Try September to start with."
"It's rather too early," said Macdonald. "There are only five entries in
September," he added, as he glanced rapidly down two pages, "and a
smaller average for the remaining months of that year. Now we come to
1788. I have not found your man yet. Let me see--January, February,
March--they are unlikely months, and contain scarcely an entry."
The search was growing doubtful, and I felt sorry for Mr. Burley.
"We are not through yet," I said cheerfully.
"Perhaps, sir," suggested Macdonald, "Osmund Maiden took another name
when he came to Canada."
"No, no," the law clerk exclaimed sharply. "I hope not. He could have
had no reason for doing such a thing."
"It's not uncommon," the factor answered dryly. "Ah, here we are at
April! Half a page of entries at the least! Massingham, Clarke, Bent,
Duvallard--"
He paused with an exultant little cry, and Christopher Burley, bending
further over him, noted where his finger rested near the bottom of the
page.
"Osmund Maiden!" the law clerk shouted in a tone of wild excitement. "It
is he! it is he! There, you can read it! plainly! Success at last!"
"You are right, sir!" exclaimed Macdonald. "Here we are; 'April the
19th, 1788--Osmund Maiden, one trunk, marked 409.' Doubtless this is
your man."
It was a thrilling moment, and I felt a sudden and keen interest in the
discovery, which I had by no means expected. I stared at the faded
inscription on the brown page, written there nearly twenty-eight years
before. Then I looked at Christopher Burley. I had never seen him so
deeply stirred. He was rubbing his hands together, drawing quick, short
breaths, and examining the book with an expression of mingled triumph
and anxiety.
"But how is this?" he asked hoarsely. "Look: a line is drawn through
every name on the page except that of Osmund Maiden."
"His name is not erased," replied the factor, "because he never came
back--because the receipt for his trunk was never presented."
"Ah, I see!" muttered the law clerk. "He never came back. Twenty-eight
years in the wilderness! I fear he is dead."
"That is the most reasonable way to look at it, sir."
"And yet he may be still alive, Mr. Macdonald. Surely if he stopped at
Fort Garry he made some mention of his future plans."
The factor shook his head.
"The entries on this page are not in my handwriting," he replied. He
opened his desk, took out a small book and glanced at it. "At that time
I was absent from the fort," he added. "From the end of March to the
beginning of May, 1788, I was in Quebec."
"But are none of the old employees here now?"
"No; not one. There are a few who have served a long time, but not prior
to 1790."
"Failure at every point!" exclaimed Mr. Burley, with a gesture of
disappointment. "But I will not despair. This clew must lead to others.
I cannot return to England without proofs of Osmund Maiden's death."
"I do not know where you will get them," said Macdonald. "The man has
been missing for nearly thirty years."
"And you made constant inquiries for him in the north," I added.
"But he may not have remained in the wilderness," cried the law clerk.
"Perhaps he went south again by another road. It is even possible that
he claimed his trunk and that by mistake this name was not erased."
"We never did business here in that loose way," replied the factor a
little sharply. "Come, Mr. Burley, I will give you a final satisfaction.
It would be useless to search the file of receipts, for I am positive
that Osmund Maiden's is not there. But I will readily show you his
trunk--trunk 409. Will you please to follow me, gentlemen?"