<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
<h3>LESLIE GREY FULFILS HIS DESTINY</h3>
<p>It was early morning. Early even for the staff of
the Rodney House Hotel. And Leslie Grey was
about to breakfast. The solitary waitress the hotel
boasted was laying the tables for the eight-o’clock
meal. The room had not yet assumed the spick-and-span
appearance which it would wear later
on. There was a suggestion of last night’s supper
about the atmosphere; and the girl, too, who moved
swiftly here and there arranging the tables, was still
clad in her early morning, frowsy print dress, and her
hair showed signs of having been hastily adjusted
without the aid of a looking-glass. A sight of her
suggested an abrupt rising at the latest possible
moment.</p>
<p>From the kitchen beyond a savoury odour of steak
and coffee penetrated the green baize swing-door
which stood at one end of the room.</p>
<p>“Is that steak nearly ready?” asked Grey irritably,
as the girl flicked some crumbs from the opposite end
of his table on to the floor, with that deft flourish of a
dirty napkin which waitresses usually obtain.</p>
<p>She paused in her work, and her hand went up
consciously to the screws of paper which adorned her
front hair.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_99' name='page_99'></SPAN>99</span></div>
<p>“Yessir, it’ll be along right now.”</p>
<p>Then she continued to flick the table in other
directions.</p>
<p>“I ordered breakfast for six o’clock. This is the
slackest place I ever knew. I shall talk to Morton
and see if things can’t be altered. Just go and rouse
that cook up. I’ve got to make Leonville before
two.”</p>
<p>The girl gave a final angry flick at an imaginary
crumb and flounced off in the direction of the kitchen.
The next moment her shrill voice was heard addressing
the cook.</p>
<p>“Mr. Grey wants his breakfast––sharp, Molly.
Dish it up. If it ain’t done it’s his look-out. There’s
no pleasing some folks. I s’pose Mr. Chillingwood’ll
be along d’rectly. Better put something on for him
or there’ll be a row. What’s that––steak? That
ain’t no good for Mr. Robb. He wants pork chops.
He never eats anything else for breakfast. Says he’s
used to pork.”</p>
<p>The girl returned to the breakfast room bearing
Grey’s steak and some potatoes. Coffee followed
quickly, and the officer attacked his victuals hungrily.
Then Robb Chillingwood appeared.</p>
<p>Leslie Grey was about to rate the girl for her
remarks to the cook, but Robb interrupted him.</p>
<p>“Well, how does the bridegroom feel?” he asked
cheerily.</p>
<p>“Shut up!”</p>
<p>“What’s the matter? Cranky on your wedding
morning?” pursued the town clerk irrepressibly.</p>
<p>“I wish to goodness you’d keep your mouth shut.
Why don’t you go and proclaim my affairs from the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_100' name='page_100'></SPAN>100</span>
steps of your beastly Town Hall?” Grey glanced
meaningly in the direction of the waitress standing in
open-mouthed astonishment beside one of the tables.</p>
<p>Robb laughed and his eyes twinkled mischievously.
He turned sharply on the girl.</p>
<p>“Why, didn’t you know that Mr. Grey was going
to be married to-day?” he asked, with assumed
solemnity. “Well, I’m blessed,” as the girl shook her
head and giggled. “You neglect your duty, Nellie,
my girl. What are you here for but to ‘sling hash’
and learn all the gossip and scandal concerning the
boarders? Yes, Mr. Grey is going to get married
to-day, and I––I am to be his best man. Now be off,
and fetch my ‘mutton’––which is pork.”</p>
<p>The girl ran off to do as she was bid, and also to
convey the news to her friends in the kitchen. Robb
sat down beside his companion and chuckled softly
as he gazed at Grey’s ill-humoured face, and listened
to the shrieks of laughter which were borne on the
atmosphere of cooking from beyond the baize door.</p>
<p>Grey choked down his indignation. For once he
understood that protest would not serve him. Everything
about his marriage had been kept quiet in
Ainsley up till now, not because there was any need
for it, but Robb had acceded to his expressed wishes.
The latter, however, felt himself in no way bound to
keep silence on this, the eventful day. Robb attacked
some toast as a preliminary, while the other devoured
his steak. Then Grey looked up from his plate.
