DOUBLE TROUBLE
Inwardly raging, Kendrick crept about, making anxious inventory of
their hurts.
There was little use in voicing his amazement that they had been fired
upon with unmistakable intent to do bodily harm--and for such trivial
cause. He had not dreamed that any gang of men would dare to carry out
such an attack in Northern Ontario in these days of established law and
order. These were not pioneer times and a dangerous situation like
this in which they found themselves was out of place except in a moving
picture. One could look for anything to happen in the photo plays
which staged bloody scenes in a corner of a city park, called it "the
Canadian wilds" and shot at least one man every thousand feet of film.
But here in Northern Ontario, a few miles from the luxurious
trans-continental passenger trains _de luxe_--! Scum and all as these
fellows were, they would not dare do this unless they were crazy with
liquor.
There was ample proof that they were drunk enough for anything and in
the face of the real danger of the situation nothing was to be gained
by recriminations. It was through no fault of McIvor or his men that
their bullets had not caused serious wounds or several fatalities.
Phil was thankful to find that his little party had escaped. Their
clothes were badly torn, of course, and all of them bore various
scratches and bruises from contact with the forest undergrowth in the
dark; but beyond the gash on Svenson's head and another on Phil's
shoulder where a bullet had torn through his sleeve, they had escaped
for the time being.
He found Cristy Lawson and young Jimmy Stiles in a nook behind the
rocks, exchanging confidences with breathless interest. She had
lighted a small candle and stuck it up in a recess where its feeble
rays were hidden from outside view. She had brought along a canvas
haversack into which she had thrust a number of things she had thought
might be useful in an emergency, including sewing materials, a bottle
of Mrs. Thorlakson's special liniment and a package of sandwiches. The
latter she had opened and Stiles had been munching away while she told
him all that had taken place since she left Toronto--nearly all, that
is. But it was Stiles who was talking when Phil joined them--talking
so rapidly and excitedly that he was almost incoherent. At sight of
Kendrick he stopped abruptly and when the girl turned, Kendrick noted
that she was scarcely less agitated.
"Jimmy has something to say that you should know at once," she
explained hurriedly, averting her gaze. She seemed very much upset.
He hastened away to post McCorquodale and Svenson to watch for further
demonstrations from the enemy. There was no sign of any intention on
the part of Red McIvor's men to assault the impregnable position. The
whole gang seemed to have drawn off, for the present at least, and it
would be impossible for any of them to creep up the hill without giving
ample warning of their approach. So, cautioning both to keep their
ears open and to call him at the first sign of further trouble, he
slipped back to hear what Stiles had to say.
The story of the bookkeeper's strange experience was so absorbing that
it was not long before both his auditors completely forgot their
surroundings. The gang of toughs in the camp below were running a
consignment of cheap whisky and rum into the north country for
distribution among the camps and various unscrupulous traders who would
supply it to lumberjacks, trappers, construction gangs and even Indians
in due season. This Red McIvor was a notorious character who was known
in many an out-of-the-way corner of the North for the boldness of his
operations and his defiance of the law.
But is [Transcriber's note: it?] was not just chance that had brought
him into this part of the country on his present expedition. It was
the money hidden in the stump. McIvor was open for any sideline in
dishonesty that gave promise of lucrative returns and his agent,
Weiler, had been very busy in Toronto recently. Somebody had tipped J.
C. Nickleby as to Podmore's underhand activities--Ferguson, the
lawyer, Stiles thought; but was not sure--and Podmore had been watched
closely and followed when he started West. Word had been passed to Red
McIvor, who had lost no time in getting on the trail of this
fifty-thousand-dollar pick-me-up, with the result that he had reached
out a hairy arm, twisted his fingers in Mr. Podmore's coat-collar and
calmly dispossessed him of the sealed envelope which he had recovered
from the stump. The chase which had ended thus had not been prolonged,
as the city man had been no match for the experienced woodsman in the
latter's own environment.
When McIvor found that all he had for his efforts was a package of
worthless stage money he was furious. He at once concluded that
Podmore had tricked him and had hidden the real money. He trusted his
eastern agent implicitly and neither Podmore's own blank surprise when
the envelope was opened or his most desperate protestations could
change McIvor's idea of the situation. Knowing the truth of the
matter, Stiles had tried to save Podmore from the rough punishment
meted out to him at McIvor's camp, but his net return for his efforts
was abuse; he dare not reveal too close a connection with the envelope
as his own position already was too precarious.
