<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
<h3>A STAB IN THE DARK</h3>
<p>Mrs. Malling fumbled her glasses out of her
pocket and adjusted them on her nose. She had
paused in her work to receive her letters, which had
just been brought from Lakeville. The girls stood
by waiting to learn the news.</p>
<p>The summer kitchen was stifling hot. The great
cook-stove, throwing off a fearful heat, helped to
heighten the brilliancy of the farm-wife’s complexion,
and brought beads of perspiration out upon her
forehead. Prudence and Alice looked cool beside
“Mother Hephzy,” but then they were never allowed
to do any work in the kitchen. Mrs. Malling loved
her kitchen better than any part of the house. She
had always reigned supreme there, and as long as she
could work such would always be the case.</p>
<p>Now she was preparing the midday meal for the
threshing gang which was at work in the fields.
Great blocked-tin canteens stood about upon the floor
waiting to receive the hot food which was to be sent
down to the workers. Hephzibah was a woman of
generous instincts where the inner man was concerned.
The wages she paid were always board wages, but no
hired man was ever allowed to work for her and pay
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_241' name='page_241'></SPAN>241</span>
for his keep. She invariably insisted that every
labourer should be fed from her kitchen, and she took
care that his food was the best she could provide.</p>
<p>“Alice, girl,” the old lady said, as she tore open the
first letter, “go and see if Andy is hitching-up yet.
Tell him that the dinner boxes will be ready in
quarter-hour. Maybe you’ll find him in the bean
patch, I sent him to gather a peck o’ broad beans.
Who’s this from?” she went on, turning to the last
page of her letter to look at the signature. “H’m––Winnipeg––the
bank. Guess I’ll read that later.”</p>
<p>Alice ran off to find Andy, and Mrs. Malling picked
up another envelope.</p>
<p>“Prudence, my girl,” went on the farm-wife, as
soon as Alice’s back was turned, “just open that
other,” pointing to a blue envelope. “The postmark
reads Ainsley. I take it, it’s from young Robb
Chillingwood. Maybe it’s to say as he’ll be along
d’rectly.”</p>
<p>Prudence picked the last letter up.</p>
<p>“It is hot in here, mother; I wonder you can stand
it.”</p>
<p>Her mother looked up over her spectacles.</p>
<p>“Stand it, child? It’s a woman’s place, is the
kitchen. I can’t trust no one at the stove but myself.
I’ve done it for over forty summers, an’ I don’t
reckon to give it up now. This is from that p’lice
feller. He ain’t doing much, I’m thinking. Seems to
me he spends most of his time in making up his bills
of expenses. Howsum, you look into it. What’s
Master Robb say?”</p>
<p>She put her glasses back into their broad old-fashioned
case and turned back to the stove. She
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_242' name='page_242'></SPAN>242</span>
could never allow anything to keep her long from her
cooking. She lifted a lid and stabbed her cooking
fork gently into a great boiler full of potatoes. Then
she passed round to the other side and shook up the
fire.</p>
<p>“Oh, what a shame, mother! Won’t Al be disappointed?
Robb can’t come out here, at least not to
stay.” Prudence had finished her letter and now
looked disappointedly over at her mother.</p>
<p>“And how be that?” asked the old lady, standing
with a shovel of anthracite coal poised in her hand.</p>
<p>“He says that the rush of emigrants to the district
keeps him at work from daylight to dark. It’s too
bad. Poor old Al!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Malling dumped the coal into the stove with a
clatter and replaced the circular iron top. She said
nothing, and Prudence went on.</p>
<p>“He’s coming out this way on business shortly, and
will call over here if possible. But he can’t stay.
Says he’s making money now, and is writing to Al
and giving her all particulars. I <i>am</i> sorry he can’t
come.”</p>
<p>“Well, well; maybe it’s for the best,” said her
mother, in a consolatory manner. “Seemingly his
coming would only ’a caused bickerings with Hervey,
and, good-sakes, we get enough of that now. I’m not
one for underhand dealings, but I’m thinking it would
be for the best not to say anything to your brother
about his coming at all. If he asks, just say he can’t
come to stop. I’d sooner keep Hervey under my eye.
If he goes off, as he said, you never know what mischief
he’ll be getting up to. He just goes into Winnipeg
and gets around with them scallywags, and––and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_243' name='page_243'></SPAN>243</span>
you never know. I have heard tell––though he never
lets on––as he’s too fond o’ poker. Leastways, I do
know as he spends more money than is good for him.
Sarah and me was talking only the other day.
Sarah’s pretty ’cute, and she declares that he’s got
gaming writ in his lines. Maybe it’s so. I’ll not dispute.
He won’t have no excuse for leaving now.”