His face had cleared; his ill-humour had been
replaced by a look of keen earnestness.</p>
<p>“It’s a beastly nuisance that this is my wedding
day,” he began. “Yes, I mean it,” as Robb looked
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_101' name='page_101'></SPAN>101</span>
up in horrified astonishment. “I don’t mean anything
derogatory to anybody. I just state an obvious fact.
You would understand if you knew all.”</p>
<p>“But, damn it, man, you ought to be ashamed of
yourself for saying such a thing. You are marrying
one of the best and sweetest girls in Southern Manitoba,
and yet––why, it’s enough to choke a man off
his feed.” Chillingwood was angry.</p>
<p>“Don’t be a fool. You haven’t many brains, I
know, but use the few you possess now, and listen to
me. A week ago, yes; a week hence, yes. But for
the next three days I have some dangerous work on
hand that must be done. Work of my department.”</p>
<p>“Ah, dirty work, I suppose, or there’d be no ‘must’
or ‘danger’ about it.”</p>
<p>Grey shrugged.</p>
<p>“Call it what you like. Since you’ve left the service
I notice you look at things differently,” he said.
“Anyway, it’s good enough for me to be determined
to see it through in spite of my wedding. Damn it,
there’s always some obstacle or other cropping up
at inopportune moments in my life. However––I
wish I knew whether I could still trust you to do
something for me. It would simplify matters considerably.”</p>
<p>Robb looked serious. He might not be possessed
of many brains, as Grey had suggested––although
Grey’s opinions were generally warped––but he
thought well before he replied. And when he spoke
he showed considerable decision and foresight.</p>
<p>“You can trust me all right enough if the matter is
clean and honest. I’ll do nothing dirty for you or
anybody else. I’ve seen too much.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_102' name='page_102'></SPAN>102</span></div>
<p>“Oh, it’s clean enough. I don’t dirty my hands
with dishonest dealings. I simply do my duty.”</p>
<p>“But your sense of duty is an exaggerated one––peculiar.
I notice that it takes the form of any
practices which you consider will advance your
personal interests.”</p>
<p>“It so happens that my ‘personal interests’ are
synonymous with the interests of those I serve. But
all I require is the delivery of a letter in Winnipeg,
at a certain time on a given date. I can’t trust the
post for a very particular reason, and as for the telegraph,
that wouldn’t answer my purpose. I could
employ a messenger, but that would not do either––a
disinterested messenger could be got at. You, I
know, couldn’t be––er––influenced. If you fail me,
then I must do it myself, which means that I must
leave my bride shortly after the ceremony to-day, and
not return to her until Friday, more than two days
hence. That’s how the matter stands. I will pay all
your expenses and give you a substantial present to
boot. Just for delivering a letter to the chief of police
in Winnipeg. I will go and write it at once if you
consent.”</p>
<p>Robb shook his head doubtfully.</p>
<p>“I must know more than that. First, I must know,
in confidence of course, the object of that letter.
And, secondly, who is to be the victim of your machinations.
Without these particulars you can count me
‘out.’ I’ll be no party to anything I might afterwards
have cause to regret.”</p>
<p>“That settles it then,” replied Grey resentfully. “I
can’t reveal the name of my ‘victim,’ as you so
graphically put it. You happen to know him, I
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_103' name='page_103'></SPAN>103</span>
believe, and are on a friendly footing with him.” He
finished up with a callous laugh.</p>
<p>Robb’s eyes shone wickedly.</p>
<p>“By Jove, Grey, you’ve sunk pretty low in your
efforts to regain your lost position. I always knew
that you hadn’t a particle of feeling in your whole
body for any one but yourself, but I didn’t think you’d
treat me to a taste of your rotten ways. Were it not
for the sake of Alice Gordon’s chum, the girl you are
going to marry, I wouldn’t be your best man. You
have become utterly impossible, and, after to-day’s
event, I wash my hands of you. Damn it, you’re a
skunk!”</p>
<p>Grey laughed loudly, but there was no mirth in his
hilarity. It was a heartless, nervous laugh.</p>
<p>“Easy, Robb, don’t get on your high horse,” he said
presently. Then he became silent, and a sigh escaped
him. “I had to make the suggestion,” he went on,
after a while. “You are the only man I dared to
trust. Confound it, if you must have it, I’m sorry!”
