Benton of the Royal Mounted Part 19

Most men can, and invariably do, recover from the first benumbing effects of misfortune, but-they cannot _forget_. In appearance the doctor was a rather distinguished-looking man, tall and powerfully-built, with closely cropped iron-gray hair, and a complexion that was bronzed and roughened by years of exposure to a tropical sun.

That worn, haggard face of his, though, told a real tale. The furrows there had been plowed by an enduring bitterness, and though only in his forty-fifth year, he looked considerably older.

Exchanging a few desultory remarks, they strolled on down the sidewalk and, pa.s.sing the station, drew near to the last of the scattered houses.

During their progress Ellis had been aware of light footsteps following them and, glancing back once or twice, had noticed a woman approaching.

Soon she caught up to them and, thinking that she was about to pa.s.s, he drew in close to Musgrave to give her room to get by. Presently she came alongside and, to his utter surprise, a sweet, girlish voice said, coaxingly:

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Church'; coming in?" And a hand caught his that hung at his side and gave it a gentle squeeze.

They were just within the glare of one of the few street lamps that the ill-lighted little town boasted, and opposite the gate of the end cottage. He beheld a girl, whose age he might have computed at anything between eighteen and twenty-five-tall, and voluptuously formed, with thick ma.s.ses of dark hair that curled in little wavy tendrils around a broad, low, white forehead with level brows. Her complexion still retained the soft bloom of that of a healthy country girl, and a pair of bewitching dark-brown eyes flashed into his with a fluttering self-consciousness that told him many things.

Musgrave took a step or two forward and, turning, contemplated the scene with lazy curiosity, not unmixed with amus.e.m.e.nt. Sheer astonishment tied Benton's tongue for an instant, then:

"Sorry, sister," he said gravely. "Guess you've got the wrong number.

Better ring up again."

The girl uttered a little gasping giggle of surprise.

"Oh," she said. "I thought you were the _other_ policeman."

She fidgeted a little at his silent regard and clicked the gate open, continuing:

"Well-you look a pretty nice boy!"

But the words, though light and brazen in themselves, rang false, and betrayed the novice. She began to flinch under the steady stare of those calm, watchful, pa.s.sionless eyes and, returning his look with a slight air of defiance, twisted and untwisted her gloves with a little nervous laugh.

Ellis hesitated. He was no Joseph-this was Churchill's district, and _his_ look-out, was his first impulsive reflection. But something-something that was, perhaps, _childish_, in the girl's great dark eyes and winsome face, in which there still remained a trace of her lost innocence and her self-conscious voice and manner, held him awhile longer, motionless.

And, as the man continued to stand there with bent head, curiously still, as if carved in stone, just looking-and _looking_-in deep, thoughtful silence at the wanton young beauty who sought to tempt him, the filmy, transparent outlines of _another_ face, it seemed to him, rose up alongside hers.

The sweetly grave, spiritual face of a girl, long since dead, whose love had once been his-the very incarnation of womanly purity.

"Yes," he mused, "that was it-that was it begad! it was the _eyes_ ...

they were very, very like poor Eileen's."

Presently he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"See here; look, Mandy," he said soberly. "If I was doing my duty properly I should just take you down to the police station, lock you up, an' put a charge against you that a certain section of the Criminal Code prescribes for your offense. D'you get me?"

She s.h.i.+vered and paled a little, and her great eyes opened wide as she searched his face beseechingly, as if trying to discern whether he was in earnest. There was no banter in his tones, so she came closer and, catching his hand again, looked into his face with a forlorn sort of smile that was at once both roguish and pitiful.

"D'you mean that, or are you on'y just foolin', Policeman?" she implored. "You wouldn't arrest me, would you?"

The Sergeant contemplated her thoughtfully. And a great pity arose in him, for the fingers that clasped his own were deadly cold, and the cheap finery that she was clad in was but a miserable protection against the chilly wind that had sprung up.

"Now listen," he said. "_You_ haven't been in business long, my girl.

You can't fool me. Quit it, kid, before you get in _real_ wrong. Get back to th' farm again."

She stared at him with open-eyed astonishment.

"Why!" she gasped, "who told you I come from a farm?"

He laughed quietly. "Just a sayin' sister," he said. "Seems I wasn't far out, eh? Where _do_ you come from, then?"

But her lips only trembled and closed tightly, as she regarded him now steadfastly, in dogged silence.

"Now, see here; look," Ellis went on slowly. "If it's because you're up against it an' want money, why-" He drew out a five-dollar bill from his pocket and closed her fingers gently over it.

The kind ring in his voice unnerved her. She looked at him vaguely for a few seconds with heaving bosom and glistening, tear-filled eyes, then suddenly burst out into pa.s.sionate sobbing.

"Oh!" she wailed between the convulsive spasms of emotion that shook her. "Oh, my G.o.d! D'you think I'd be doin' this if we didn't! No, no!

Oh, dear!"

The Sergeant's brows contracted with a sudden, sharp, lowering glance.

"Who's _we_?" he inquired with significant interest.

With a few long-drawn, shuddering sobs, like a child that has been scolded for crying, she quieted down curiously at his question and, presently pulling out a handkerchief, began to dry her eyes.

He reiterated his query, but she only stared back at him with dumb, though not defiant, obstinacy, as before.

"You stayin' _here_?" He indicated the cottage. She nodded. He turned on his heel and prepared to depart.

"You go in then, kid; you're cold," he said. "You be a good girl, now, an' don't get chippyin' round no more or you'll be gettin' into trouble.

Good night."

And, leaving her gazing after him wistfully, he rejoined the waiting doctor, and they moved off slowly back the way they had come.

