Three days afterwards, Foster entered the office of the Hulton Company,
where the head and treasurer of the firm waited him. It was late in
the evening when he arrived, but the private office was filled with the
softened throb of machinery and rumble of heavy wheels. Otherwise it
was very quiet and cut off by a long passage from the activity of the
mill.
Hulton gave him his hand and indicated a chair. "You have got thinner
since you took your holiday and look fined down. Well, I reckon we all
feel older since that night last fall."
"I do," said Foster, and added: "The mill seems to be running hard."
"She's going full blast. We've had plans for extension standing over
until I could give my mind to them. I may be able to do so soon, and
expect to consult you and Featherstone. In the meantime, I got your
telegram and another that to some extent put me wise. But I want a
full account, beginning when you left."
Foster told his story, and when he stopped, Hulton pondered for a
minute or two. He somehow looked more human than on Foster's last
visit; his stern vindictiveness was not so obvious, but Foster thought
he would demand full retribution. Then he said--
"You are keeping something back; I reckon you haven't taken these
chances on my account. There's something behind all this that concerns
you--or your partner--alone. Well, I guess that's not my business."
He paused and resumed in a curt, businesslike manner: "Daly's tale is
plausible and may be true, but I have my doubts. Anyhow, I'm not going
to believe it because that doesn't suit my plans. We'll have Walters
tried for murder."
"Although you admit he may be innocent!" exclaimed Foster. "It ought
to be enough to charge him with trying to kill Featherstone and
stealing your bonds. You have no evidence to convict him of the other
crime."
Hulton smiled. "I don't care two bits if he's convicted or not. I
want to clear my boy's name and put you into the witness-box."
"But you can't make me adapt my story to fit your charge, and the
defending lawyer would object to Daly's account as hearsay and not
evidence. The judge would rule it out."
"I guess so," Hulton agreed. "For all that, it would have some effect,
and the judge couldn't rule it out before it was heard." He knitted
his brows and looked hard at Foster. "I'm going to prove that Fred was
robbed and was not the thief, and though I don't think Walters will be
convicted, he must take his chance. He was one of the gang that caused
my son's death, and when he tried to kill your partner knew what he was
up against."
Foster thought this was frontier justice and urged another objection.
"After all, the matter's in the hands of the police. You can't dictate
the line they ought to take."
Percival, the treasurer, smiled, and Hulton answered with some dryness:
"That's true, in a way. But I have some influence, which will be used
for all it's worth. Anyhow, I've got to be consulted. If it hadn't
been for my agents, the police wouldn't have made much progress yet.
However, we'll let this go. It may interest you to know that Daly's
gone for good. Read him the night letter, Percival."
It is usual in Canada to allow lengthy telegrams, called night letters,
to be sent at a very moderate charge when the lines are disengaged
after business hours, and the treasurer picked up a form. The message
related the careful search for Daly's body, which had not been found.
The snow for some distance on both sides of the river was undisturbed;
there was no sign that an injured man had crawled away, and if this
were not enough, no stranger had reached any of the scattered ranches
where he must have gone for food. Daly would not be found until the
ice broke up.
"I expect you're glad the fellow can't be brought to trial," Hulton
remarked, looking hard at Foster.
"I am," said Foster quietly.
Hulton made a sign of understanding and there was faint amusement in
his eyes.
"Well, you have a good partner. I like Featherstone; he's a live,
straight man, and if he had trouble in England, has made good here.
But he has his limits; I reckon you'll go further than he will."
"No," said Foster. "I don't think you're right, but if you are, I'll
take my partner along with me, or stay behind with him."
"What are you going to do now?" Percival asked.
"Stop at the Crossing and see about starting the mill."
Hulton nodded. "I guess that's the best thing. When you have got her
started, come and see what we want. I think that's all in the
meantime."
Foster left them and began work next day. He wrote to Lawrence telling
him of his plans, but got no answer for a week, when a telegram arrived.
"Come out if you can leave the mill. You're wanted here," it ran.