The apology came out with a jerk; it seemed to have
been literally wrung from him. “Try and forget it,
Robb,” he went on, more quietly, “we’ve known each
other for so many years.”</p>
<p>Robb was slightly mollified, but he was not likely
to forget his companion’s proposition. He changed
the subject.</p>
<p>“Talking of Winnipeg, you know I was up there
on business the other day. I had a bit of a shock
while I was walking about the depôt waiting for the
train to start.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Grey was not paying much attention; he
was absorbed in his own thoughts.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_104' name='page_104'></SPAN>104</span></div>
<p>“Yes,” Robb went on. “You remember Mr.
Zachary Smith?”</p>
<p>His companion looked up with a violent start.</p>
<p>“Well, I guess. What of him? I’m not likely to
forget him easily. There is just one desire I have in
life which dwarfs all others to insignificance, and that
is to stand face to face with Mr. Zachary Smith,”
Grey finished up significantly.</p>
<p>“Ah! So I should suppose,” Robb went on.
“Those are my feelings to a nicety. But I didn’t
quite realize my desire, and, besides, I wasn’t sure,
anyhow. A man appeared, just for one moment, at
the booking-office door as I happened to pass it. He
stared at me, and I caught his eye. Then he beat a
retreat before I had called his face to mind––you see,
his appearance was quite changed. A moment later
I remembered him, or thought I did, and gave chase.
But I had lost him, couldn’t discover a trace of him,
and nearly lost the train into the bargain. Mind, I
am not positive of the fellow’s identity, but I’d gamble
a few dollars on the matter, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Lord! I’d have missed fifty trains rather than have
lost sight of him. Just our luck,” Grey exclaimed
violently.</p>
<p>“Well, if he’s in the district, we’ll come across him
again. Perhaps you will have the next chance.” Robb
pushed his chair back.</p>
<p>“I hope so.”</p>
<p>“It was he, right enough,” Robb went on meditatively,
his cheery face puckered into an expression of
perplexity. “He was well dressed, too, in the garb
of an ordinary citizen, and looked quite clean and
respectable. His face had filled out; but it was his
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_105' name='page_105'></SPAN>105</span>
eyes that fixed me. You remember those two great,
deep-sunken, cow-eyes of his–––” Robb broke off as
he saw Grey start. “Why, what’s up?”</p>
<p>Grey shook himself; then he gazed straight before
him. Nor did he heed his companion’s question. A
strongly-marked pucker appeared between his eyebrows,
and a look of uncertainty was upon his face.
Robb again urged him.</p>
<p>“You haven’t seen him?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” replied Grey.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“I have just remembered something. I came across
a––stranger the other day. He was wrapped in furs,
and I could only see his eyes. But those eyes were distinctly
familiar––‘cow’-eyes, I think you said. I was
struck with their appearance at the time, but couldn’t
just realize where I had seen eyes like ’em before.”
Then he went on reflectively: “But no, it couldn’t
have been he. Ah–––” He broke off and glanced
in the direction of the window as the jangle of sleigh-bells
sounded outside. “Here’s our cutter. Come
on.”</p>
<p>Robb rose from his seat and brushed the crumbs
from his trousers. There came the sound of voices
from the other side of the door.</p>
<p>“Some of the boys,” said Robb, with a meaning
smile. “It’s early for ’em.”</p>
<p>“I believe this is your doing,” said Grey sulkily.</p>
<p>Robb nodded in the direction of the window.
“You’ve got a team. This is no ‘one-horsed’
affair.”</p>
<p>The door opened suddenly and two men entered.</p>
<p>“Oh, here he is,” said one, Charlie Trellis, the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_106' name='page_106'></SPAN>106</span>
postmaster, with a laugh. “Congratulate you, Grey,
my friend. Double harness, eh? Tame you down,
my boy. Good thing, marriage––for taming a man.”</p>
<p>“You’re not looking your best,” said the other,
Jack Broad, the telegraph operator. “Why, man, you
look as though you were going to your own funeral.
Buck up! Come and have a ‘Collins’; brace you
up for the ordeal.”</p>
<p>“Go to the devil, both of you,” said Grey ungraciously.
