Two days later, into the trading room of the Hudson's Bay Company's
post on God's Lake, burst Orcutt, white of face, shaken of nerves, and
with his disheveled garments bespeaking a frenzied dash through the
timber.
"What's the meaning of this?" he cried, holding out a telegram.
McNabb reached for the message and read it. "It means just what it
says," he answered. "Cameron has stated it plain."
"But where is Cameron? Where is the three hundred and fifty thousand I
paid him? Where is Wentworth?"
"Cameron is not here. He left after turning over your money to
Wentworth. He said he held a paper that constituted Wentworth your
legal representative."
"But--where is Wentworth?" gasped Orcutt.
"He left the night he got the money--a week ago to-night, wasn't it,
Dugald?"
"Good God!" The words were a groan. "I'm ruined. Ruined, I tell you!
There's just one chance. John, the material that's on your mill site.
Will you take it over?"
"Sure, I'll take it," answered McNabb. "On the same terms you offered
for my tote-road. Ten cents on the dollar, wasn't it, Orcutt?"
"But, man, you don't understand!"
"I understand that the shoe is on the other foot," answered McNabb,
coldly. "Listen to me, Orcutt; by your own admission you've been
trying for more than twenty years to ruin me. I've let you go, never
turning out of my way to injure you. I'm not turning out of my way
now. If you're squeezed it is because of your own deeds--not mine."
"Squeezed!" sobbed the banker hysterically. "I'm ruined! It means the
bank--my home--everything! It means--more. I was so sure--I--I'm into
the bank's money for thousands! It means--the penitentiary!"
McNabb looked at the cringing man, whose knees seemed to sag beneath
the weight of his woe. Coldly his eyes traveled the length of him:
"Maybe ye're right," he said, and his words cut icy cold. Then,
deliberately he turned his back upon the man and strode through the
door.
Upon that same day, also came Corporal Downey, of the Royal North West
Mounted Police, and in his custody he held a man. The man was the
half-breed Alex Thumb.
"We've got the goods on him this time," Downey told the factor. "And a
damned peculiar case. I picked him up a few miles south of the lake.
I heard a shot, and an hour later I located him and crept up through
the brush. He had just finished burying Wentworth's body all but the
heart--that was dryin' on a little stick beside the fire. There was an
empty shell in his rifle. But--what I can't make out is this." He
paused and withdrew from his pocket a small tin box, and opening it,
disclosed a handful of ashes and the half of a United States gold
certificate for ten thousand dollars. "He was holdin' it over a little
fire," explained the officer. "I located him by the smoke smell. I
covered him, and he dropped this last fragment to throw up his hands.
It's money. I didn't know they made 'em so big. But why in hell
should he burn it?"
Murchison examined the fragment with its burned edge. "Alex Thumb was
canny," he muttered. "The bills was too big. He didn't dare to spend
'em."