And she sighed heavily and took up the vegetables
from the stove.</p>
<p>Alice returned, and the sound of wheels outside
told the farm-wife that the buckboard was ready for
the men’s dinner.</p>
<p>The two girls and the old lady portioned out the
food into the great canteens, and Andy lifted them on
to the buckboard. Then the choreman drove away.</p>
<p>By the time the farm dinner was ready Alice had
quite got over her disappointment. Prudence had
told her the contents of the letter, and also her
mother’s wishes on the subject. Alice was naturally
too cheerful to think much of the matter; besides, she
was glad that Robb’s business was improving.</p>
<p>Hervey came up from the fields in Andy’s buckboard.
He always came home for his dinner, and to-day
he brought an atmosphere of unwonted cheerfulness
with him. He had spent much thought and consideration
upon his relations with George Iredale, and
the result of his reflections was displayed in his
manner when he returned from the fields. Never in
his life had he held such a handful of trumps. His
hand needed little playing, and the chances of a cross
ruff looked to him remote.</p>
<p>After the meal he went out to the barn, where he
smoked for awhile in pensive solitude. He thought
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_244' name='page_244'></SPAN>244</span>
long and earnestly, and was so absorbed that he looked
up with a start at the sound of his mother’s voice
calling to him from the open kitchen window.</p>
<p>“Bestir yourself, Hervey, boy. There’s work to be
done down in the fields, which is your share in the
day’s doings.”</p>
<p>And the man, removing the pipe from his mouth,
forgot to grumble back a rough retort, and answered
quite cheerfully––</p>
<p>“All right, mother. Is Prudence there?”</p>
<p>“Where should she be, if not?” replied his mother,
turning back from the window to tell his sister that
she was wanted.</p>
<p>Prudence came out. Hervey watched her as she
approached. He could not but admit to himself the
prettiness of her trim figure, the quiet sedateness of
her beautiful, gentle face. Gazing intently, he failed
to observe the faint shadow in the expression of her
soft brown eyes. There was no sympathy in his
nature, and without sympathy it would have been impossible
to read the expression. But Prudence was
feeling a little sad and a little hurt. Iredale had not
fulfilled his promise. Two days had passed since he
had told her that he loved her and had asked her to
be his wife; nor, since then, had he been over to the
farm, nor had she heard a word from him.
Fortunately, she told herself, she had said nothing of
what had passed between them, not even to her friend
Alice; thus she was spared the sympathy of her
friends. She had waited for his coming with a world
of eager delight in her heart, and each moment of the
day on which he was to have come to see her mother
had been one of unalloyed happiness to her. Then as
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_245' name='page_245'></SPAN>245</span>
the evening drew on she became anxious. And again
as night came, and still no sign from him, her anxiety
had given place to alarm. That night she slept little,
but she kept her trouble to herself. Alice was all
eagerness to ask questions of her friend, but Prudence
gave her no opportunity. The next morning a note
had arrived. Business detained him, but he would be
over at the earliest possible moment. And now the
third day was well advanced and he still remained
away. She did not doubt him, but she felt hurt and a
little rebellious at the thought of his allowing himself
to be detained by business. Surely his first duty was
to her. It was not like him, she told herself; and she
felt very unhappy.</p>
<p>Hervey greeted her with an assumption of kindness,
almost of affection.</p>
<p>“Are you busy, Prue? I mean, I want to have a
little talk with you. I’ve been working in your
interests lately. You may guess in what direction.
And I have made a strange discovery. We haven’t
hit it off very well, I know, but you must forgive me
my shortcomings. I have lived too long in the wilds
to be a pleasant companion. Can you spare me a few
minutes?”</p>
<p>The dark eyes of the man were quite gentle in their
expression, and in the girl’s present state of mind his
apparent kindliness had a strong effect upon her. She
was surprised, but she smiled up into his face with a
world of gratitude. In spite of all, her love for her
brother was very deeply rooted. The simplicity of her
nature and the life she lived made her an easy victim
to his villainous wiles.</p>
<p>“Why, yes, Hervey; as long as you like.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_246' name='page_246'></SPAN>246</span></div>
<p>“Good; I’m going down to the threshing. Will you
walk some part of the way with me? Mother has just
reminded me that my work must not be neglected.
Another two days and we shall be ready for the fall
ploughing.”</p>
<p>The sun was pouring down with fervid intensity.
The yard was very still and quiet. Everything that
had leisure was resting drowsily in the trifling shade
obtainable. The swine had ceased to make themselves
heard and were sleeping upon each other’s abdomens.
The fowls were scratching with ruffled feathers in the
sandy hollows of the parched earth, which they had
made during the hours of morning energy. The
pigeons had departed for the day to the shelter of a
distant bluff. Even the few horses remaining within
the barn were dozing. The dog, Neche, alone seemed
restless. He seemed to share with his master the
stormy passions of a cruel heart, for, with infinite
duplicity, he was lying low, pretending to be occupied
with a great beef shin-bone, while his evil eyes watched
intently the movements of half-a-dozen weary milch
cows, which were vainly endeavouring to reach the
shelter of their sheds. But the dog would not have it.