"Moral reformer, eh! for a change?" Musgrave remarked with a flippant, gibing laugh. "Well, it isn't worse than many of your vagaries. We shall have you entering Holy Orders next, I suppose?"

In his heart the savage old cynic approved; but, for the life of him, he could not check the sneer.

Ellis made no reply. It was a habit of his very often not to answer Charley, and the latter did not mind it in the least.

"Now listen," pursued Musgrave. "I'll tell _you_ something now. I've been here for two days. Langley, who owns the hotel here, is an old patient of mine. He wired me to come down an' see a man who was ill in his place-chap asked him to get a doctor. Rattray, the medico here, is in hospital himself, undergoing an operation for appendicitis, so I came along. Now, I'm a specialist. I don't undervalue _my_ professional services in the least, I can a.s.sure you. Quit that, years ago. I have my fee. Those that don't care to pay it are welcome to get somebody else-that's all there's to it. Now-coming back to this case in hand-naturally, after having to come all the way down here, one of the first things I did was to sound Langley as to my prospective patient's financial stability. May sound mercenary, or merciless, whichever you please-to _you_-but, as I said before-Well, Langley said he was all right, as far as he knew. Seemed to have plenty of money-has paid up square enough during the week or so he's been in the hotel-was an absolute stranger to him-registered as John Walters, from Toronto-said he'd been sick for a couple of days. So I went upstairs to have a look at him. He looks to me like a clerk, counter-jumper-town-bred, anyway-might be anything-I don't know what his line in life is-never asked him. He must have divined that I'd been questioning Langley about him, for one of the first things he said to me was: 'Money's all right, Doctor. Oh, I've got plenty of "dough."' And he fumbles under the bedclothes and shakes three or four _hundred_-dollar bills at me.

_Hundred-dollar_ ones, mind you! Afterwards, when I was examining him, I found he was wearing a leather money-belt next to his skin-you know-the kind we used to have in South Africa, with pockets all round. I don't know, of course, how much he's got in it; but he hangs on to it mighty close, and seems very nervous and suspicious. He's a pretty sick man, anyway. I may have to rush him into town to one of the hospitals, and operate on him right away. I'm just waiting for a certain symptom to show up. Now, here's one of the queerest parts about this business. The morning after he'd put up at the hotel-so Langley tells me-_this girl_ came here, along with some chap. Whether they're man and wife, or not, I couldn't say; they're living together _as_ such, at all events, and they've rented that cottage. What the fellow's name is I don't know, or what his business here is, either. He dresses fairly well, and he's got good looks-of a certain type. But it sure is a d-d bad face, all the same. Typical 'white-slaver's.' Well, yesterday afternoon I went upstairs to see my patient. I'd just got to the landing where his room is, when I heard somebody talking to him-in precious loud, ugly tones, too. I heard this: 'Yer thought yer could "shake" me-hidin' away in this burg, eh? Now, look a-here. I'm nigh broke-you're flush. If yer don't come across quick, I'm a-goin' to start somethin'. I've bin here close on a week now, an' I ain't a-goin' to wait no longer!'

"I promptly opened the door and stepped in, and here was my gentleman, standing by the side of Walters' bed. The expression on his mug was anything but sweet, and as for Walters-he was all in-collapsed, absolutely. 'What's the trouble?' I said. 'Oh, nothin',' says Mr. Man, kind of off-hand; 'just a-talkin' over a little business matter with my friend, here.' 'Well, now look here,' I said; 'I'm the doctor attending this man. He isn't in a fit condition to talk business to anybody, especially _your_ kind. Just _look_ at him, man! Now, you get straight out of here-right now. I'm not going to have you worrying this man in the condition that he's in; and remember, you're to stay out-for good.

You keep away from here altogether, or I'll d-d soon take steps to make you. D'you hear?' He looked at me in a precious mean, ugly sort of way, but he slunk out, and he hasn't been near Walters since. That's _why_ I wanted Churchill. Looks now as if _he_ might know something, eh?"

Ellis uttered a short, mirthless laugh. "That's what," he answered succinctly.

They walked on in silence for awhile.

"It's like this," resumed Musgrave. "I'm purely and simply in the position of a doctor called in to see a patient. As long as I'm remunerated for my professional services it's none of my business to go poking about, prying into other people's affairs, and I don't intend to in this case. That's up to _you_. But, all the same, the whole thing seems a kind of a rum go, and I thought I'd better mention it to one of you. Whatever's this fellow, Walters, going around with all this money cached on him for? keeping indoors always, religiously, at night-so Langley says ... of no occupation-never speaking to anybody if he can help it ... as mum as you please.... Never letting on to Langley, or any one, that he knew this other chap, either. Then this talk I overheard in his bedroom ... proper blackmail. The plot thickens-ahem! I think we'd better temporarily a.s.sume the respective roles of Sherlock Holmes and his pal, Dr. Watson, to clear up this dark mystery," he concluded, with a melodramatic chuckle.

The Sergeant nodded, with a thoughtful grin.

"M-m, yes! it sure does look kind of queer," he murmured. "Guess I'll take a _dekho_ at both these ginks tomorrow, Charley, before I pull out to the Creek. That girl, for instance. You can take your oath she's just travelin' with that chap. Been enticed away from some little country burg-you know the ways and means these brutes have o' working these things? Once away from home they're done for, and scared to go back. He must be just usin' her as a decoy-duck for some rotten business best known to himself, but you could see how green she was. Churchill-what?

the d-d fool-riskin' his job-gossipy one-horse _dorp_ like this!"