The Luck of the Mounted Part 14

"Sh.o.r.e did!" struck in Reed. "We was scared fur Larry, so we told him to beat it home--which he did--an' then we got Windy up to bed an' stayed with him nigh all night."

Slavin looked at Brophy interrogatively. "Yuh can vouch for this, tu, Billy? He's bin in yu're place iver since th' throuble smarted?"

Brophy nodded. "Yes! d----n him! I wish he had got out before this bizness started. Yes! he's bin here right along, Sarjint! why?--what's up?"

Slavin evaded the direct question for the moment. Silently awhile he gazed at the three wondering faces. "Now, I'll tell yez!" he said slowly. And briefly he informed them of the murder--omitting all detail of the clues obtained later. They listened with wide eyes and broke out into startled exclamations. The prisoner struggled up from the chair, his bruised, ghastly face registering fear and genuine astonishment.

Redmond shoved him back again.

"If any feller thinks--" Moran relapsed into maudlin, hysterical protestations of innocence, calling upon the Deity to bear witness that he was innocent and had no knowledge whatever of how Blake came to his death.

Eventually silence fell upon all. Slavin cogitated awhile, then he turned to Brophy. "Who else was in, Billy? Out av town fellers I mean, fwhin this racket occurred betune these tu? Thry an' think now!"

Brophy pondered long and presently reeled off a few names. Slavin heard him out and shook his head negatively. "Nothin' doin' there!" he announced finally, "Mr. Gully was in, yuh say? Did he see anythin' av this row?"

"Cudn't help it, I guess," replied Brophy. "He just come inta th' office for his grip while it was a-goin' on. He beat it out quick for th'

East-bound as had just come in. Said he was runnin' down to Calgary. He ain't back yet. Guess he wudn't want to go gettin' mixed up in anythin'

like that, either--him bein' a J. P."

Slavin looked at Yorke. "Let's have a luk at that gun av Moran's!" he remarked. "Fwhat is ut?"

Yorke handed the weapon over. "'Smith and Wesson' single-action," he said. "Just that one round gone."

"Nothin doin' agin'," muttered Slavin disappointedly. He broke the gun and, ejecting the sh.e.l.ls put all in his pocket. He then turned to Moran.

"D----d good job for yu'--havin' this alibi, Mister Windy!" he growled, "don't seem anythin' on yu' over this killin'--as yet! But yez are goin'

tu get ut fwhere th' bottle got th' cork for this other bizness, me man!"

And he proceeded to formally charge and warn his prisoner.

"Give us a room, Brophy!" he said, "a big wan for th' bunch av us--an'

lave a shake-down on th' flure for this feller!"

Preceded by the landlord the trio departed upstairs, escorting their prisoner. Alone in the room they discussed matters in lowered tones; Slavin and Yorke not forgetting to compliment Redmond on his presence of mind--or, as the sergeant put it: "Divartin' his attenshun."

The big Irishman scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I must go wire th'

O.C. report av all this. Sind Gully comes back on th' same thrain wid Inspector Kilbride to-morrow. Thin we can go ahead--wid two J.P.s tu handle things. Yuh take charge av Mr. Man, Ridmond! Me an' Yorke will go an' eat now, an' relieve yuh later."

CHAPTER VIII

"The Court is prepared, the Lawyers are met, The Judges all ranged, a terrible show!"

As Captain Macheath says,--and when one's arraigned, The sight's as unpleasant a one as I know.

THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.

"Orrrdher in Coort!" rang out Sergeant Slavin's abrupt command. It was about ten o'clock the following morning. The hotel parlour had been hastily transformed into a temporary court-room. A large square table had been drawn to one end of the room and two easy chairs placed conveniently behind it. Fronting it was a long bench, designed for the prisoner and escort. In the immediate rear were arranged a few rows of chairs, to accommodate the witnesses and spectators.

The sergeant's order, prompted by the entrance of the two Justices of the Peace, was the occasion of all present rising to attention, in customary deference to police-court rules. One of the newcomers, dressed in the neat blue-serge uniform of an inspector of the Force, was familiar to Redmond as Inspector Kilbride, who had been recently transferred to L Division from a northern district. He had close-cropped gray hair and a clipped, grizzled moustache. Though apparently nearing middle-age he still possessed the slim, wiry, active figure of a man long inured to the saddle.

The appearance of his judicial confrere fairly startled George. He was a huge fellow, fully as tall and as heavy a man as Slavin, though not so compactly-built or erect as the latter. Still, his wide, loosely-hung, slightly bowed shoulders suggested vast strength, and his leisurely though active movements indicated absolute muscular control. But it was the strangely sombre, mask-like face which excited Redmond's interest most. Beneath the broad, prominent brow of a thinker a pair of deep-set, shadowy dark eyes peered forth, with the lifeless, unwinking stare of an owl. Between them jutted a large, bony beak of a nose, with finely-cut nostrils. The pitiless set of the powerful jaw was only partially concealed by an enormous drooping moustache, the latter reddish in colour and streaked with gray, like his thinning, carefully brushed hair. His age was hard to determine. Somewhere around forty-five, George decided, as he regarded with covert interest Ruthven Gully, Esq., gentleman-rancher and Justice of the Peace for the district.