On the night following his luncheon with Kendrick Stiles had gone back
to the office to finish some work. He was in the habit of working on
the books at night occasionally. He had no sooner let himself in than
he became aware of a heated discussion that was going on behind the
ground-glass partition which separated Alderson's private office from
the general office. One voice was Nickleby's; the other he did not
recognize, but from the tenor of the remarks he felt sure that what was
going on was of vital interest to his friends. Instead of turning on
the light, therefore, he had crept close to the partition.
He soon knew that the man alone with Nickleby in that office was
Harrington Rives, late of the penitentiary, and that Rives had known
Nickleby in the past. In fact, Rives was calmly advising Nickleby to
remember that the police had long memories, and that away down south in
the States was a certain institution which would be glad at any time to
welcome home a prodigal no matter how often he changed his name. After
this remark Nickleby had cooled down very quickly, as if realizing that
he was in Rives' power, and it was apparent to the eager youth in the
outer office that the pair understood each other thoroughly. Judging
by the clinking of glass and a certain recklessness of speech, both
were drawing heavily upon Alderson's stock of liquid "office supplies."
Stiles had become so excited over his discovery that for the moment he
had forgotten the danger of his own position. Accidentally he knocked
his knee against the partition and the first thing he knew Nickleby and
Rives came into the outer office on the run. They caught him just as
he had reached the door.
When they realized that he had overheard their conversation his life
had been in danger for an instant; for Nickleby was in a white-hot
passion and would have choked him. But the ex-politician took the
situation very coolly and dragged Nickleby loose somewhat roughly.
There was no use in getting excited, he had advised calmly; there were
other ways of taking care of this young man. Whereupon they had shut
him inside the vault while they discussed the matter of his discreet
disposal.
It was perhaps half an hour later that a closed cab had driven up the
lane at the rear of the building. Two men were inside the vehicle,
waiting for him. It was too dark for him to get a good look at them
just then. They lost no time in tying a pocket-handkerchief around his
ankles and blindfolding him with another. Rives and Nickleby remained
behind at the office. Jimmy knew that his two custodians were "tough,"
if their talk and manner meant anything, and whenever he tried to speak
to them they told him to "shut up or we'll knock your block off,"
following up the threat with sundry kicks and blows.
"There's your melodrama for you, Mr. Kendrick," Cristy could not resist
interpolating, "closed cab and all."
They left the city and drove for most of the night along country roads.
About dawn they reached their destination and when the bandage was
removed Stiles found himself in an empty room that was so dusty and
musty he came to the conclusion it was an empty house on some little
travelled side road. As soon as it grew light enough to take an
inventory of his surroundings Stiles went to the window, but could see
nothing except hills, valleys and bushland. Not a single habitation
was in sight. He found out later that the place was down near
Stockton, somewhere back in Clam Creek Valley, many miles from the
city; it was from the Stockton station that they afterwards boarded the
train.
Food was brought in to him regularly three or four times by a toothless
old woman who refused to talk. They watched him too closely for any
attempt at escape, one of his guards remaining in the room all day.
The next night he heard voices and a general stirring about the place
and before long he knew that Rives had arrived. He came into the room
with the two men who had ridden in the cab and they tried to make
Stiles tell what he knew about the missing campaign fund money. It had
been a bad half hour that followed; but at last they decided that he
really knew nothing about the matter.
Rives had sent the other two out of the room then and had adopted a
less truculent manner. He told Stiles that he had no desire to do him
any injury and that no harm would befall him if he did exactly as he
was told. It was necessary that Jimmy disappear completely for a
while, and accordingly they had arranged for him to take a little
holiday trip into Northern Ontario with the two "boys" who had ridden
with him the night before. If he agreed to go with them and to make no
attempt to escape or create a disturbance he would be treated with
every consideration. There was no reason, Rives said, why the trip
would not prove a genuine holiday jaunt; there would be canoeing,
fishing, camping out, plenty to eat and so on and he would be back
after a while with a fine coat of tan and, if he behaved himself, money
in his pocket.
