Foster got up late and after breakfast sat by the kitchen fire,
studying his map. He imagined that his pursuers, believing him to be
in front, had crossed the low ground towards the cultivated valley of
the Esk, where they would not have trouble in finding shelter for the
night. Then, if they thought he was making for the Garth, the railway
would take them up Liddesdale.
He meant to visit the Garth, although this might prove dangerous if
Graham and his companion watched the neighborhood. So long as Pete was
close at hand, the risk might not be great, but Pete could not be with
him always and he thought Graham would stick at nothing to get his
papers back. One of the gang had killed Fred Hulton, and Foster did
not suppose the others would hesitate about getting rid of him, if it
could be done without putting the police on their track. A shot or
stab in the dark would effectually prevent his betraying them, and it
might be made to look like an accident, or perhaps as if he had killed
himself. Foster, as a rule, distrusted anything that looked abnormal
or theatrical, but admitted that he might be in some danger. For all
that, he was going. There was no need for an early start, because he
did not want to arrive in daylight and the distance was not great.
Then he meant to avoid the high roads, and after a talk with Pete
picked out his route across the hills. It was eleven o'clock when they
set off, and they spent an hour sheltering behind a dyke while a
snowstorm broke upon the moor. The snow was wet and did not lie, but
the soaked grass and ling afterwards clung about their feet and made
walking laborious. The sky was gray and lowering and there was a
bitter wind, but they pushed on across the high moors, and when the
light was going saw a gap in a long ridge in front. Foster thought
this marked the way down to the Garth.
It was nearly dark when they reached the gap, through which a brown
stream flowed, and he could see nothing except dim hillsides and the
black trough of the hollow. Pete said they must follow the water, and
they stumbled downhill among the stones beside the burn. As they
descended, a valley opened up and a rough track began near a sheepfold.
Although it was dark, Foster saw that they were now crossing rushy
pasture, and they had to stop every now and then to open a gate. The
stream was swelling with tributaries from the hills and began to roar
among the stones. Birches clustered in the hollows, the track became a
road, and at length a group of lights twinkled across a fir wood and he
knew the Garth was not far ahead.
Now he had got there, he almost wished he had kept away. He was not
sure of his welcome and did not know what line to take if Featherstone
showed his doubts. For one thing, he did not mean to talk about his
adventures in Newcastle and on Spadeadam waste. The affair was too
theatrical for the unimaginative country gentleman to believe, and for
that matter, when Foster went up the drive past the well-kept
shrubberies and lawn he found it hard to realize that he had been
hunted by determined men and was now perhaps in danger of his life.
Featherstone, living in his quiet house, could not be expected to
credit such a romantic tale. Graham's letters would to some extent
corroborate his statements, but not unless Featherstone accepted his
surmises as correct; but Foster admitted that after all pride was his
strongest motive for saying nothing. If Featherstone distrusted him,
he must continue to do so until Foster's efforts to help Lawrence were
successful.
He braced his courage when he rang the bell, but John, who let him in,
did not seem to find anything remarkable in his choice of a companion.
Pete looked very big and rather truculent in his rough, wet clothes,
but he was not embarrassed.
"This is a friend of mine," said Foster. "I should be obliged if you
will look after him."
John showed no surprise at his statement. "Very good, sir; I think I
can promise that. Will you give me your coat, sir?" Then he beckoned
Pete. "If you please, come with me."
He took Pete away and Foster wondered with some amusement what they
thought of one another. A few moments afterwards Alice came in,
dressed with a curious elegant plainness that he thought suited her.
Alice needed no ornaments, and fripperies would have struck a jarring
note. Foster sometimes called her stately, though he felt that this
was not quite what he meant. She had a certain quiet grace, touched
with pride, that he had never noticed about anybody else, although he
admitted that his knowledge of girls like Alice Featherstone was small.
Now, however, she was not as calm as usual, for her eyes had a keen
sparkle and her look was animated. He wondered whether he could
believe this was because she was glad to see him.
"You have not been long," she said with a welcoming smile. "Have you
succeeded?"
"On the whole, I think so," Foster answered modestly.
"That's splendid!" she exclaimed and he could not doubt the approval in
her voice. It sounded as if she meant to applaud him as well as show
her satisfaction with the consequences of his exploit.
"Well, I haven't got very far yet, although I imagine I'm on the right
line. But have you heard from Lawrence?"
"No," she replied and her satisfaction vanished. Indeed, Foster was
somewhat puzzled by the change. "I must confess that I'm getting
anxious now."
Foster nodded, "Then I must go and look for him as soon as I've had a
reckoning with Daly."
"Daly has been here----" she said and stopped as Mrs. Featherstone came
in.
