The Hound From The North Part 40

"You've put me off so often, Mr. Malling. It's not business, and you know it," he replied gutturally. "Will you give me an order on--your crop?"

He looked squarely into the other's face. Hervey hesitated. He knew that he could not do this, and yet he was sorely pressed for money.

However, he made up his mind to take the risk. He thought his mother would not go back on him.

"Very well."

He turned as the bell-boy approached.

"Telegram for you, sir; 'expressed.'"

Hervey took the envelope and tore it open. He read his sister's message, and a world of relief and triumph lit up his face.

"Good," he muttered. Then he pa.s.sed it to his companion. "Read that.

Do you still need a mortgage? I shall set out to-night."

The hotel proprietor read the message, and a satisfied smile spread over his face. It did not do for him to press his customers too hard.

But still he was a business man. He, too, felt relieved.

"This relates to----?"

"An ouylying farm of mine which I have now sold."

"Your promise will be sufficient, Mr. Malling. I thought we should find an amicable settlement for our difficulty. You start to-night?"

"Yes."

CHAPTER XIX

THE AVENGER

Alice was standing at the gate of the little front garden. She was talking to her lover, who had just ridden up from the direction of Owl Hoot. Robb had not dismounted, and his face was very serious as he leant down towards her.

"And I never knew a word about it. It's a jolly good thing I obtained the delivery of his bunch of cattle when I did, or goodness knows what would have happened. Well, anyhow I've lost a nice lump. My client, when he heard about the place being for sale, wanted to buy it for a back country for his beeves to winter in. Just my confounded luck. I knew there was a big fire out this way, but I never thought that Iredale was the unfortunate victim. Now I've got to go over to Lakeville to see him--he's staying there, you know, since he was burnt out. I'll come back this way, and if Mrs Malling can put me up for the night, I'll be grateful. My 'plug' won't stand the journey back home.

You say Hervey will be along this evening?"

"Yes," replied the girl Then seriously, "What are you going to do?"

"Interview him. There are things about that dog that want explaining.

I take it he can explain 'em. I don't easily forget. And I owe some one a deal more than I've yet been able to pay. P'r'aps that dog'll help me to discharge my debt. Good-bye, Al; I must be off or I shan't get back this afternoon."

Robb turned away in his cheerful, debonair manner and rode off.

Troubles sat lightly on his stout heart. His effervescent nature never left him long depressed when Fortune played her freakish tricks upon him. He had lost his commission upon the sale of Iredale's land, but he had secured the better deal of the cattle. Therefore he was satisfied. But Robb was a very persistent man in his seemingly haphazard fas.h.i.+on. He had promised himself an interview with Hervey about his dog. He had never forgotten or forgiven the disaster in the mountains, and he believed that Hervey would be able to set him on the track of Zachary Smith, whom he felt certain he had seen at the Winnipeg depot. He hoped so; and, for this purpose, he intended to spend the night at Loon d.y.k.e Farm.

As her lover rode away Alice turned back to the house. The anxious look was still upon her face. She knew that there was serious trouble in the family, and she could see no way of helping these people she loved. Prudence was in sad disgrace with her mother; she had been absent from the farm for two days and had only returned that morning.

Mrs. Malling had been distracted with anxiety and grief until the re-appearance of her daughter, and then, when she saw that she was well and that no accident had happened to her, she had flown into such a terrible pa.s.sion that even Prudence had quailed before her. Never in her life had Alice seen the kindly old soul give way to such rage.

No disparaging epithet had been too bad for her child, and she had literally chased the girl from the room in which they had met. Since then Prudence had retreated to her bedroom, and Hephzibah had poured out the vials of her wrath upon an empty kitchen, for even the long-suffering hired girl had feared to face her.

Now, as Alice approached the front door again, she heard the sound of high-pitched voices coming from the kitchen. Sarah Gurridge had come over while the farm-wife's rage was at its height; and, as Alice listened, she thought that these two old cronies were quarrelling. But her ears quickly told her that her surmise was wrong. She heard Prudence's voice raised in angry protest, and, instead of entering the house, she discreetly withdrew, pa.s.sing round to the farmyard instead.

In the kitchen a stormy scene was being enacted.

Prudence was standing just inside the door. Her mother was beside a long table on which were laid out the necessaries for pastry-making.

She had faced round upon the girl and stood brandis.h.i.+ng a rolling-pin in one hand, and in the other she held a small basket of eggs. Sarah was seated in a high-backed Windsor chair. Her arms were folded across her waist, and her face expressed perplexed alarm. Prudence's face was aflame; nor were her eyes one whit less angry than her mother's.

