Messrs. H. & E. Quinion
Broadstone
England.
It contained a statement of the confession he had that evening heard
given by Fellows, with an intimation of where he was now to be found in
case the firm felt any desire to possess that information.
After hinting at sources of further information, it concluded with an
urgent request that the writer's name, which was communicated in strict
confidence, as a proof of _bona fides_, should be kept a profound
secret.
How to get this letter posted without its destination becoming a topic
for conversation, was the difficulty which next presented itself.
For several days he was at a loss to know how to overcome this obstacle
to the success of his scheme.
On the fourth day after the events narrated, Ranger announced his
intention of riding over to Wolseley Station on business which would
detain him until the evening of the next day.
It was too good an opportunity to be missed; so a few hours after the
farmer's departure, securing a horse from amongst the many that are
allowed free range without detriment, it being only imported horses of
the better class which, as a rule, are stabled, he soon had it saddled,
and was off for "Indian Head," where he expected to find a post-box
convenient, into which his letter might be dropped.
After a couple of hours' sharp ride, he entered the little town, where,
without much difficulty, he discovered the object of his search.
Having accomplished his mission, and given his horse breathing time, he
set out on his return. The moon had not yet risen, but the stars shone
out in a clear sky; and objects were plainly visible on the road to be
traversed.
Mounting the crest of a hill, he was proceeding at an easy trot to
descend a winding pathway which led on to the plains, when something--it
was never known what--caused the horse to swerve and stumble, and the
next minute, before its rider could recover himself, he was pitched
forward with the horse on top of him.
Recovering his feet without much difficulty, the horse stood for a few
moments, and then, as if it had taken in the situation, galloped off in
the direction of home.
Barton was stunned by the fall, and lay on the road insensible.
Two hours passed before the man showed signs of returning consciousness.
Then the keen wind which blew across his face, as he lay extended on the
ground, caused a tremor to pass through his body, and opening his eyes
he endeavoured to sit up, but at first the pain which the effort
inflicted was so great he lay for a time trying to collect thoughts
which were confused and scattered. A second effort was attended with
more success, when he proceeded to make a careful examination of his
limbs, to ascertain what, if any, injury had been sustained.
Satisfied with the result that no bones had been broken, yet suffering
intensely from a sprained ankle and an injured knee-joint, which he
found would prevent him standing, let alone attempting to walk, he
realised that however desirous he might be of making progress, there was
nothing for it but to remain where he was, with what fortitude he might
be able to summon to his support.
By dint of a little exertion he managed to crawl on to the bank at the
side of the track, and there, against the trunk of a large oak, he
prepared to make the best of his position, in the hope that help of some
kind would sooner or later turn up.
He had lain there some time--dozing between whiles--when he became
conscious of sounds as of the distant grind of heavy wheels, and the
slow measured tread of horses' feet. Listening intently, he soon made
it out to be a waggon-team, which he judged to be from some neighbouring
homestead, on its way to one of the stations,--M'Lean or Indian
Head,--and, as subsequently proved to be the case, with produce to be
railed on to Regina or Winnipeg. When within range of his voice, Barton
had little difficulty in arresting the attention of the teamster, who,
stopping his horses and dropping the reins, quickly dismounted, and,
with lantern in hand made his way to the side of the track from whence
the sounds proceeded.
The position of affairs was explained, when, calling his companion to
help him, they together lifted the all but helpless man into as
comfortable a position as it was possible to make for him in the waggon,
an operation which was only accomplished with considerable difficulty,
seeing that nearly every inch of space was well occupied with farm
produce of a marketable kind.
Indian Head--his destination--was reached as daylight began to break,
when, handing Barton over for the time being to some of the railway
officials, he had just sufficient time left to get his load transferred
to one of the empty trucks in waiting, before the whistle sounded and
the heavily loaded train steamed out of the station on its way to
Regina, distant about some forty miles farther.
Having successfully accomplished the object he had in view, the
waggoner--a farmer whose homestead was but a few miles off the
rail--next proceeded to question Barton as to what was to be done with
him.
On learning that he was one of Ranger's men, and that Ranger could
probably be found at Wolseley, having intended to stay the night there,
he at once decided to send on a wire in the hope of intercepting him
there and getting him to take Indian Head as his route home in order to
pick up Barton.
