Next morning Foster got up in the dark and walked briskly down the main
street to the bridge. Lights were beginning to blink in the houses he
passed and there was a pungent smell of burning wood. In front, the
forest rolled upwards in a blurred, dark mass, but he could not see the
mountains. The air was still and felt damp upon his skin, and he knew
a sudden rise of temperature accounted for the obscurity. The main
thing, however, was that there was nobody to watch him, and he set off
along the road he had taken on the previous night.
He had some trouble to keep the trail when he plunged in among the
trees, but day had broken when he reached the clearing, and a faint
gray light shone through the haze. There was no obvious reason why the
stranger's disappearance at the spot should interest him, but his
suspicions were quickly excited and it looked as if the fellow had
tried to make his acquaintance in order to learn his business in the
town. He had come early, hoping to find footprints that might give him
a hint, but was disappointed. There were a number of marks, but they
had lost their sharpness and he could not tell which had been made
recently.
In the meantime, the light was growing and he saw that the shack at the
foot of the rocks had partly fallen down. Thick wooden beams and props
lay beside the ironwork he had noticed on his last visit. It was
obvious that he was looking at a mineral claim that had been abandoned
after some development work had been done, while the trampled snow
indicated that somebody had been removing the material not long since.
Passing the heap of rusty iron, from which the snow was beginning to
shrink, he found a narrow opening in the foot of the hill. This was a
test adit, and the tilt of the strata indicated that its slope was
steep. The stone that had been taken out showed that it did not
penetrate far, and Foster saw no reason for entering.
He next studied the rocks, and although he saw no path, imagined that
one could get up that way, but could not see why anybody should wish to
do so, and the snow did not seem to have been disturbed. After a
minute or two he turned back into the wood with a gesture of
disappointment.
The man he had followed had apparently come there to meet somebody, but
although the mine was conveniently near the town it was a cold and
cheerless spot for a rendezvous, Foster surmised from this that secrecy
was important, but after all there was nothing to indicate that the
matter had anything to do with him. As he went back he heard a musical
humming in the tops of the pines and a lump of wet snow, slipping from
a branch, struck his face. The humming grew louder until the wood was
filled with sound, and he began to feel clammy and hot. A warm Chinook
wind from the Pacific was sweeping up the valley, driving back the
frost.
When he reached the town the snow was wet and the lights were out, but
the post office was open, and having telegraphed his new address, he
went in to ask if there was any mail for him. A girl was busy behind a
lettered brass wicket, but did not look up, and Foster saw the man in
whom he was interested standing among some others farther along the
counter. The fellow came towards him.
"Been for a walk?" he said. "You get up early."
"I'm used to that," Foster answered with a careless smile. "Anyhow, I
want my mail, and you enjoy breakfast better if you've been out first."
"Sure thing," agreed the other. "But you want to put on rubber shoes
when a Chinook wind strikes this town."
Then the girl clerk looked up and when Foster inquired for letters
threw him two. His companion asked for his, giving the name of
Telford, and she indicated the lettering on the wicket.
"Farther along, where you came from! Can't you read the alphabet?"
"I can, now I see it," said the other good-humoredly as he turned back.
On the whole, Foster was glad he had picked up the letters as the girl
threw them down. It is customary in Western cities for people to call
for their mail and girl clerks are sometimes curt, but she seemed to
think it strange that the fellow had come to the wrong wicket. If he
had had an object for doing so, he had learned Foster's name, but the
latter did not think he had seen the postmarks or that one letter had
an English stamp. Still, he had noted that Foster's boots were wet,
which indicated that the latter had gone farther than the post office.
He went out before he opened the envelopes, and then glancing at the
letters put them in his pocket with a thrill of satisfaction, meaning
to read them carefully after breakfast. Entering the hotel, he hung up
his coat and went to the dining-room. He was promptly served, and when
he went out after finishing his meal, saw Telford, who had apparently
just returned from the post office, standing in the passage, which was
rather dark. It looked as if he had been hanging up his coat, but he
stood near Foster's, and then moved on abruptly as another man came up.
Foster met them and saw that the last was the man whom he had
half-suspected of watching Telford on the first evening. As he passed,
he took the letters from his coat, and entering the rotunda sat down
and lighted his pipe. It was possible that Telford had meant to search
his pockets, but had been prevented by the appearance of the other, and
Foster frowned. He was feeling the strain of the constant watchfulness
and getting tired of intrigue. As a matter of fact, he hated that kind
of thing, and it would be a keen relief when he could attend to his
proper business and finish with the need for caution. In the meantime,
he did not know if he had found a fresh clew or not. After all, he had
not much ground for suspecting Telford.
