The Cryptogram Part 43

The law clerk shouldered the trunk and marched from the room. The rest of us followed, and the factor closed and locked the door.

That same evening, feeling restless, I left the house to take a stroll in the fort inclosure. It was a relief to be away from the red-hot stove and from the chatter of my companions.

I was in low spirits, I confess--which was one reason why I had come out. Flora had been unlike herself at supper, very quiet and thoughtful--a rare thing for her--and I had not seen her since she left the table. I feared that she was feeling ill, and, of course, lover-like, I evolved all sorts of dread possibilities from this. I had in mind, besides, another and more vague cause of anxiety, which was as yet too intangible to grasp.

For an hour I must have tramped here and there about the inclosure.

At last, wretched and miserable, I returned to the factor's house. I entered the sitting room and was glad to find it empty and dark. I lighted a lamp, and coaxed up the dying embers of the fire with fresh wood. I was in no mood for sleep, and for a long time I sat by the stove, smoking pipe after pipe of strong tobacco, and staring gloomily at the flames.

When a distant clock struck twelve I roused from my stupor. I felt in better spirits, for I had reasoned myself into the belief that Flora still loved me, and that her strange actions sprang from another cause.

I blew out the lamp and, lest I should waken any of the sleepers in the house, I took off my boots and carried them in one hand.

I went softly upstairs in the darkness, and threaded a long, narrow hall. Two-thirds of the way along this I pa.s.sed the door of Flora's room, and I was careful not to disturb her by the slightest sound. At the end of the hall a window admitted the silvery glow of the moon, and here a cross pa.s.sage turned to the right. Twenty feet away a thin bar of light shone from a room that I knew was Captain Rudstone's, and beyond that lay some empty apartments. My own room was one of the first. I slipped into it, put my boots on the floor and began to grope for a light.

But before I could find the candle I was startled to hear footsteps--very faint, but unmistakable--approaching without. I crept noiselessly to the door and looked down the pa.s.sage. Good Heavens! did my eyes deceive me? Did I actually see a ghost--an apparition?

But a ghost in black? Impossible! Now I beheld more clearly. A woman, gliding on slippered feet, was coming toward me. The moonbeams shone on the long cloak of fur that enveloped her from head to foot--on the loosened hair and silver-hued face. And it was the face of Flora Hatherton!

For an instant the hot blood rushed to my brain; I felt a sharp pang at my heart. Then I stepped suddenly out--out into the flood of moonlight--and confronted her. She gave a little scream, and choked it as quickly on her lips.

"Denzil!" she gasped.

"Flora!" I said sternly. "What does this mean?"

"Hush!" she whispered. "We shall be heard! You--you said you would trust me. Is this keeping your word?"

"Where have you been?" I demanded hoa.r.s.ely.

"I will tell you--again. Oh, be merciful, be patient!"

I saw that Captain Rudstone's light had vanished. A madness sprang up in my breast.

"Where have you been?" I repeated. "Speak, for G.o.d's sake! Only two rooms are occupied on this pa.s.sage--mine and--and his."

I would have given my life to recall the hot words when I saw the horror, the pitiful look of agony that shone from Flora's eyes.

"Denzil, can you think that--that?" she asked. "Do you believe that I have come from his room? Oh, merciful Heaven! that is too much! Say that I have not read your thoughts aright!"

"Forgive, darling!" I whispered. "G.o.d help me, I knew not what I said!

No, no, I will never believe that! Flora, my wife----"

"I am trying you cruelly," she interrupted. "But I am innocent--my heart is all yours! Trust me, dearest, to the end. And now go--go! Think what it will mean to be found here together!"

With that she slipped by me, pa.s.sed quickly to the end of the pa.s.sage, and vanished from sight. I reeled like a drunken man into my room, closed the door noiselessly, and threw myself on the bed.

CHAPTER XLVI.

THE ALARM.

That sleepless night--I shudder as I recall it. For hours I tossed on the bed, rent by conflicting emotions, ashamed one minute of my ign.o.ble thoughts, plunged the next into a black abyss of doubt. At the first flush of wintry dawn I dozed off into slumber; the sun was shining when I awoke, and the moonlight encounter seemed more a dream than a reality.