Foster was puzzled, because he thought the summons would have come from
Lucy if Lawrence was ill. Yet the latter knew he was occupied and
ought not have sent for him unless he was needed. On the whole, he
felt annoyed. Lawrence, who was sometimes careless, should have told
him why he was required, and he could not conveniently leave the mill.
Since he had found his partner, he had realized how wide, in a social
sense, was the difference between Alice Featherstone and a small
Canadian lumber dealer, and had, with characteristic determination,
resolved to bridge the gap. This meant bold planning and strenuous
effort, but he shrank from neither and meant his partner to help.
Lawrence, although resolute enough when things went against them,
sometimes got slack when they were going well, and Foster understood
that Lucy Stephen had money. For all that, if Lawrence was unwilling
to keep pace with him, he must be dragged. Foster frowned as he put
off matters that needed prompt attention until his return, and then
sent a telegram and caught the next west-bound train.
When he got down at the flag station his annoyance returned. If there
was any ground for his being sent for, he ought to have been told, and
if there was not, he had been caused a loss of time that could have
been well employed. He resolved to tell Lawrence his views upon this
as he took the road to the hotel, but stopped with a beating heart when
he entered the veranda.
Lawrence lounged negligently in a big chair and greeted him with a
smile, but his father, Mrs. Featherstone, and Alice sat close by, with
Mrs. Stephen and Lucy in the background. It cost Foster something of
an effort to preserve his calm, but he advanced to Mrs. Featherstone,
who gave him a look of quiet gratitude that repaid him for much.
Featherstone welcomed him heartily, but with a touch of embarrassment,
and then Foster thrilled as Alice gave him her hand. There was a
curious quiet confidence in her level glance, as if she meant that she
had known his promise would be kept. He did not remember what he said
to Mrs. Stephen and Lucy, but was grateful to Lawrence, who laughed.
"I imagined you'd get something of a surprise, Jake. In fact, when the
train stopped I pictured you coming up the road as fast as you could,
divided between anxiety and a determination to tell me what you
thought. Before that, when I got your curt telegram, I told Alice I
could see you frowning as you filled up the form."
"I didn't know Miss Featherstone was here," Foster replied awkwardly.
"That's obvious," Lawrence said, chuckling. "Candor's one of your
virtues. But what about the rest of us?"
Foster wished he had been more tactful and thought his comrade's
amusement might better have been restrained; but Lawrence resumed: "It
must have been annoying to leave the mill when you had much to do. The
curious thing is that when you set off from the Crossing with me you
declared you were tired of working for dollars."
"Mr. Foster's tiredness didn't prevent him from working for his
friends," Alice interposed.
"He must work, anyhow; that's the kind of man he is, and I don't
suppose he was much disappointed when he got a strenuous holiday."
Then Featherstone turned to Foster. "I imagine we both dislike formal
speeches and Lawrence, knowing this, means to smooth over our meeting.
For all that, there's something to be said, and now, when the others
are here, is the proper time. When we got your telegram in England I
was overwhelmed by gratitude and regret. I saw, in fact, what a fool I
had been." He paused with a gleam of amusement in his embarrassment.
"Indeed, I'm not sure that the recognition of my folly wasn't the
stronger feeling. Now I'm half-ashamed to apologize for my ridiculous
suspicions and must ask you to forget all about them if you can."
"They were very natural suspicions, sir. I couldn't logically blame
you and honestly don't think I did."
"Well," said Featherstone, "it's some comfort to reflect that my wife
and daughter knew you better. I'm glad to think you're generous,
because there is no amend I can make commensurate with the service you
have done us."
"In one sense, it was an excellent joke," Lawrence remarked. "While
Jake was lurking in the bogs and putting up with much unpleasantness on
my account, he was suspected of making away with me for the sake of an
old traveling bag, which was all he could have got. But don't you
think, sir, there was something characteristic about his telegram? I
mean the brief statement of his success."
"My relief was so great that I did not criticize the wording, which I'm
not sure I remember," Featherstone replied.