Then Foster forgot his perplexities as he took out the letters. The
first was from Lucy Stephen, who said that the doctor had visited
Lawrence and was satisfied with his progress. She added that Foster
knew Lawrence disliked writing letters, but she wanted to reassure him
and wish him good luck. The note was short, but seemed to put Foster
on a footing of intimate friendship that he was grateful for, and he
thought Lucy had written with this object.
The other was from Alice Featherstone and his heart beat as he studied
it. She did not say much; they had still no news of Lawrence and her
father was very restless and anxious, while she feared her mother felt
the suspense. But she knew Foster would make every effort and would
not fail them; there was nobody else who could help. All she said
struck a note of quiet confidence. Her faith was unshaken; she trusted
him.
Foster thrilled and his weariness and dejection vanished. Alice would
have got Lawrence's telegram soon after she wrote and she had proof of
his honesty now. Still, he had only kept half his promise, and
although he had undertaken a task that needed abilities he doubted if
he possessed, he meant to keep the other half. He was hemmed in by
difficulties and might make mistakes, but somehow he was going to make
good.
For a time he sat in a corner, recalling what Alice had said in England
and how she had looked. He pictured her standing in the dark-paneled
library at the Garth, with eyes that sparkled as she spoke in his
defense, sitting with a smile in the half-light by the big hearth in
the hall, and waiting for him in the orchard. She moved through all
the scenes with the same calm grace; even in her anger--and he had seen
her angry--there was a proud reserve. But Alice stood above all other
women; there was nobody like her.
Then he got up with a resolute movement. Dreams and memories would not
help, and he must get to work. To begin with, he would try to find out
something about Telford, and went to the office, where the clerk was
unoccupied. As a rule, nobody knows more about everybody else's
business than the clerk of a Western hotel.
"Is there much doing in real estate just now?" he asked.
"There will be soon. The mines are paying well and the bosses are
planning new developments. Then there's a big scheme for opening up
the ranching land in the bench country. That means a bigger city. Are
you looking for building lots?"
"My line's dressed lumber, but when you get a building boom you want
material. I suppose Mr. Telford does a good trade?"
"Talks as if he was going to, but he hasn't begun yet," the clerk
replied with a smile that hinted that he had expected the inquiry.
"Then he hasn't been here long?"
"Only came into town a week since," said the clerk, rather dryly.
"When things look like humming these fellows generally do come along.
But you want to go slow when you deal with a real-estate man, unless
you know all about him."
"Yes," said Foster thoughtfully, "as a rule, that's true. Thank you,
anyhow."
He went back to his seat and lighted his pipe again. He had learned
that Telford was a stranger and had apparently thought it advisable to
account for his visiting the town. Foster saw that he ought to have
guessed the fellow was not a resident when he asked for his mail,
because had he been in business in the city he would have had his
private box at the post office. Moreover he imagined that the clerk
knew he really wanted to find out something about Telford, and thought
him clumsy, but this did not matter. He had been told he had an
ingenuous look, which was rather an advantage, since it suited the part
he meant to play. He did not want people to think him clever, but they
must not suspect that he was pretending to be dull. Remembering his
mistakes, he smiled as he admitted that there was not much danger of
this. By and by Telford came in and sat down in the next chair.
"Nothing doing this morning and the street's all mush," he said. "If
you're not busy, would you like a game of pool?"
Foster agreed. His only business was to find out Telford's, and the
man had given him an opportunity. The pool room is an institution in
Canadian towns, but is not, as a rule, much frequented in the morning
when trade is good. They had no trouble in getting a table and began
to play for a small stake, which Telford insisted on. Foster did not
know much about pool, and indeed had seldom had time for games, but he
had a steady hand and, somewhat to his surprise, won. Telford, who
raised the stake, won the next game, but was afterwards beaten.
In the meantime, Foster had studied his game. The man made some clever
strokes, but bungled others. He was not steady enough, but on the
whole Foster imagined he meant to let him win. For all that, he did
not think the other was playing a common trick with the object of
leading him on. The amount of the stake was not large enough for this.
"Well," said Telford, "I guess you're too good for me. Suppose we sit
down and take a smoke. I'll play you again another day."
"What you want to do is to let up on the drinks the night before,"
remarked a man who was standing by. "If you were as cool and steady as
he is, you'd beat him easy."
"Perhaps that's so," said Telford with a good-humored laugh and gave
Foster a cigar.