The latter looked at Foster rather curiously, but gave him her hand and
seemed to take it for granted that he meant to resume his stay. She
said her husband had gone to dine with a neighbor and would not be back
for an hour or two, and then let Foster go to his room.
Dinner was served soon after he came down, but while they talked freely
about matters of no importance Foster noted a subtle difference in Mrs.
Featherstone's manner. She was not less friendly than usual, but she
asked no questions about his journey and avoided mentioning Lawrence.
It looked as if she knew her husband's doubts, but Foster somehow
thought she did not altogether share them. In the meantime, he tried
to act as if their relations were perfectly normal, but found it hard,
and now and then glanced at the clock. It was a long way to the
nearest inn and he wondered when Featherstone would return, because he
could not accept the hospitality of a man who distrusted him.
When dinner was over, he went with the others to the drawing-room and
did his best to engage them in careless talk. Alice supported him when
his efforts flagged, as they sometimes did, and once or twice gave him
a half-amused, half-sympathetic glance. He did not know if he was
grateful for this or not, but saw that she knew what he felt. If Mrs.
Featherstone guessed, she made no sign; she treated him with the
graciousness one would expect from a well-bred hostess, but went no
further.
It was a relief when Featherstone came in. He made a little abrupt
movement when he saw Foster, to whom he did not give his hand. The
latter thought he looked disturbed.
"I am sorry I was not at home when you arrived," Featherstone said.
"Still, I had no reason for thinking you would be here."
"In fact, you were rather surprised to see me," Foster suggested.
Featherstone looked at him as if he thought he had been blunter than
was necessary, but replied: "Well, I suppose that's true, but I have no
doubt Mrs. Featherstone has made up for my absence, and since you have
come, we would like to talk to you about Lawrence. I dare say you will
give us a few minutes."
He opened the door as Mrs. Featherstone rose, and Foster went with them
to the library, where Featherstone sat down at a big table. It was
here he wrote his business letters and occasionally attended to
magisterial duties, and Foster thought this was why he had chosen the
place. It, no doubt, gave him a feeling of authority. Mrs.
Featherstone sat by the fire, but Foster was surprised when Alice came
in. Featherstone glanced at her with a frown.
"It might have been better if you had stayed downstairs and left this
matter to your mother and me," he remarked and waited, as if he
expected his wife to support him, but she did not.
"No," said Alice; "I am beginning to get anxious about Lawrence, and if
Mr. Foster can tell us anything fresh, I ought to hear it. But I don't
think he can. I believe he told us all he knew before."
Featherstone looked disturbed by her boldness, but Foster felt a
thrill. Alice was on his side and meant to show the others her
confidence in his honesty. He wondered what Featherstone would do, and
was not surprised when he made a gesture of resignation. Foster knew
his comrade well, and imagined that Featherstone was very like
Lawrence. The latter was physically brave, but sometimes gave way to
moral pressure and vacillated when he should be firm. Both showed a
certain lack of rude stamina; they were, so to speak, too fine in the
grain. Foster, however, had other things to think about, and indeed
felt rather like a culprit brought before his judges. Then Mrs.
Featherstone relieved the unpleasant tension.
"We have not heard from Lawrence yet and do not understand it. Can you
do anything to set our fears at rest?"
"I'm sorry I can't," said Foster, and seeing he must deal with the
matter boldly, asked Featherstone: "Have you any ground for believing I
have not been frank?"
"It is an awkward question. You are our guest and my son sent you to
us. I must add that we had begun to like you for your own sake; but I
have grounds for supposing that you kept something back. To begin
with, Daly, whom you told us you meant to mislead, was here again
yesterday."
"Did you give way to his demands? It's important that I should know."
Featherstone hesitated, and Foster saw where his suspicions led, but
for the next moment or two was absorbed by speculations about Daly's
visit. Then Alice looked at her father with a smile.
"You can tell Mr. Foster. It's obvious that if he was in league with
the fellow he would have no need to ask."
"I did not give way," said Featherstone. "He must have seen that I was
determined, because after the first I thought he did not press me very
hard."
"Ah!" said Foster; "that was curious, but we'll let it go in the
meantime. I suppose there is something else?"
"Since you left, the police have paid me another visit. They asked
some rather strange questions, besides inquiring where you were."
"Which you couldn't tell them!"
"I didn't know," Featherstone rejoined pointedly, and Foster saw that
Alice had said nothing about his recent visit. She gave him an
inquiring glance, as if she wondered why he did not state his reasons
for going to Newcastle, but he looked as unobservant as he could. He
could not signal her, because while this might escape his host's notice
he was afraid of Mrs. Featherstone.
"Well," he said, "it might be better if you, so to speak, formulated
your suspicions and made a definite charge. After all, I'm entitled to
hear it."
