LESLIE STEPS OUT
Henry Leslie did not return home at noon on the day following the
altercation with his wife. Millicent had an ugly temper, but she would
cool down if he gave her time, he said to himself. In the evening he
fell in with two business acquaintances from a mining district, who
were visiting the city for the purpose of finding diversion and they
invited him to assist them in their search for amusement. Leslie,
though unprincipled, lacked several qualities necessary for a
successful rascal, and, oppressed by the fear of Shackleby's
displeasure should Thurston return to the mountains prematurely, and
uncertain what to do, was willing to try to forget his perplexities for
an hour or two.
The attempt was so far successful that he went home at midnight,
somewhat unsteadily, a good many dollars poorer than when he set out.
Trying the door of his wife's room, he found it locked. He did not
suspect that it had been locked on the outside and that Millicent had
thrown the key away. He was, however, rather relieved than otherwise
by the discovery of the locked door, and, sleeping soundly, wakened
later than usual next morning. Millicent, however, was neither at the
breakfast-table nor in her own room when he pried the door open. He
saw that some garments and a valise were missing, and decided that she
had favored certain friends with her company, and, returning mollified,
would make peace again, as had happened before. Still, he was uneasy
until he espied her writing-case with the end of a letter protruding.
Reading the letter, he discovered it to be an invitation to Victoria.
He noticed on the blotter the reversed impression of an addressed
envelope, which showed that she had answered the invitation. Two days
passed, and, hearing nothing, he grew dissatisfied again, and drafted a
diplomatic telegram to the friends in Victoria. It happened that
Shackleby was in his office when the answer arrived.
"Has Thurston come into town yet? You told me you saw your way to keep
him here," said Shackleby. "Didn't you mention he had the handling of
a small legacy left Mrs. Leslie?"
"It is strange, but he has not arrived," was the answer. "My wife is
an old friend of his, and I had counted on her help in detaining him,
but, unfortunately, she considered it necessary to accept an invitation
to Victoria somewhat suddenly."
"I should hardly have fancied Thurston was an old friend of--yours,"
Shackleby remarked with a carelessness which almost blunted the sneer.
"I'm also a little surprised at what you tell me, because I saw Mrs.
Leslie hurrying along to the Atlantic express. She couldn't book that
way to Victoria."
"You must have been mistaken," said Leslie, who turned towards a clerk
holding out a telegraphic envelope. He ripped it open and read the
enclosure with a smothered ejaculation.
"Can't understand your wire. Mrs. Leslie not here. Wrote saying she
could not come."
"Excuse the liberty. I believe I have a right to inspect all
correspondence," observed Shackleby, coolly leaning over and picking up
the message. Then he looked straight at Leslie, and there was a
moment's silence before he asked, "How much does Mrs. Leslie know about
your business?"
"I don't know," answered the anxious man in desperation. "I had to
tell her a little so that she could help me."
"So I guessed!" commented Shackleby. "Now, I don't want to hurt your
feelings, but you can't afford to quarrel with me if I do. You're
coming straight with me to the depot to find out where Mrs. Leslie
bought a ticket to."
"I'll see you hanged first," broke out Leslie. "Isn't it enough that
you presume to read my private correspondence? I'll suffer no
interference with my domestic affairs."
Shackleby laughed contemptuously. "You'll just come along instead of
blustering--there's not an ounce of real grit in you. This is no time
for sentiment, and you have admitted that Mrs. Leslie was on good terms
with Thurston. If she has warned him, one of us at least will have to
make a record break out of this country. If he doesn't it won't be the
divorce court he'll figure in."
Leslie went without further protest, and Shackleby looked at him
significantly when the booking-clerk said, "If I remember right, Mrs.
Leslie bought a ticket for Thompson's. It's a flag station at the head
of the new road that's to be driven into the Orchard Valley."
"I guess that's enough," remarked Shackleby. "You and I are going
there by the first train too. Oh, yes, I'm coming with you whether you
like it or not, for it strikes me our one chance is to bluff Thurston
into a bargain for the cessation of hostilities. It's lucky he's
supposed to be uncommonly short of money."
Geoffrey Thurston, Mrs. Leslie, and Thomas Savine of course, could not
know of this conversation, but the woman was anxious as they rode
together into sight of the little flag station shortly before the
Atlantic express was due. When the others dismounted, Thomas Savine,
who had been summoned by telegram from Vancouver, remained discreetly
behind. It was very cold, darkness was closing down on the deep hollow
among the hills, and some little distance up the ascending line, a huge
freight locomotive was waiting with a string of cars behind it in a
side track. Thurston pointed to the fan-shaped blaze of the great head
lamp.
"We have timed it well. They're expecting your train now," he said.
"I am glad," was Millicent's answer. "I shall feel easier when I am
once upon the way, for all day I have been nervously afraid that Harry
might arrive or something unexpected might happen to detain me. There
will be only time to catch the Allan boat, you say, and once the train
leaves this station nobody could overtake me?"