"But I say you shall hear me, mother, whether you like it or not. I'll not let you or any one else call me the filth which you did this morning for nothing."

The girl's voice was hoa.r.s.e with nervous feeling, Mrs Mailing shook her rolling-pin in a perfect fury.

"Out of this kitchen, you baggage! Out of it, do you hear me? Go an'

get your garments packed up, and out ye go into the street. Child o'

my flesh, are ye? Out of my house, you drab, or maybe I'll be doing you a harm. I'll teach the like o' you to be stoppin' out o' nights an' then to come back wi'out a word of explainin'. I'll teach you."

"Give the child a hearing, Hephzibah," said Sarah, in her soft even tones, as there came a lull in the angry mother's tirade.

Prudence shot a grateful glance in her preceptor's direction.

Hephzibah turned swiftly on the peaceful Sarah. But the words of anger which hovered upon her lips remained unspoken. Sarah was an influence in the old lady's life, and long a.s.sociation was not without effect.

She visibly calmed. Prudence saw the change and took advantage of it.

"How could I explain when you wouldn't listen to me?" she exclaimed resentfully. "Almost before I could say a word you called me all the shameful things you could think of. You drove me to silence when I was willing to tell you all--I was more than willing. You _must_ know all, for the story I have to tell as nearly affects you as it does me. I stayed away from home to save an innocent man from the dreadful charge of murder, and your son from perpetrating the most wanton act of his worthless life."

A dead silence followed her words. Hephzibah stared at her with an expression of stupefied amazement, while Sarah turned in her chair with a movement which was almost a jolt. The silence was at last broken by the girl's mother.

"Murder? Hervey?"

And there was no understanding in her tone. Her mind seemed to be groping blindly, and she merely repeated the two words which struck her most forcibly.

"Yes, 'murder' and 'Hervey,'" Prudence retorted. "Hervey has accused George Iredale of the murder of Leslie Grey. Now will you listen to my explanation?"

Hephzibah precipitated herself into a chair. The rolling-pin was returned to its place upon the dough-board with a clatter, and the basket of eggs was set down with a force that sorely jeopardized its contents.

"Yes, girl. Tell me all. Let me hear what devil's work my Hervey's been up to. La sakes! an' George Iredale a murderer!"

And Prudence, her anger evaporated as swiftly as her mother's, told the two old ladies of her love for Iredale, and how he had asked her to be his wife. She told them how Hervey had come to her with the story of his discovery; how, after attempting to blackmail his victim, he had offered his information to her at a price. How she forced him to prove his case, and had sent him to Winnipeg with that object; how she had been nearly distracted, and eventually made up her mind to go and see Iredale himself; how the accused man had established to her his innocence beyond any doubt, and how he had shown her how impossible it would be for him to use the same means of clearing himself in a court of law. She dwelt upon each point, so that these two, who were so dear to her, should not fail to understand as she understood. Then she told them how, recognizing George's danger, she had resolved to intercept Hervey, and, with her mother's a.s.sistance, pay him off; and, finally, how she had been overtaken by the forest fire; and how, her mare exhausted, she had arrived at Damside in time to send her message to her brother; and how, failing any other means of returning home, she had taken shelter with the elevator clerk's wife until her mare had recovered and she was able to resume her journey to the farm.

It was a long story, and the many interruptions of her mother gave the girl much extra trouble in the telling; but with a wonderful patience, born of her anxiety for her lover, she dealt with every little point that puzzled her audience.

When the story was finished its effect was made curiously manifest.

The one thing which seemed to have gripped her mother's intensest feeling was the part her boy had played. Her round eyes had grown stern, and her comely lips had parted as her breath came heavy and fast. At last she burst out with a curious mixture of anger and sorrow in her words.

"Bone of my Silas; flesh of my flesh; an' to think o' the like. My Hervey a whelp of h.e.l.l; a bloodsucker. Oh, that I should ha' lived to see such a day," and she rocked herself, with her hand supporting her head and her elbows planted upon her knees. "Oh, them travellin's in foreign parts. My poor, poor Silas; if he'd jest lived long 'nough to git around our boy with a horsewhip we might ha' been spared this disgrace. Prudence, girl, I'm that sorry for what I've said to you."

Tears welled in the old eyes, which had now become very wistful, and slowly rolled down the plump cheeks. Suddenly she gathered up her ap.r.o.n and flung it up over her head, and the rocking continued dismally. Prudence came over to her and knelt at her side, caressing her stout figure in sympathy. Sarah sat looking away towards the window with dreamy eyes. The old school-mistress made no comment; she was thinking deeply.