The two Justices took their places with magisterial decorum, the witnesses seated themselves again, and, all being ready, the sergeant opened the court with its time-honoured formula.

The inspector glanced over the various "informations" and handed them over to his confrere for perusal. A brief whispered colloquy ensued between them, and then the local justice settled himself back in his chair, chin in hand. Inspector Kilbride addressed the prisoner who had remained standing between Yorke and Redmond, and in a clear, pa.s.sionless voice proceeded to read out the several charges.

"Do you wish to ask for a remand, Moran?" he enquired, "to enable you to procure counsel?"

"No, sir!" Moran's sullen, insolent eyes suddenly encountering a dangerous, steely glare from Kilbride's gray orbs he wilted and immediately dropped his belligerent att.i.tude. "No use me hirin' a mouthpiece," he added, "as I'm a-goin' t' plead guilty t' all them charges."

"Ah!" The inspector thoughtfully conned over the "informations" once more. "Sergeant Slavin," said he presently, "what are the particulars of this man's disorderly conduct?"

He listened awhile to the sergeant's evidence, occasionally asking a question or two, but Mr. Gully remained in the same silent, brooding, inscrutable att.i.tude which he had adopted at the commencement of the proceedings. Though apparently listening keenly, his shadowy eyes betrayed no interest whatever in the case.

Of that face Yorke had once remarked to Slavin: "That beggar's mug fairly haunts me sometimes. . . . He's a good fellow, Gully,--but, you know--when he gets that brooding look on his face . . . he's the living personification of a western Eugene Aram."

And Slavin, engaged in shredding a pipeful of tobacco had mumbled absently "So?--Ujin Airum!--I du not mind th' ould shtiff--fwhat was his reg'minthal number?"

The sergeant finished his evidence; Kilbride swung round to his fellow-justice once more and they held a whispered consultation, the latter making emphatic gestures throughout the colloquy. This ending the inspector turned to the prisoner.

"You have pleaded guilty to each of these charges. Have you anything to say?--any explanation to offer for your reckless, disorderly conduct?"

The prisoner swallowed nervously and shuffled with his feet. "Guess I was drunk," he said finally, "didn't know what I was doin'."

The inspector's grey eyes glittered coldly. "So?" he drawled ironically, "the sergeant's evidence is to the contrary. It would appear that you were not so very drunk. You were neither staggering nor incapable at the time. It was merely a rehearsal of a cheap bit of dime novel sort of bar-room, rough-house black-guardism that no doubt in various other places you have got away with and emerged the swaggering hero. Where do you come from? Whom are you working for now?"

"Havre, Montana. I'm ridin' fur th' North-West Cattle Company."

"Ah! well, let me tell you that sort of stuff doesn't go over on this side, my man." He considered a moment and picked up a Criminal Code.

"In view of your pleading guilty to these charges, and therefore not wasting the time of this court unnecessarily, I propose dealing with you in more lenient fas.h.i.+on than you deserve. For being unlawfully in possession of firearms you are fined twenty dollars and costs. For 'pointing fire-arms,' fifty dollars and costs. On the charge of 'resisting the police in the execution of their duty' you are sentenced to six months imprisonment with hard labour in the Mounted Police Guard-room at Calgary. You are also required to make rest.i.tution for all damage caused as the result of your fracas."

Moran squirmed and mumbled: "If I've got t' do time on the one charge I might as well do it on th' rest, an' save th' money fur t' pay fur th'

damage."

"Very good!" agreed the inspector coldly. He bent again to his confrere and they conferred awhile. Then he turned to the prisoner. "Thirty days hard labour then--on each of the first two charges--sentences to run concurrently." He paused a s.p.a.ce, resuming sternly: "And let me tell you this, Moran: in view of certain wild threats uttered by you in public you have narrowly escaped being charged with the greatest of all crimes. It is indeed a fortunate thing for you that you have been able to produce a reliable alibi. All right, Sergeant! you can close the court. Make out that warrant of commitment and I and Mr. Gully will sign it later. We're going over to see the coroner."

The two Justices arose and pa.s.sed out, the few witnesses and onlookers drifting aimlessly in their wake. Slavin lowered himself ponderously into the chair just vacated by the inspector, lit his pipe, and, whistling softly, commenced to fill out a legal form. Yorke and Redmond also took the opportunity to indulge in a quiet smoke as they chatted together in low tones. The former good-naturedly tossed a cigarette over to the prisoner, with the remark: "Have a smoke, Windy--it's the last you'll get for some time."

Moran, slumped in a tipped-back chair, blew a whiff of smoke from a lop-sided mouth. "Six months!" chanted he lugubriously, "an' they call this a free country!--free h.e.l.l!--

"_Oh, bury me out on th' lone prair-ee, Where th' wild ki-oot'll howl over me,--_

"--might as well an' ha' done with it!"

They all laughed unsympathetically. "'Tis mighty lucky for yuh thim sintences run concurrently instid av consecutively," was the sergeant's rejoinder, "or ut'd be eight months yez ud be doin' stid av six."

The front legs of Moran's chair suddenly hit the floor with a crash.

"Lookit here, boys," he said earnestly, "that ther big mag'strate--him as you call Gully--is that his real name? Wher does he come from? What countryman is he?"