"Of course not!" answered Geoffrey, reassuringly. "It is perhaps
natural that you should be apprehensive, but there is no reason for it.
Whether you are doing right or wrong I dare not presume to judge, and,
under the circumstances, I wish there had been somebody else to counsel
you; but if your husband has treated you cruelly and you are in fear of
him, I cannot venture to dissuade you. You will write to me when you
have settled your plans?"
"Yes," she promised. After a moment's pause, she went on: "I have
hardly been able to consider the position yet, but I will never go back
to Harry. My trustees must either help me to fight him or bribe him
not to molest me. It is a hateful position, but though I have suffered
a great deal there are things I cannot countenance."
The hoot of a whistle came ringing up the valley, the light of another
head lamp, growing brighter, flickered among the firs, and Millicent
looked up at her companion as she said:
"I may never see you again, Geoffrey, but I cannot go without asking
you to forgive me. You do not know, and I dare not tell you, in how
many ways I have injured you. I would like to think that you do not
cherish any ill-will against me."
"You may be quite sure of it," was the answer, and Geoffrey smiled upon
her. "What I shall remember most clearly is how much you risked to
warn me, and that the safe completion of the work I have set my heart
on is due to you. We will forget all the unpleasant things that have
happened in the past and meet as good friends next time, Millicent."
The woman's voice trembled a little as she replied: "I hope when one by
one you hear of the unpleasant things you will be charitable. But a
last favor--you will not tell Harry where I have gone until I am safely
on my way to England?"
"No," promised Geoffrey. "You can depend upon that. I have not
forgiven your husband, but the train is coming in and it will only stop
a few seconds."
With couplings clashing the long cars lurched in. Geoffrey hurried
Millicent into one of them. He felt his hand grasped fervently, and
fancied he saw a tear glisten in Millicent's eyes by the light of the
flashing lamps. Then the great engine snorted, and he sprang down from
the vestibule footboard as the train rolled out. Turning back towards
the station to join Thomas Savine, he found himself confronted by two
men who had just alighted.
Their surprise was mutual, but Thomas Savine, who stood beside a box
just hurled out of the baggage car, had his wits about him. "Here's
one case, Geoffrey. The conductor thinks that some fool must have
labelled the others wrong, and they'll come on by first freight," he
said.
This was an accurate statement, and for Millicent's sake Geoffrey was
grateful that his comrade should make it so opportunely. It accounted
for his presence at the station.
"It can't be helped," he said, and then turned stiffly towards
Shackleby and Henry Leslie, who waited between him and the roadway.
"We want a few words with you, but didn't expect to find you here,"
abruptly remarked Shackleby. "Is there any place fit to sit in at the
saloon yonder?"
"I really don't know," Geoffrey replied. "Having no time to waste in
conversation, neither do I care. If you have anything to say to me you
can say it--very briefly--here."
Shackleby pinched the cigar he was smoking. Laying his hand on
Leslie's shoulder warningly, he whispered, "Keep still, you fool."
"I don't know that I can condense what I have to say," he answered
airily, addressing Thurston. "Fact is, in the first place, and before
Mr. Leslie asks a question, I want to know whether we--that is I--can
still come to terms with you. It's tolerably well-known that my
colleagues are, so to speak, men of straw, and individually I figure it
might be better for both of us if we patched up a compromise. I can't
sketch out the rest of my programme in the open air, but, as a general
idea, what do you think, Mr. Savine?"
"That your suggestion comes rather late in the day," was the answer.
Shackleby was silent for a moment, though, for it was quite dark now
that the train had gone. Savine could not be quite certain whether he
moved against Leslie by accident or deliberately hustled him a few
paces away. Geoffrey, however, felt certain that neither had seen
Millicent, nor, thanks to Savine, suspected that she was on board the
departing cars. Just then a deep-toned whistle vibrated across the
pines, somebody waved a lantern between the rails, and the panting of
the freight locomotive's pump became silent. The track led down grade
past the station towards the coast.
"Better late than never," said Shackleby. "My hand's a good one still.
I'm not sure I won't call you."
"To save time I'll show you mine a little sooner than I meant to do,
and you'll see the game's up," replied Geoffrey, grimly. "It may
prevent you from worrying me during the next week or two, and you can't
well profit by it. I've got Black, who is quite ready to go into court
at any time, where you can't get at him. I've got the nearest
magistrate's warrant executed on the person of your other rascal, and
Black will testify as to his record, which implies the throwing of a
sidelight upon your own. No doubt, to save himself, the other man will
turn against you. In addition, if it's necessary, which I hardly think
possible, I have even more damaging testimony. I have sworn a
statement before the said magistrate for the Crown-lands authorities,
and purpose sending a copy to each of your directors individually.
That ought to be sufficient, and I have no more time to waste with you."
"But you have me to settle with, or I'll blast your name throughout the
province if I drag my own in the mud. Where's my wife?" snarled
Leslie, wrenching himself free from his confederate's restraining grasp.