In the course of the morning a reply came to say he would be there; and
late in the afternoon Ranger drove up, not a little surprised at
discovering who it was that was awaiting him, as well as the condition
he was in.
Having had the injured man transferred to his own conveyance, he mounted
and drove off.
On reaching home, he found an uneasy feeling had been spreading at the
prolonged absence of Barton, especially when it got reported that a
horse, saddled and bridled, had been found grazing, which it was
believed must have been the one Barton had started out upon the evening
before, and which had apparently returned riderless; but where his rider
had been left, no one had any means of telling, since it did not appear
to be known in which direction he had gone.
The farmer's return with the missing man at once put an end to all
doubts, and, with as little delay as possible, he was conveyed to his
own shanty, where both his sprained ankle and damaged knee received the
attention needed, so that he was soon able to resume his usual duties on
the farm.
When Barton explained to Ranger the object of his journey, which he did
as they drove home, it was one of such common occurrence that it left no
impression upon his mind as to there being anything peculiar in it.
*CHAPTER XIX.*
*HESITATING.*
"... At this hour
Lie at my mercy all mine enemies."
_The Tempest_, Act IV. sc. i.
When, in due course, Barton's letter reached Broadstone, the
astonishment and surprise it gave rise to was beyond all description.
The excitement it created in the breasts of the partners was intense.
Old memories were aroused with regard to incidents long since regarded
as for ever buried.
The circumstances under which they were now revived seemed to possess
more the character of fiction than fact. Yet the details given, and the
circumstantial nature of the narration, seemed to preclude all
possibility of doubt.
What ought to be the action of the firm in the matter now? This was the
problem which faced them, demanding a decision,--but a decision which
they found themselves unable to agree upon.
It was therefore wisely resolved to leave the matter where it was at
present, and to return to the subject later on, after each had been able
to think out what was the best course to pursue.
A week went by, during which the solicitors to the firm had been seen
and consulted. Their advice was friendly, but cautious. Whilst from a
strictly legal point of view it might be right to take steps to have the
culprit arrested and prosecuted, perfectly legitimate reasons could be
adduced for taking no notice of the letter and refraining from any
action in the matter.
Their advice was to have inquiries made, through their agents in
Ontario, as to the truth of the information forwarded, and the character
of the writer of the letter; as well as to learn, if possible, his
object in writing. It was pointed out that this need not involve any
very great expense, and on the information received they could then
decide how to act.
They resolved to follow this advice, especially as the further delay
would afford additional opportunity for reflection.
Acting upon instructions received, their solicitors wrote their agents
in Quebec, by the next outward mail, giving a full account of their
client's case, and requesting them to obtain, through the agency of the
police--or by any other means, if considered more desirable: The
character of Ranger, his holding and belongings, and his status in the
country; whether anyone known as Fellows--but whose real name was Ralph
Sinclair--was at present in his employ; the date when he came there;
where he came from; what position he was filling; and the reputation he
was held in.
The same information as to a Charles Barton; and, as this was the person
sending certain information with regard to the first named, to ascertain
to what extent they associated, and, if possible, the causes which had
induced him to reveal what he had done about the man known as Fellows.
It was specially enjoined that the information was to be obtained with
the greatest caution, as on no account must it leak out that these
inquiries were being made from England.
As the matter seemed to be one possessing features of interest which
might lead to important developments, the agents lost no time in seeking
an interview with the chief of police; who, after a careful perusal of
the letter from their correspondents, promised he would write for full
information to their headquarters staff at Regina, who would no doubt be
able to get what was wanted.
In the attitude taken up by the great firm of Quinion towards their
former employe, there was no feeling of vindictiveness manifested. They
had, in fact, never yet been known to prosecute a defaulting servant,
although many opportunities had offered for so doing. Their leniency
towards men who had been detected defrauding them had almost become
proverbial, so that they were beginning to look upon it themselves as a
matter of reproach.
The members of the firm were men of high principle, anxious not only to
stand well in the public gaze, but desirous that their motives should be
beyond suspicion. They were nominally religious men, but making no very
pronounced profession of their opinions and beliefs. Crooked and
perverse as the treatment of their London employes had been, their
conduct was so surrounded with sophisms for arguments, that shadows had
assumed substantial form, and they seemed to have persuaded themselves,
if not others, that in all that they had done they had been guided only
by the highest principles of moral rectitude, leaving nothing of which
they need feel ashamed.