“I don’t swill eye-openers all day like you,
Jack Broad. Got something else to do.”</p>
<p>“So it seems. But cheer up, man,” replied Broad
imperturbably, “it’s not as bad as having a tooth
drawn.”</p>
<p>“Nor half as unpleasant as a funeral,” put in
Trellis, with a grin.</p>
<p>Grey turned to Robb.</p>
<p>“Come on,” he said abruptly. “Let’s get. I shall
say things in a minute if I stay here.”</p>
<p>“That ’ud be something new for you,” called out
Broad, as the two men left the room.</p>
<p>The door closed on his remark and he turned to
his companion.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for the poor girl,” he went on. “The
most can-tankerous pig I ever ran up against––is
Grey.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” agreed the other; “I can’t think how a
decent fellow like Robb Chillingwood can chum up
with him. He’s a surly clown––only fit for such
countries as the Yukon, where he comes from. He’s
not particularly clever either. Yes,” turning to the
waitress, “the usual. How would you like to be the
bride?”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_107' name='page_107'></SPAN>107</span></div>
<p>The girl shook her head.</p>
<p>“No, thanks. I like candy.”</p>
<p>“Ah, not vinegar.”</p>
<p>“Nor––nor––pigs.”</p>
<p>Broad turned to the grey-headed postmaster with a
loud guffaw.</p>
<p>“She seems to have sized Grey up pretty slick.”</p>
<p>Outside in the hall the two men donned their furs
and over-shoes. Fortunately for Grey’s peace of
mind there was no one else about. The bar-tender
was sweeping the office out, but he did not pause in
his work. Outside the front door the livery-stable
man was holding the horses. Grey took his seat to
drive, and wrapped the robes well about him. It was
a bitterly cold morning. Robb was just about to climb
in beside him when a ginger-headed man clad in a
pea-jacket came running from the direction of the
Town Hall. He waved one arm vigorously, clutching
in his hand a piece of paper. Robb saw him first.</p>
<p>“Something for me, as sure as a gun. Hold on,
Grey,” he said. “It’s Sutton, the sheriff. I wonder
what’s up?”</p>
<p>The ginger-headed man came up breathlessly.</p>
<p>“Thought I was going to miss you, Chillingwood.
A message from the Mayor. ‘Doc’ Ridley sends
word that the United States marshal has got that
horse-thief, Le Mar, over the other side. You’ll have
to make out the papers for bringing him over. I’ve
got to go and fetch him at once.”</p>
<p>“But, hang it, man, I can’t do them now,” exclaimed
Robb.</p>
<p>“He’s on leave of absence,” put in Grey.</p>
<p>“Can’t be helped. I’m sorry,” said the sheriff.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_108' name='page_108'></SPAN>108</span></div>
<p>“It’s business, you know. Besides, it won’t take
you more than an hour. I must get across to Verdon
before noon or it’ll be too late to get the papers
‘backed’ there. Come on, man; you can get another
cutter and follow Grey up in an hour. You won’t
lose much time.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and who’s going to pay the damage?” said
Robb, relinquishing his hold on the cutter’s rail.</p>
<p>The sheriff shrugged his shoulders.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to stay,” he said conclusively.</p>
<p>“I suppose so. Grey, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” replied Grey coldly. “It’s
not your fault. Well, good-bye. Don’t bother to
follow me up.”</p>
<p>“Damn!” ejaculated the good-hearted Robb, as
the cutter moved away.</p>
<p>“Going to get married, ain’t he?” said the sheriff
shortly, as Grey departed.</p>
<p>“Yes.” And the two men walked off in the direction
of Chillingwood’s office.</p>
<p>And Grey drove off to his wedding alone. He
was denied even the support of the only man who,
out of sheer good-heartedness, would have accompanied
him. The life of a man is more surely influenced
by the peculiarities of his own disposition than
anything else. When a man takes to himself a wife,
it is naturally a time for the well-wishes of his friends.