"If you're bent on making a fool of yourself, and I guess you can't
help it, go on your own way," interposed Shackleby, with ironical
contempt.
"I have no intention of telling you where Mrs. Leslie is," asserted
Geoffrey. "You will hear from her when she considers it advisable to
write."
A whir of driver wheels slipping on the rails came down the track,
followed by a shock of couplings tightening and the snorting of a heavy
locomotive, but none of the party noticed it.
"She was here; you can't deny it," shouted Leslie, who had yielded to a
fit of rabid fury. He was not a courageous man, and had been held in
check by fear of Shackleby, but there was some spirit in him, and,
perhaps because he had injured Thurston, had always hated him. Now
when his case seemed desperate, with the boldness of a rat driven into
a corner, he determined to tear the hand that crushed him.
"I'll take action against you. I'll blazon it in the press. I'll
close every decent house in the province against you," he continued,
working himself up into a frenzy. "Where have you hidden my wife? By
Heaven, I'll make you tell me."
"Take care!" warned Geoffrey, straightening himself and thrusting one
big hand behind his back. "It is desperately hard for me to keep my
fingers off you now, but if you say another word against Mrs. Leslie,
look to yourself. Shackleby, you have heard him; now for the woman's
sake listen to me. I have never wronged your wife by thought or word,
Leslie, and the greatest indiscretion she was ever guilty of was
marrying you."
"You have hidden her!" almost screamed the desperate man. "I'll have
satisfaction one way if you're too strong for me another. Liar,
traitor, sed----"
Geoffrey strode forward before the last word was completed, Leslie
flung up one hand, but Shackleby struck it aside in time, and something
that fell from it clinked with a metallic sound. Exactly how what
followed really happened was never quite certain. Leslie, blind with
rage, either tripped over his confederate's outstretched foot, or lost
his balance, for just as a blaze of light beat upon the group, he
staggered, clutched at Thurston, and missing him, stepped over the edge
of the platform and fell full length between the rails.
There was a yell from a man with a lantern and a sudden hoot from the
whistle of the big locomotive. Savine's face turned white under the
glare of the headlight. With a reckless leap Geoffrey followed his
enemy. Only conscious of the man's peril, he acted upon impulse
without reflection.
"Good God! They'll both be killed!" exclaimed Shackleby.
Thurston was strong of limb and every muscle in him had been toughened
by strenuous toil, but Leslie had struck his head on the rails and lay
still, stunned and helpless. The lift was heavy for the man who strove
to raise him, and though the brakes screamed along the line of cars the
locomotive was almost upon them. Standing horrified, and, without
power to move, the two spectators saw Geoffrey still gripping his
enemy's shoulders, heave himself erect in a supreme effort, then the
cow-catcher on the engine's front struck them both, and Savine felt,
rather than heard, a sickening sound as the huge machine swept
resistlessly on. Afterward he declared that the suspense which
followed while the long box-cars rolled by was horrible, for nothing
could be seen, and the two men shivered with the uncertainty as to what
might be happening beneath the grinding wheels.
When the last car passed both leapt down upon the track, and a man
joined them holding a lantern aloft. Savine stooped over Thurston, who
lay just clear of the rails, looking strangely limp.
"Another second would have done it--did I heave him clear?" he gasped.
He tried to raise himself by one hand but fell back with a groan.
"I guess not," answered a railroad employe, holding the lantern higher,
and while two others ran up the tracks, the light fell upon a
shapeless, huddled heap. "That one has passed his checks in, certain,"
the holder of the lantern announced.
Within ten minutes willing assistants from the tiny settlement were on
the spot and stretchers were improvised. Savine had bidden the agent
telegraph for a doctor, and the two victims were slowly carried towards
the New Eldorado saloon. When they were gently laid down an elderly
miner, familiar with accidents, pointing to Thurston after making a
hasty examination said:
"This one has got his arm broken, collar-bone gone, too, but if there's
nothing busted inside he'll come round. The other one has been stone
dead since the engine hit him."
There were further proffers of help from several of his comrades, who,
as usual with their kind, possessed some knowledge of rude surgery.
When all that was possible had been done for the living, Savine was
drawn aside by Shackleby.
"This is what he dropped on the platform--I picked it up quietly," he
said, holding out an ivory-handled revolver. "No use letting any ugly
tales get round or raking up that other story, is it? I don't know
whether Thurston induced Leslie's wife to run off or not--from what I
have heard of him I hardly think he did--but one may as well let things
simmer down gracefully."
"I am grateful for your thoughtfulness," replied Savine. "Probably it
is more than he would have done for you. This is hardly the time to
discuss such questions, but what has happened can't affect our
position. Still, personally, I may not feel inclined to push merely
vindictive measures against you."
"I didn't think it would change matters," said Shackleby, with a shrug.
"If I should be wanted I'm open to describe the--accident--and let
other details slide. The railroad fellows suspect nothing. Thurston
has made your side a strong one, and in a way I don't blame him. If he
had stood in with me, we'd have smashed up your brother completely."