With his voice dropped suddenly to a strictly confidential tone, Rives
had then informed Jimmy that the missing campaign fund money had been
located--at a place called Thorlakson, west on the C.L.S. railway,
hidden in a certain stump beside a water-tank. Very carefully he led
up to the proposal that Stiles should attempt to secure this money
without the knowledge of his camp-mates. It was then that Jimmy had
learned from Rives about Red McIvor and the logging-camp where the
party was to gather; that the station at which they would leave the
train was called Indian Creek, and that it was the next station beyond
Thorlakson--just a few miles away. Rives said that both Red McIvor and
a man named Podmore were after the money and he was afraid that if they
secured it they would steal it whereas he, Rives, was anxious to
restore it to the rightful owner. If Jimmy would help him to do this,
get the money and turn it over to him, he would see that he was
suitably rewarded. If Jimmy refused to fall in with the plan outlined,
the alternative was a jail sentence; for it had been only with great
difficulty that he had persuaded Nickleby to refrain from putting
Stiles in jail on a charge of theft.
Jimmy had pretended to be duly impressed and grateful to Rives. He had
agreed promptly to the proposal. The situation suddenly had become so
ludicrous that he had experienced great difficulty in maintaining the
proper solemnity. The opportunity of getting to Thorlakson where he
could report his discoveries to Miss Lawson was the thing he most
desired.
But he had failed to reckon the possibility that he would be unable to
escape. It had seemed to be an easy thing to give his two companions
the slip; but when they detrained at Indian Creek he had been inveigled
into assisting with the unloading of the canoes, and on his first trip
to the creek a short distance from the station, he had found himself
forced into the Indian guide's canoe and carried beyond reach of help.
He had planned then to escape after they reached the abandoned logging
camp, steal a canoe and come back to the railway line and down to
Thorlakson on a handcar or a freight train. But again he had not
reckoned on the number of men with whom he would have to deal at the
camp. McIvor's party proper consisted only of three men beside
himself; but the half-breeds and others who had been invited for a
spree began to straggle in till escape became almost impossible. They
caught him the first time he tried it and after that he had been
guarded more closely. It was plain to him that Nickleby, knowing of
this McIvor expedition, had paid McIvor's agent to carry him into the
heart of the wilderness with them and to keep him away from
civilization.
In the light of this recital of the facts the presence of Jimmy Stiles
was no longer an unbelievable coincidence, but a logical outcome.
Nickleby, having made a dicker with McIvor's man to recover the money
from the stump before Podmore could get it, had attempted to kill two
birds with one stone by having McIvor take Stiles with him on his
expedition beyond the outposts of civilization. In doing that Nickleby
had no means of knowing that he was defeating his own ends by putting
Stiles within reach of friends.
The end of the narrative found Kendrick full of eager questions. The
definite knowledge that Nickleby had a police record, that Rives knew
this and had looked him up on the strength of it, that the two had
their heads together--all this boded no good, as Phil saw it.
Nathaniel Lawson and Benjamin Wade apparently had been justified in
their worst suspicions of Nickleby. Kendrick asked Stiles for further
details of the conversation he had overheard between Nickleby and
Rives. Had he been able to catch all that was said? Was there any
indication that the two were planning further mischief?
"They dropped their voices pretty low once or twice," replied Jimmy
with some hesitation, "but I got the most of it." He looked across at
Cristy Lawson and cleared his throat in such evident embarrassment that
Phil glanced quickly at the girl.
"What is it, Miss Lawson, please? You and Jimmy are keeping something
back. Why? Is there something you think I ought not to know?"
She looked up at that and he was surprised at the diffidence reflected
in her manner.
"It isn't that it is anything you should not know," she said with an
effort to choose her words carefully. "On the contrary, you should
know it. But it is never pleasant to be the bearer of--bad news."
"'Nothing is ever so bad that it might not be worse,'" he quoted,
endeavoring to cover his anxiety by a smile. "What is it, please?"
"It is about your uncle, Mr. Kendrick." She turned to face him
squarely and spoke rapidly. "We have undeniable proof that the
Honorable Milton Waring is in collusion with Nickleby--and,
incidentally, Rives--and they are planning to misuse the funds of the
Interprovincial Loan & Savings Company. They are meeting about
midnight on the twenty-seventh at your uncle's house--over on the
Island--to close a deal which involves control of Interprovincial
stock. Nickleby has agreed to dispose of his holdings and those of his
clique at grossly inflated prices and to provide the money for the
purchase by a large loan with very inadequate collateral security. In
plain language it is a huge steal which may mean, possibly, that the
loan company will have to close its doors."