As I dressed I considered the matter as calmly as possible, and I made two resolves--that I would hold fast to my faith in Flora, and would patiently wait her own time for explaining the mystery. But the demon of mistrust still lurked within me; I was as miserable as only a jealous lover can be, and I dreaded unspeakably the ordeal of hiding my feelings through the day.

What a memorable day it was to be! Its every incident is etched on the curtain of the past with sharp and unfaded lines. The beginning was commonplace enough. I was too late for breakfast, and I sat quite alone over my coffee and fried fish. Flora I did not see. I exchanged a few words with Captain Rudstone and Christopher Burley and then went off to the clerks' quarters, where I a.s.sisted with the work until dinner time.

At that meal I was forced to pretend to be in good spirits, and I found it a hard task. Captain Rudstone, whose ident.i.ty was known to but the four of us, told a laughable story of one of his experiences in the States. But I observed, to my discomfiture, that he kept a close watch on Flora. She sat opposite to me, joining in the conversation with a ring of merriment that I detected as false, and as much as possible she avoided meeting my eyes.

After dinner she left the room with Mrs. Macdonald, but first she found an opportunity to slip a sc.r.a.p of paper into my hand.

I walked to the window and opened it, and the few words that it contained made my heart beat rapidly:

"If you love me, Denzil, trust me. All will, come right in the end."

As I thrust the paper into my pocket, feeling both comforted and puzzled by the message, the factor called me.

"I am going to the settlement," he said, "on a matter of business. Do you care to ride along with me, Carew?"

Any occupation promised to be a relief, and I gladly accepted the invitation. Half an hour later we were off, mounted on good horses. The object of our visit was to examine several secret agents--spies, to speak plainly--who had come in with reports concerning the Northwest Company. For obvious reasons, Macdonald did not wish them to be seen entering the fort.

It proved to be a lengthy business, and we were detained all afternoon and part of the evening. As to what we learned, that may be dismissed in a few words: but the news was more satisfactory than it had been for a long time. The half-breeds were comparatively quiet, presumably because of a warning hint from headquarters. And the truculent officials of the rival company had taken no steps to call our people to account for the attack on Lagarde's store, nor did they appear to have any intention of demanding the person of Captain Rudstone. Doubtless they thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. Of course this altered situation caused the factor and myself no little relief.

We had supper at the settlement, and rode back by moonlight. We put our horses away, and entered the house. It was then half-past ten o'clock, and we found Christopher Burley in solitary possession of the sitting room, hugging the stove closely and reading an old newspaper. Every one else, he informed us, had turned in for the night, Captain Rudstone having left only a few minutes before.

"I'm not sleepy," Macdonald said to me. "Are you?"

"Not a bit," I replied. "Then we'll have a sociable hour, Carew. I'm just in the humor for it."

He took tobacco and whisky from a closet, and after filling our gla.s.ses and lighting our pipes, we joined the law clerk round the stove.

"It has been a tiresome afternoon," the factor said finally, "but the prospect looks bright--very bright. You will be glad to hear, Mr.

Burley, that his lordship--ahem! I mean your client--need not remain at Fort Garry any longer than he wishes. At least that is my opinion."

"I am indeed relieved, sir," the law clerk replied. "I feared grave complications. I admit that I am anxious--if I may say so without putting any slight upon your gracious hospitality--to start for England as soon as possible. There is much to be done--many legal matters to be attended to--and it is important that the new Earl of Heathermere should lose no time in claiming his t.i.tle and property."

"Lucky fellow!" said Macdonald. "And in what a cool, matter-of-fact way he takes his good fortune!"

"He is a man of the world--that accounts for it," said I.

"It is purely a matter of breeding," Christopher Burley replied stiffly.

"Blood tells always. His lordship is a worthy descendant of an ancient family."

"Then you won't admit that I, or Carew here, would be as well fitted to fill the position?" Macdonald asked laughingly.

What reply the law clerk would have made will never be known, for just then from the upper part of the house rang a woman's shrill scream.