This man set out alone. Not one God-speed went
with him. And yet he was not disturbed by the lack
of sympathy. He looked at life from an uncommon
standpoint, measuring its scope for the attainment of
happiness by his own capacity for doing, not by any
association with his kind. He was one of those men
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_109' name='page_109'></SPAN>109</span>
who need no friendship from his fellows, preferring
rather to be without it. Thus he considered he was
freer to follow his own methods of life. Position
was his goal––position in the walk of life he had
chosen. Could he not attain this solely by his own
exertions, then he would do without it.</p>
<p>The crisp, morning air smote his cheeks with the
sting of a whip-lash as he drove down the bush-lined
trail which led from the Rodney House to the railway
depôt. It was necessary for him to cross the track at
this point before he would find himself upon the
prairie road to the Leonville school-house, at which
place the ceremony was to be performed. The “gush”
of the horses’ nostrils sounded refreshingly in his ears
as the animals fairly danced over the smooth, icy trail.
The sleigh-bells jangled with a confused clashing of
sounds in response to the gait of the eager beasts.
But Grey thought little of these things. He thought
little of anything just now but his intended despoiling
of the owner of Lonely Ranch. All other matters
were quite subsidiary to his one chief object.</p>
<p>Once out in the open, the horses settled down into
their long-distance stride. Here the trail was not so
good as in the precincts of the village. The snow
was deeper and softer. Now and then the horses’
hoofs would break through the frozen crust and sink
well above the fetlocks into the under-snow.</p>
<p>Now the thick bush, which surrounded the village,
gave place to a sparser covering of scattered bluffs,
and the grey-white aspect of the country became
apparent. The trail was well marked as far as the
eye could reach––two great furrows ploughed by the
passage of horses and the runners of the farmers’
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_110' name='page_110'></SPAN>110</span>
heavy “double-bobs.” Besides this, the colour was
different. There was a strong suggestion of earthiness
about the trail which was not to be observed
upon the rolling snow-fields of the surrounding
prairie.</p>
<p>The air was still though keen, and the morning sun
had already risen well above the mist of grey clouds
which still hovered above the eastern horizon. There
was a striking solemnity over all. It was the morning
promise of a fair day, and soon the dazzling sunshine
upon the snow would become blinding to eyes
unused to the winter prairie.</p>
<p>But Grey was no tenderfoot. Such things had no
terrors for him. His half-closed eyes faced the glare
of light defiantly. It is only the inexperienced who
gaze across the snow-bound earth, at such a time,
with wide-open eyes.</p>
<p>The bluffs became scarcer as mile after mile was
covered by the long, raking strides of the hardy
horses. Occasionally Grey was forced to pull off the
trail into the deep snow to allow the heavy-laden
hay-rack of some farmer to pass, or a box-sleigh,
weighted down with sacks of grain, toiling on its way
to the Ainsley elevator. These inconveniences were
the rule of the road, the lighter always giving way
to the heavier conveyance.</p>
<p>Ten miles from Ainsley and the wide open sea of
snow proclaimed the prairie in its due form. Not a
tree in sight, not a rock, not a hill to break the awful
monotony. Just one vast rolling expanse of snow
gleaming beneath the dazzling rays of a now warming
sun. A hungry coyote and his mate prowling in
search of food at a distance of half-a-mile looked
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_111' name='page_111'></SPAN>111</span>
large by reason of their isolation. An occasional
covey of prairie chicken, noisily winging their way to
a far-distant bluff, might well be startling both to
horses and driver. A dark ribbon-like flight of ducks
or geese, high up in the heavens, speeding from the
south to be early in the field when the sodden prairie
should be open, was something to distract the attention
of even the most pre-occupied. But Grey was
oblivious to everything except the trail beneath him,
the gait of his team, and his scheme for advancement.
The sun mounted higher, and the time passed
rapidly to the traveller. And, as the record of mileage
rose, the face of the snow-clad earth began again to
change its appearance. The undulations of the
prairie assumed vaster proportions. The waves rose
to the size of hills, and the gentle hollows sank
deeper until they declined into gaping valleys.
Here and there trees and small clumps of leafless
bush dotted the view. A house or two, with barn
looming largely in the rear, and spidery fencing,
stretching in rectangular directions, suggested homesteads;
the barking of dogs––life. These signs of
habitation continued, and became now more frequent,
and now, again, more rare. The hills increased in
size and the bush thickened. Noon saw the traveller
in an “up-and-down” country intersected by icebound
streams and snow-laden hollows. The timber
became more heavy, great pine trees dominating the
more stunted growths, and darkening the outlook
by reason of their more generous vegetation. On
the eastern extremity of this belt of country stood
the school-house of Leonville; beyond that the
undulating prairie again on to Loon Dyke Farm.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_112' name='page_112'></SPAN>112</span></div>
<p>Leslie Grey looked at his watch; the hands indicated
a near approach to the hour of one. He had
yet three miles to go to reach his destination. He
had crossed a small creek. A culvert bridged it, but
the snow upon either side of the trail was so deep in
the hollow that no indication of the woodwork was
visible. It was in such places as these that a watchful
care was needed. The smallest divergence from
the beaten track would have precipitated the team
and cutter into a snow-drift from which it would have
been impossible to extricate it without a smash-up.