"I do so most unwillingly, but feel an explanation is needed. To begin
with, we had one short letter from my son, stating that he could not
come home but you would tell us how he was getting on. This was all;
he said nothing about Daly, or his starting east with you. You arrived
with his portmanteau and what I now think is a rather curious story.
Then, after Daly wrote, you suggested an extraordinary plan, which, as
the fellow came here, has not worked very well. Besides, the police
have made inquiries about you and there's something mysterious about
your journeys. I do not think they were all intended to mislead Daly."
"All this is true," Foster admitted. "But you haven't stated the
conclusions you draw from it."
"The conclusions are vague but disturbing. Lawrence trusted you and,
you tell us, started with you for a place he did not intend to reach.
Since then he has vanished. It is possible that you have deceived both
him and us."
"That's rather absurd," Alice remarked. "I really don't think Mr.
Foster would make a very dangerous plotter, and you admitted that
Lawrence trusted him."
"I did," Featherstone rejoined sharply, as if he resented the
interruption. "Still I don't see your argument."
"She means that Lawrence is not a simpleton," Mrs. Featherstone
interposed. "For myself, I doubt if Mr. Foster could deceive him."
"We'll go on," Featherstone resumed, turning to Foster. "There was a
very mysterious affair at Gardner's Crossing shortly before you left
and some valuable bonds were missing."
Foster's face got red, but he laughed. "This is too much, sir! If
your suspicions went so far, why did you not tell the police?"
"Ah!" said Featherstone with some awkwardness, "there you have me at a
disadvantage! While Daly has the power to injure Lawrence, I must keep
the police in the dark." He paused and added: "I cannot say I believed
you reckoned on this."
"Thank you," said Foster, but Alice broke in: "Why don't you tell my
father why you went to Newcastle?"
Featherstone gave her a surprised glance and then turned to Foster.
"It looks as if my daughter were better informed than I. There is
obviously something I do not know about."
"There is; but I must ask Miss Featherstone to respect my confidence in
the meantime," Foster answered, and getting up, stood silent for a few
moments, resting his hand on his chair.
He saw restrained curiosity in Mrs. Featherstone's face and her
husband's anger, while he thought Alice knew how significant the line
she had taken looked. She had boldly admitted that he knew her well
enough to trust her with his secrets, and declared herself on his side.
In the meantime, he was conscious of a strain that he thought the
others felt and was sorry for Featherstone. He could not resent the
man's anxiety about his son. For all that, he did not mean to tell him
why he had gone to Newcastle. It would not make a plausible tale.
"I must own that things look bad for me," he said. "I can't offer any
explanation that would satisfy you and could not expect you to take my
word that I mean well. All I can do is to frighten off Daly and then
find Lawrence, and I'm going to try."
"It doesn't matter much about Daly now. But if you can find Lawrence,
you will clear yourself."
Alice turned to her father with an angry sparkle in her eyes. "That's
a very grudging concession for us to make. We will not blame Mr.
Foster when he has proved that it's impossible for him to be guilty!"
The tension was too great for any of them to be much surprised by her
outbreak and Featherstone said dully, "It's logical."
"Logical!" Alice exclaimed in a scornful tone. "Do you expect Mr.
Foster to be satisfied with that, after what he has borne and the risks
he has run for us? Now, when things look bad for him, is the time for
you to show your trust and knowledge of character."
"You imply that your judgment is better than mine?" Featherstone
rejoined, but without heat.
"I know an honest man," Alice said quietly, with some color in her face.
There was silence for a few moments and by an effort of self-control
Foster kept his face unmoved. He did not mean to let the others see
the exultant satisfaction the girl's statement had given him.
Featherstone brooded with knitted brows and a troubled look. Then he
said:
"You will understand, Mr. Foster, that this has been a painful
interview to my wife and me. You were our guest and my son's friend;
but I do not know what has happened and we have no news of him. If you
can bring him back, I will ask your forgiveness for all that I have
said."
"I will do my best and get to work to-morrow," Foster answered. Then
he bowed to Mrs. Featherstone and Alice, and the girl gave him a look
that made his heart beat as he went out of the room.
Shortly afterwards he entered the hall, wearing his damp walking
clothes, and met Mrs. Featherstone, who protested against his leaving
them at night. Foster answered that he had no time to lose and
beckoning Pete, who was waiting, went out. Alice had not come down to
bid him good-by, but after all he had not expected this; the meeting
would not have been free from embarrassment. He had much to say to
her, but must wait until he had kept his promise.
He did not blame Featherstone and rather sympathized with him, but
could not stay at the Garth or come back there until he had cleared up
the mystery about his comrade's silence. Pete did not grumble much
when they went down the drive, but said he had no friends in the
neighborhood and it was a long way to the nearest inn.