On his way to Liverpool, Foster tried to review the situation calmly.
His anger was vanishing, but he still felt sore and annoyed with
himself. He had weakly yielded to sentimental pity for an attractive
girl and had paid for it, because she had, no doubt, warned Daly, who
knew from Foster's boldness that he had learned enough to make him
dangerous. The latter grimly resolved that he would not let any
Quixotic folly spoil his plans again. He had been cleverly tricked,
but was not beaten yet, because a study of the steamship advertisements
led him to believe that Daly could not leave Liverpool until the
afternoon. Moreover, the fellow was obviously afraid of him.
Arriving shortly after twelve o'clock, he drove to the Canadian Pacific
office and asked a clerk for a list of the passengers by a steamer
announced to sail that day. He was given a list and saw that Mr.
Andrew Forbes had taken a saloon berth. This indicated that Daly had
booked his passage beforehand.
"I see my friend's on board," Foster remarked. "Have you got a first
and a second-class berth left?"
"We had," the clerk said, smiling, "Unfortunately, the boat has gone."
"Gone!" exclaimed Foster, who got a shock. "Don't your steamers sail
in the afternoon?"
"As a rule," the clerk agreed. "However, this is an extra sailing, and
we sent her off earlier to pick up passengers at Belfast Lough."
Foster said nothing, but left the office with a determined look. A
swift Canadian Northern liner sailed from Bristol two days later and
ought to reach Quebec soon after the other boat. He thought of
telegraphing to secure a berth, but decided not to do so. He had given
Gordon his Carlisle address, which was all that he had promised, and
although he had heard nothing from him, the police might make inquiries
at the steamship offices. On the whole, it seemed safer to leave
Liverpool and he took the first train to Bristol, but got out at
Hereford, which was about half-way. It would be awkward if the police
interfered with him now.
Reaching Bristol shortly before the steamer sailed, he had no trouble
in taking a passage for himself and Pete, and arrived at Quebec about
twelve hours after the Canadian Pacific boat. Daly had got a start,
and although Foster did not mean to give up the chase, he felt
depressed as the train sped through the forests of Ontario. It was not
long since he had come that way in high spirits, looking forward with
pleasure to a holiday. Now he looked back, with a feeling of
unreality, on his wanderings among the Scottish bogs. All he had done
seemed ridiculous and fantastic. Nobody was the better for it, while
he had involved himself in a horrible tangle. The police were probably
on his track and Featherstone suspected him; he had acted like a
romantic boy and not a sober man. There was, however, one bright
gleam; Alice trusted him, and he must show that he deserved her
confidence.
Arriving at Gardner's Crossing in the evening, he sent Pete to the
hotel and went to Austin's house. He must see Carmen and resolved that
she should find him proof against her wiles; he was not going to be a
sentimental fool again. In a general way, Carmen was, of course, too
clever for him, but he had now certain advantages which he meant to use.
He was shown into her drawing-room, where he was left for some time,
and imagined with rather grim amusement that she was making
preparations to receive him. Carmen knew the power of her beauty,
which, however, owed much to her tasteful dress. In the meantime, he
looked about the room. It was pretty with a certain exotic touch that
the girl knew how to give. The color-plan of carpets, rugs, and
curtains, although rather vivid, was good; the furniture pleased the
eye. Foster had once thought it charmingly artistic, but knew better
now. Alice Featherstone had taught him the difference between
prettiness and dignified beauty. He felt that difference plainly when
Carmen came in, dressed like the fashionable women he had seen in
Edinburgh.
"You have come back soon, but it's nice to see you," she said with a
smile. "The Crossing was duller than usual after you had gone."
"Thank you! I came back sooner than I expected," Foster replied,
rather dryly.
Carmen gave him a quick look, but sat down with languid grace in an
easy chair.
"Well, I've no doubt you have much to tell me about your trip, and if
you'll talk about Edinburgh and London, I won't let anybody in."
"Aren't you anxious to know if I delivered the packet?"
"The packet? I had forgotten it," Carmen said carelessly. "Still, I
did think you might have written to let me know you took it safe. But
I dare say you had many interesting things to do."
"As it happened, I had," Foster replied with a touch of grimness. "For
all that, I delivered the packet and got an answer."
Carmen regarded him with surprise, as if she thought he had not played
up. "You can give me the answer afterwards. Tell me about
Featherstone's place and his people. I'm curious about them;
particularly his sisters. I suppose he has some?"