Once safely across this he allowed the horses to climb
the opposite ascent leisurely. They had done well––he
had covered the distance in less than six hours.</p>
<p>The hill was a mass of redolent pinewoods. It
was as though the gradual densifying of this belt
of woodland country had culminated upon the hill.
The brooding gloom of the forest was profound.
The dark green foliage of the pines seemed black by
contrast with the snow, and gazing in amongst the
leafless lower trunks was like peering into a world of
dayless night The horses walked with ears pricked
and wistful eyes alertly gazing. The darkness of
their surroundings seemed to have conveyed something
of its mysterious dread to their sensitive nerves.
Tired they might be, but they were ready to shy at
each rustle of the heavy branches, as some stray
breath of air bent them lazily and forced from them a
creaking protest.</p>
<p>As the traveller neared the summit the trail
narrowed down until a hand outstretched from the
conveyance could almost have brushed the tree-trunks.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_113' name='page_113'></SPAN>113</span></div>
<p>Grey’s eyes were upon his horses and his thoughts
were miles away. Ahead of him gaped the opening
in the trees which marked the brow of the hill against
the skyline. He had traversed the road many times
on his way to Loon Dyke Farm and knew every foot
of it. It had no beauties for him. These profound
woods conveyed nothing to his unimpressionable
mind; not even danger, for fear was quite foreign to
his nature. This feeling of security was more the
result of his own lofty opinion of himself, and the
contempt in which he held all law-breakers, rather
than any high moral tone he possessed. Whatever
his faults, fear was a word which found no place in
his vocabulary. A nervous or imaginative man
might have conjured weird fancies from the gloom
with which he found himself surrounded at this point.
But Leslie Grey was differently constituted.</p>
<p>Now, as he neared the summit of the hill, he leant
slightly forward and gathered up the lines which he
had allowed to lie slack upon his horses’ backs. A
resounding “chirrup” and the weary beasts strained
at their neck-yoke. Something moving in amongst
the trees attracted their attention. Their snorting
nostrils were suddenly thrown up in startled attention.
The off-side horse jumped sideways against its companion,
and the sleigh was within an ace of fouling
the trees. By a great effort Grey pulled the animals
back to the trail and his whip fell heavily across their
backs. Then he looked up to discover the cause of
their fright. A dark figure, a man clad in a black
sheepskin coat, stood like a statue between two
trees.</p>
<p>His right arm was raised and his hand gripped a
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_114' name='page_114'></SPAN>114</span>
levelled pistol. For one brief instant Grey surveyed
the apparition, and he scarcely realized his position.
Then a sharp report rang out, ear-piercing in the
grim silence, and his hands went up to his chest and
his eyes closed.</p>
<p>The next moment the eyes, dull, almost unseeing,
opened again, he swayed forward as though in great
pain, then with an effort he flung himself backwards,
settling himself against the unyielding back of the
seat; his face looked drawn and grey, nor did he
attempt to regain the reins which had dropped from
his hands. The horses, unrestrained, broke into a
headlong gallop; fright urged them on and they
raced down the trail, keeping to the beaten track
with their wonted instinct, even although mad with
fear. A moment later and the sleigh disappeared
over the brow of the hill.</p>
<p>All became silent again, except for the confused,
distant jangle of the sleigh-bells on the horses’ backs.
The dark figure moved out on to the trail, and
stood gazing after the sleigh. For a full minute
he stood thus. Then he turned again and swiftly
became lost in the black depths whence he had so
mysteriously appeared.</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_115' name='page_115'></SPAN>115</span>
<SPAN name='CHAPTER_VIII_GREYS_LAST_WORDS' id='CHAPTER_VIII_GREYS_LAST_WORDS'></SPAN>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />