When Foster was thinking of going to bed Pete, whom he had not seen all
day, came into the rotunda, and Foster remarked that his boots were
very wet.
"It's saft ootside an' I've been paidlin' in the snow," he said and,
with the poacher's instinctive caution, put his feet out of sight
beneath a table.
"Where have you been in the dark?" Foster asked.
"I thought I'd maybe better watch the bridge over yon bit creek."
Foster frowned. It looked as if he had not much talent for detective
work and could only concentrate upon one point at a time. While he had
been content to watch what was going on at the hotel, Pete had watched
the bridge, and had found out something. Foster admitted that such
success as he had had was rather due to luck than ability.
"Well," he said, "what did you see there?"
"To begin with, the man we followed cam' doon the street and went into
a shop; and I allooed they might keep something I wanted. He bought a
basket."
"A basket?"
"Just that," said Pete. "One o' they cheap baskets ye put grosseries
in when ye gang by train."
Foster nodded. On Canadian railways, economical second-class
passengers often carry provisions instead of using the meal stations.
"He bought some tinned meat and biscuits," Pete resumed. "Then some
tea and a wee spirit-stove."
"There's no train until to-morrow and I imagine the fellow wouldn't be
satisfied with canned meat, so long as he could get something better
when the cars stopped."
Pete grinned. "I'm no' saying he meant to tak' the train. It looked
mair like he was going to picnic in the woods."
"Ah!" said Foster abruptly. "I suppose you followed the man?"
"Far enough to see him tak' the road we went. Then I cam' back. Ye
see, I kent where he was going."
Foster made a sign of agreement, because it was obvious that Telford
was going to the shack at the mine. He understood how the fellow had
got out without his seeing him, since it is usual in Canada to have a
separate entrance to a hotel bar and he had stupidly been satisfied
with watching the hall.
"He has gone to meet somebody; but why did he take the provisions?"
"Maybe he wanted to give them to the ither man."
"But why should the other need the food?"
"Weel," said Pete, "if I was looking for a hidie-hole convenient to the
town, I'd no' find much fault with yon' auld mine. Maybe it's dry, an'
the frost wouldna' get far in."
Foster started, for he thought Pete had guessed right. He and Lawrence
had camped in the open in colder weather than was often felt in British
Columbia, and as wood was plentiful, there was no reason the man should
not make a fire after dark, if he could find an outlet for the smoke.
He must now find out who was hiding in the mine, but thought he knew,
for vague suspicions suddenly got clear.
To begin with, the fellow who watched Telford at the hotel was either a
policeman or a private detective in Hulton's pay. Then Foster had lost
Daly's track at Banff, which was not very far off, and taking it for
granted that Telford belonged to the gang, it was logical to suppose
that he had arranged a meeting with Daly and Walters. On arrival Daly
had found that the town was watched, but was either unable to leave it
without being followed or detained by his business with the others. In
consequence, he had taken refuge in the mine.
Foster sent Pete away and smoked another pipe. He would have liked to
visit the mine at once, but if he went, would meet Telford coming back
or find him when he reached the spot, and he must see Daly alone. He
ought, of course, to warn the man he thought a detective, but did not
mean to do so, and this resolve brought up a problem he had tried to
solve before: what could he offer Daly in return for his keeping
Lawrence's secret?
If the fellow had killed Fred Hulton, it was unthinkable that he should
help him to escape. Foster felt that he had perhaps, in a sense,
already become Daly's accomplice, but meant to save his comrade and
keep his promise to Alice. He would see Daly in the morning and decide
then what line to take; after all, luck might help him again. Then he
knocked out his pipe and went to bed.
After breakfast next morning he called for Pete and walked carelessly
to the main bridge. He, however, took his pistol and when they reached
the woods Pete cut a heavy stick. Foster did not expect to use force,
but it was better to be prepared. While Pete was trimming his cudgel
they heard the heavy snorting of a locomotive and a plume of smoke
moved across the town. Then they saw through an opening in the trees
the cars roll along the mountain side. The Montreal express had
stopped on its journey east, but Foster was preoccupied and thought
nothing of this.
The snow was very soft when they plodded up the path among the trees,
but it was not far to the clearing, and Foster stopped at its edge. He
had met nobody, and the woods were silent except for the dying roar of
the train, which came faintly down the valley. There was no smoke, but
Daly would put out his fire when it got light. Crossing the wet snow
noiselessly, he made for the shack and when he reached it beckoned to
Pete.
"Stay here for about ten minutes, and then if I'm not back, you had
better come in," he said. "If anybody runs out, don't let him pass."
Pete's nod showed he understood and Foster, moving forward quietly,
stopped again for a moment at the mouth of the adit. Pete had
vanished, but could be trusted to watch the mine as a terrier watches a
rat-hole, and Foster knew that if he were attacked and overcome his
assailant would not escape. A gray sky hung over the black tops of the
firs and the wet snow threw up a curious livid light. It was an
unpleasant raw morning, and Foster felt half daunted.
The adit was dark; he was embarking on a rash adventure, and wondered
with some misgivings what would happen before he came out again. He
heard nothing, and it was rather curious that he could not smell smoke,
but bracing himself he stooped and crept into the dark hole.
The floor sloped, following the inclination of the strata, and seemed
to be strewn with fallen stones, but he had put on rubber shoes and
made very little noise. He did not want to warn Daly that his
hiding-place had been discovered, until he was near enough to explain
that he had nothing to do with the police. There would not be much
danger when the fellow knew who he was and that the mine was watched,
but he wanted to get as close as possible before alarming him. Daly,
no doubt, carried a pistol.
Stopping for a moment, he raised his head incautiously and smothered an
exclamation when he struck it against the roof. He could hear water
dripping somewhere below and the slope felt steep. It was nervous work
creeping down hill in the dark, and there was, perhaps, a risk of his
falling into a pit. When he dislodged a stone that rattled he held his
breath as he listened. He heard nothing, and set his lips as he
overcame an impulse to turn back. If Daly had heard the stone, he was
probably waiting for him with his finger on the trigger.
For all that, Foster went on, feeling for the rough wall, until he
struck his foot against a big stone and losing his balance staggered
and fell. He made a noise that echoed through the adit and, worse than
all, the pistol shot out of his hand. He felt for but could not find
it, and for a few moments lay still with tingling nerves. Daly must
have heard him and was, no doubt, crouching in the dark, ready to
shoot. He tried again to find the pistol, and then with an effort
pulled himself together. The next move might draw a shot, but he must
risk that and not lie there helpless. Besides, if the fellow missed,
he might grapple with and disarm him, and he sprang to his feet.
"Daly!" he called in a voice that he meant to be careless but was
rather hoarse. "It's Foster. I want to talk about Featherstone."
There was no reply. He heard water falling into a pool, but except for
this the mine was strangely silent, and after waiting for a moment he
drew back against the rock.
"Pete!" he shouted.
His voice sounded muffled and he wondered whether Pete could hear, but
tried to fix his attention on the dark in front. It was there that
danger might lurk. Then he heard Pete stumbling among the stones, and
presently the man came up, panting with haste.
"Where's the lamp?" Foster asked.
He knew he was going to do a dangerous thing if Daly was hiding near,
but something must be risked and he struck a match. It sputtered,
throwing an illusive gleam on the wet rock a yard or two in front, and
then went out. Foster struck another with a hoarse exclamation and
touched the wick of a small, flat, metal lamp, such as Western miners
hook on their hats. Candles are not common in Canadian towns where
water-power makes electric lighting cheap. The lamp gave a dim smoky
light, and when Foster picked up his pistol they waited a few moments,
looking eagerly in front.
A trickle of water fell from a crack in the roof and running down the
floor of the adit vanished into the gloom. Here and there a ragged
projection caught the light, but the rest of the tunnel was hidden in
impenetrable darkness. They went on cautiously, though Foster now felt
anxious because there was no sign of Daly. After a minute or two, the
light fell on a wall of dry rock with a pool at the bottom, and he knew
they had reached the end of the adit. Next moment he saw there was an
opening to one side where some ore had been taken out. If Daly was in
the mine, he was there, and warning Pete with a sign, he turned the
comer.
The light showed a small, dry chamber, strewn with sharp stones, some
of which had been put together to make a hearth. Between these lay the
ashes of a fire; bits of food were scattered about, and a blue Hudson's
Bay blanket lay in a corner. Except for this, the chamber was empty.
Foster savagely clenched his fist while Pete stirred the ashes and felt
the blanket.
"It's dry an' the reek o' a cigar is fresh on it," he said. "Yon
fire's no' been oot lang. I'm thinking it's a pity we didna' come last
night."
Foster sat down and looked about. He was getting calm, but felt dull
with disappointment. For all that, he saw why the mine had been
abandoned. There was a fault in the strata, where the vein had slipped
down, but the subsidence had cracked the rock above and he imagined
that the fissure reached the surface. The air was fresh and not very
cold; there was water close by, and Foster saw no reason why Daly
should not have found the chamber a comfortable hiding-place. Yet he
had left it.
"Can you see the basket you talked about?" he asked, giving Pete the
lamp.
Pete found it behind some stones and they examined it together.
"Here's the spirit-stove, some bread, and the can of meat," said
Foster. "But I see no biscuits. Can he have eaten them?"
"There were ower mony. He's ta'en them with him."
"Well," said Foster thoughtfully, "I don't see why the other fellow
brought him provisions he didn't need."
"Maybe something happened since he brought the basket," Pete suggested.
Foster pondered. It was possible that something had happened at the
hotel after Telford's visit that had altered the accomplices' plans, or
made it easier for Daly to get away; but, if this were so, Telford must
have gone back to the mine. He might have done so, but Foster thought
Daly had perhaps not taken his confederate altogether into his
confidence and had changed his plans without warning him. Foster could
not tell what chance the fellow had of stealing away, but as he had
left the basket and only taken some biscuits, it looked as if he did
not expect to go very far on foot.
"We'll get out and try to find which way he's gone," he said.
It was a relief to reach the open air, and they carefully studied the
sloppy snow. Foster knew something about tracking elk and moose, and
Pete had a poacher's skill, but the rapid thaw had blurred the
footprints they found. On the whole, however, Pete imagined that
Telford had returned to the mine since his visit on the previous
evening.
Then they searched about the foot of the rocks and presently found
marks that showed where somebody had climbed. Getting up, they
followed the marks to a beaten trail that ran along the hillside from
the town to a neighboring mine. There was nothing to be learned here
and Foster went back dejectedly to the hotel. Dinner was being served
when he arrived, but he did not see Walters and felt annoyed when
Telford stopped him as he was coming out.
"I haven't seen you since last night and thought we might have had a
game," he said. "Where have you been all morning?"
"I didn't come here to play pool," Foster replied. "There was
something I had to see about."
"Then I hope you found business pretty good," Telford remarked with a
quiet smile that Foster found disturbing.
He thought the fellow would see him if he went to the clerk's office,
and beckoning the bell-boy into a passage gave him a coin.
"Do you know if the lame gentleman with the dark hair is out?" he asked,
"He's certainly out. Left on the Montreal express this morning."
"You're quite sure of that?"
"Yep," said the lad. "I put his baggage in the transfer wagon for the
depot."
Foster went to the rotunda and sat down to smoke. He felt savage, for
there was no doubt that he had muddled things. Daly had again escaped
him, but he thought he saw what Walters' visit meant. Three of the
gang had met to make some plot, which might threaten Lawrence, whom
they no doubt thought dangerous. It was ominous that Walters had gone
east. Daly was obviously afraid of arrest, but the others seemed to
think themselves safe and Telford was stopping at the hotel, although
it looked as if he were being watched. Foster wondered whether the
fellow suspected this.
Another matter demanded consideration. News of what he had done in
Newcastle had probably reached the gang, and he had a check belonging
to a member of it in his wallet. If they knew this, which was
possible, he might be in some danger, and taking it for granted that
the watcher was a detective or acting for Hulton, it would simplify
things and free him from a grave responsibility if he told what he
knew. For all that, he did not mean to do so. His object was to save
his comrade's name.
In the afternoon he played pool with Telford, who carelessly asked him
a few clever questions, which Foster answered with a misleading
frankness that he hoped would put the other off the track. In the
evening he read the newspapers and tried to overcome a growing anxiety
about Lawrence. He ought to follow Daly, but did not know where he had
gone, and thought that if he waited Telford might give him a clew.
There were no letters for him next morning, but soon after breakfast
the bell-boy brought him a telegram and he tore open the envelope. The
message was from Lucy Stephen and read:
"Mountaineering friend just arrived. Snow dangerous now. Would feel
safer if you could join us. Come if possible."
For a moment or two Foster sat still, with his face set. Lucy was
guarded, but the mountaineering friend was Walters and she had given
him an urgent hint that he was needed. Then he picked up a railroad
folder that lay near and noting the time of Walters' arrival, saw that
the telegram had been delayed. After this he glanced at his watch and
ran out into the street.
A trail of black smoke moved across the roofs and he heard the roll of
wheels as the heavy train climbed the incline. He had got Lucy's
warning ten minutes too late, and could not leave until next day.