Foster thought he understood. Carmen was clever and would not have
used such obvious means had she wished to learn if Lawrence had a
sister who had attracted him. What she wanted was to persuade him that
the packet was not important.
"I'd sooner talk about the errand you gave me. Did you know what the
packet contained?"
She laughed, but he thought the laugh was forced. "Doesn't that sound
rather stupid when I sent the thing?"
"Perhaps it does," said Foster gravely. "Still, I hope you didn't
know."
Her coquettish manner vanished and she leaned slightly forward while
her eyes got hard. Indeed, there was something feline in her alert
pose. Now she had, so to speak, unsheathed her claws, he was glad the
advantage was heavily on his side. For all that, he did not want to
hurt her.
"Go on," she said sharply.
"Very well. I got an answer, which I opened. I'll show it to you, but
won't give it up."
"You opened it!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean to keep a letter that was
sent to me?"
"I don't think it was sent to you; that's important."
Carmen smiled defiantly and Foster admired her pluck, since it was
obvious that he had found out the trick. Still he thought she did not
know how important the letter really was.
"Then you can quit fencing and get down to business," she said, and
Foster saw that the surface polish she generally wore was thin. The
character it concealed was fierce and somewhat primitive. He had
suspected that Carmen would not be restrained by conventions if she let
herself go.
"If you'll be patient, I'll try to make things plain."
He began by hastily recounting what had happened at the factory the
night Fred Hulton was killed. Carmen was obviously puzzled, which was
a relief to him, but he saw comprehension in her look as he went on to
relate how he had been watched by the police, and his interview with
Graham and subsequent adventures. By degrees, her understanding
changed to horror, and when he stopped he saw that she had got a cruel
shock. Her face was white, her gaze was fixed, and, her eyes were
unusually wide open. Still he thought it was through her pride she
suffered most. Then she braced herself and looked at him scornfully.
"You surely lost your nerve and got imagining things when you were
hiding in the bogs. It's a quite impossible story!"
"It sounds like that, but I have some proof; money for Daly and another
man, which I suppose you were to send on. It's evidently their share
of the plunder."
He took out his wallet and held up the checks, keeping, however, a firm
grip on them, because he knew that if Carmen meant to fight for her
lover she would not be scrupulous.
"Daly wasn't near the factory the night Fred Hulton was killed. I know
where he was," she said in a strained but defiant voice.
"All the better for him," Foster rejoined. "It's pretty clear that he
had a share in the thing."
Carmen suddenly leaned back and turned her head. She had given in
sooner than Foster expected, but the evidence was overwhelming. He did
not look at her for some moments and felt ashamed of the cruelty he had
had to use, but there was no avoiding this when a number of people's
happiness was at stake. After all, he thought it was rather her
ambition than her affection that had been engaged. Then rousing
herself with an effort she turned to him.
"Well," she said, "it looks as if I'd had an escape!"
Foster felt comforted, but did not answer, and she resumed: "You
haven't told me this for nothing. What do you want?"
"I want to know where Daly is. I've no doubt he called here on his way
west and you have his address."
"You can't force me to give it you."
"I don't know if I can or not, but don't want to use force," Foster
replied, and while he waited, hesitating to play his last card, Carmen
looked up with fear in her eyes.
"Jake," she said, "you mustn't think my father knows anything about
this. I sent the packet, without telling him, because Daly asked me."
"But your father and he had some business together that nobody knew
about."
"They had. They were really backing Nicholson, who got the first
recorders turned off the Fish-hawk silver claim."
"Ah!" said Foster, "now I understand!"
He was glad to admit that her statement explained Austin's rather
mysterious association with Daly. Public feeling had been strongly
roused by the dispute about the mine, whose finders it was believed had
been cunningly cheated out of their rights. There were, moreover,
hints of foul play about a dangerous accident in the workings that had
given the victorious claimants a legal advantage. Foster could imagine
Daly's finding scope for his talents in the trickery and intrigue, and
saw why Austin did not want his share in it known.
"In a way, it's a relief to find that's all your father had to do with
the fellow," he resumed. "Anyhow, I want his address."
"I won't give it you," Carmen answered stubbornly.
Foster hesitated. The shock the girl had got had broken down her
self-control. He shrank from turning this to his advantage and dealing
her another blow, but could not be fastidious when his partner's safety
and Alice Featherstone's happiness were at stake. Besides, it would be
better for Carmen that her infatuation for Daly should be altogether
destroyed.