"Are you going to make expenses this trip?" he asked.
"I can't say yet," Foster replied. "Anyhow, you don't lose much by
taking a look round, and I sometimes go outside my regular line."
"Well, if you feel like speculating in building lots, I might put you
wise."
Foster pondered. He knew that gambling on unused land was popular in
Canada, in spite of taxes planned to prevent it, and while there are
respectable real estate agents, the fringe of the profession is
occupied by sharpers who prey upon what is fast becoming a national
vice. Confiding strangers with money to invest are often swindled, and
there was an obvious motive for Telford's trying to cultivate his
acquaintance. On the whole, however, he did not think the fellow meant
to victimize him in this way, though he was perhaps willing that Foster
should suspect him of such a plan. If so, it might be better to
indulge him.
"As a rule, I have a use for all the money I've got," he remarked.
"Still if I could find a lot that was bound to go up----"
The other followed the lead and talked about city extension and the
development of the neighboring land. He seemed to know his subject,
and Foster was beginning to think his suspicions mistaken when Telford
carelessly interpolated a few adroit questions about his usual
occupation. The questions were difficult to answer without telling
more than it was advisable that the other should know, or, what was
equally to be avoided, showing that Foster was on his guard. He was
now nearly sure that the fellow was an accomplice of Daly's, and the
line he had resolved on would be difficult.
He had to deal with a clever rogue who probably knew something about
him and meant to find out more. In consequence, there was no use in
trying to pose as an unsophisticated simpleton; he must, so to speak,
play up to the fellow and persuade him that any suspicions he
entertained were about the latter's designs upon his money. With this
object, he disputed some of Telford's opinions and presently proved a
statement of his wrong.
Telford looked embarrassed and Foster thought he did it very well.
"Perhaps I was putting it a bit too high, but the deal ought to turn
out a snap if you can wait a while," he said, and laughed. "Anyhow
I've got to give you bedrock facts after the way you caught me out.
Say, you're pretty smart!"
"You're apt to get stung over a land deal unless you're careful,"
Foster modestly replied.
It was a relief when Telford said they would stop talking business and
proposed a visit to a bar. Foster felt mentally exhausted and thought
a drink would brace him. He did not see Telford at dinner and kept out
of his way during the afternoon, but the man came into the dining-room
when supper was served. The room was large and furnished with separate
tables, but Foster thought he knew the faces of the regular customers
and noticed that a stranger sat at a table by himself.
Telford made for this table, which seemed natural, since there was most
room there, but a few moments afterwards the man whom Foster suspected
of watching him left his place. Crossing the floor carelessly, but in
such a way that a pillar hid his approach, he sat down near the other
two. Foster admitted that he might not have remarked this had he not
been suspicious and keenly watchful. The thing looked significant,
particularly when a waitress came across, frowning, with some dishes.
The man must have had an object for changing his place after he had
given his order, because in the small Canadian towns waitresses deal
firmly with troublesome customers.
Telford did not seem to know the stranger and did not speak until the
man politely handed him a cruet-stand. He did not say much after this,
but Foster could not see him without leaning forward, because some
other people sat down between. Still he felt a puzzling curiosity
about the fellow, and after supper went to the rotunda where the man
presently sat down not far off. He was young and vigorous, but walked
with a slight limp as if one knee was stiff. His eyes were dark and he
had a rather engaging smile when one of the rest offered him a
newspaper. Telford was not about, but the other man strolled in.
Foster's curiosity got stronger. He could not remember having met the
man he was studying, but had a vague feeling that he ought to know him.
The strange thing was that he had not expected him to limp, but this
was perhaps accounted for by his athletic figure. After a time, the
fellow put down the newspaper and went off towards the bar, while
Foster, who found he had run out of tobacco, went to his room.
When he got out of the elevator, he saw the other going along a passage
in front, which he thought curious, because he could not have stayed
more than a few moments in the bar. Moreover his limp was not
noticeable now he imagined himself alone. Foster went on quietly,
keeping his distance, and knitted his brows in thoughtful surprise when
the other opened a door. The man, who did not seem to know Telford,
had gone into his room.
When the door shut he heard another step and saw, as he had
half-expected, the man who had watched Telford entering the passage,
Foster immediately turned his head and went on to his room, where he
sat down in the nearest chair. He had got something of a shock, since
he now knew why he had studied the fellow with the limp. His brain had
been unconsciously occupied with a description Lucy Stephen had given
him. The man who had gone into Telford's room was Walters.