"Well," he said, "I'm surprised that you should still feel you ought to
protect the man, and must try to convince you that he doesn't deserve
it."
Then he related what he had seen in the corridor of the Carlisle hotel
and how Miss Huntley had helped Daly to deceive him. Carmen's face
paled and then suddenly turned crimson; but she answered with a
quietness he had not expected:
"You're not a liar, Jake, so I suppose this is true. But you're all of
you human, and you say the girl is pretty. What you saw mayn't mean
very much."
"She wore an engagement ring. I don't imagine it was given her by
another man."
Then Carmen flung the last of her self-control away. Her eyes flashed
and Foster thought she looked like a wild cat as she indulged her
savage rage.
"The cur!" she cried in a harsh voice. "He went to Banff, in British
Columbia. Now you know, you had better go after him. Do what you like
with him; I don't mind!"
Foster went to the door, but as he reached it she called him back and
looked at him with a bitter, mocking smile.
"You're smarter than I thought, Jake, but I suppose you think I don't
know why you meddled! It wasn't for your partner's sake, though I soon
guessed that Daly was getting after him; Featherstone has a sister, and
you have fallen in love with her. Well, she can have you with pleasure
if she has any use for you, and before long you'll make her deadly
tired. You'd bore a live woman crazy in a week; you'll never be rich,
because you're afraid of touching a dollar you don't earn, and you've
got the morals of a convent-school girl!" She gasped and resumed in a
scream: "Why don't you go before I throw something at you?"
Foster left and was glad when he shut the door. Carmen was obviously
beside herself and had gone further than she meant. If it was any
comfort to insult him, he did not grudge it her, but thought he saw
where her remarks led. He had been rather fond of Carmen, as she no
doubt knew, before he understood her, and their friendship might have
ripened until----. Well, he was sorry for her, but it looked as if she
was not the only person who had had an escape.
When he got outside, he went to the factory and found Hulton alone in
the president's room. The man looked worn, but greeted Foster with a
reserved smile and gave him a cigar.
"You haven't been away very long," he remarked. "Didn't your visit
turn out as pleasant as you expected?"
"In one way, it did not. But why did you send the British police after
me?"
"As a matter of fact, I let them know you were all right, but my agent
had to go to them, and thought it might be better if they kept a watch
on you. You'd got busy about some mysterious business. What was it?"
"I can't tell you," said Foster bluntly. "It only concerns me and
Featherstone, but it led to something else; I'll come to that later.
What about the man I helped on the train? If he got through all right,
why didn't he send me word?"
"As the fellows who attacked you had got on the wrong track, we thought
we'd let them follow it, but they were smarter than we reckoned and we
lost them."
"Then you made use of me, at my risk, as the Scottish police did
afterwards?" Foster rejoined. "I don't know that I've much to thank
you for, since it led to my being thrown off the Montreal express and
chased across the Border bogs."
"I must allow that we did something of the kind," Hulton owned with a
smile. "But we'll let that go. What have you found out?"
Foster handed him Graham's letter and the check on the American bank,
but not the circular check for Daly. Hulton's face showed stern
satisfaction and he gave Foster a very grateful look.
"I owe you much for this and am not going to forget the service. These
papers prove conspiracy and robbery, and clear my boy. But how did you
get them?"
Foster supplied a garbled account of his interview with Graham, and
Hulton looked at him thoughtfully.
"Its plain that you're keeping something back, but if it's your or your
partner's business, I suppose I can't object. I believe you mean to do
the square thing."
"Thank you," said Foster. "What have you found out about Daly?"
"Enough to show he wasn't at the factory the night Fred was killed,"
Hulton answered with stern self-control. "But he was in the plot and
is being watched in Scotland."
"Then you don't know that he's in Canada?"
Hulton stretched out his hand to a bell, but Foster stopped him.
"Wait a moment! You have got to leave Daly to me. Anyhow, you're not
to send your agents or the police after him until I telegraph you. I'm
going to look for him by to-night's train."
"The train goes west," Hulton answered meaningly.
"It does, but if I think I'm followed, I'll spoil the trail."
Hulton's eyes flashed and his face set very hard. "The man belongs to
the gang that killed my son and tried to blacken his name. I don't
quit until I've run the last rogue down."
"I mean to see Daly first," Foster answered doggedly.
After a moment or two, Hulton made a gesture of agreement. "Very well;
I allow you have a claim. But I won't interfere if my agents have
already got on his track."
"I must take the risk of that," Foster replied and left the factory a
few minutes afterwards.