With a refinement of torture he would allow them to
mouch slowly towards their yard, then, just as they
were about to enter, he would fly into a dreadful
passion, and, limping vigorously at their heels, would
chase them out upon the prairie and then return once
more to his bone, only to await his opportunity of
repeating the operation.</p>
<p>Hervey and Prudence moved away and passed
down the trail. Neche reluctantly left his bone––having
satisfied himself in a comprehensive survey
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_247' name='page_247'></SPAN>247</span>
that no canine interloper was about who could steal
his treasure during his absence––and followed them.
He walked beside the girl without any sign of
pleasure. He was a dog that seemed to find no
joy in his master’s or mistress’s company. He seemed
to have no affection in him, and lived a life of mute
protest.</p>
<p>Hervey did not speak for a few minutes. It was
Prudence who broke the silence.</p>
<p>“I suppose it is something to do with Leslie’s
death that you want to talk to me about. I wondered
what your object was when you questioned me so
closely upon his dying words. Have you discovered
a fresh clue?”</p>
<p>“Something more than a fresh clue.” Hervey had
relapsed into his old moroseness.</p>
<p>“Ah!” The girl’s face lit with an almost painful
eagerness. For a moment her own immediate
troubles were forgotten. A wild feeling surged up
in her heart which set the blood tingling in her veins,
and she waited almost breathlessly for her brother’s
next words.</p>
<p>Hervey displayed no haste. Rather he seemed as
though he would gain time.</p>
<p>“That message or advertisement in the paper.
Did you ever attempt to fathom its meaning? It
was something of a puzzle.”</p>
<p>Prudence gazed up at the dark face beside her.
Hervey was looking down upon the dusty trail. His
look was one of profound thought. In reality he was
calculating certain chances.</p>
<p>“I tried, but failed dismally. To me it conveyed
nothing beyond the fact that its author shot Leslie.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_248' name='page_248'></SPAN>248</span></div>
<p>“Just so. But before I tell you what I have
discovered you must understand the argument. That
line contained a message, a message so significant
that once read with understanding the mystery of
Grey’s death became one that a child might solve.”</p>
<p>“Yes––yes. But the reading of it,” Prudence
exclaimed impatiently.</p>
<p>“It is intelligible to me.”</p>
<p>“And–––”</p>
<p>It was a different girl to the one we have hitherto
seen who awaited the man’s next words. The old,
gentle calmness, the patient, even disposition had
given place to a world of vengeful thought. There
was a look in those usually soft brown eyes which
bore a strange resemblance to her brother’s. A
moment had arrived in her life when circumstances
aroused that other side of her character of which,
perhaps, even she had been ignorant. She learned
now of her own capacity for hatred and revenge.
Some preliminary warnings of these latent passions
had been given when Grey had died, but the moment
had passed without full realization. Now she felt
the ruthless sway of a wave of passionate hatred
which seemed to rise from somewhere in her heart
and creep over her faculties, locking her in an embrace
in which she felt her good motives and love being
crushed out of all recognition. There could be no
doubt as to the resemblance between these two people
in that one touch of nature. Hervey was a long time
in answering. He had not only to tell her of his
discovery, but there were his personal interests to
consider. He wished to re-assure himself of his own
advantage.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_249' name='page_249'></SPAN>249</span></div>
<p>“See here, Prue, what are you offering––or rather,
is mother offering––to that detective chap if he
discovers the murderer of Grey? Let us quite understand
one another. I don’t intend to part with my
discovery for nothing. I want money as badly as
anybody can want it. For a consideration I’ll tell
you, and prove to you, who murdered your man.
Provided, of course, the consideration is sufficiently
large. Otherwise I say nothing.”</p>
<p>For a moment Prudence looked up from beneath
her sun-bonnet into her brother’s face. The scorn
in her look was withering. She had long since
learned the selfish nature of this man, but she had
not realized the full depths to which he had sunk
until now. He would sell his information. And the
thought scorched her brain with its dreadful significance.</p>
<p>“How much will buy you?” she asked at last.
And words fail to express the contempt she conveyed
in her tone.</p>
<p>Hervey laughed in a hollow fashion.</p>
<p>“You don’t put it nicely,” he said. “Ah, how
much will buy me?” he added thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“When a man chooses the methods of Judas it
seems to me there need be no picking or choosing
of words. What do you want? How much?”</p>
<p>His answer came swiftly. He spoke eagerly, and
his tone was quite different from that which his
companion was used to. It was as if some deep
note in his more obscure nature had been struck, and
was now making itself heard above the raucous
jangling of discord by which his life was torn. His
words were almost passionate, and there was a ring
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_250' name='page_250'></SPAN>250</span>
of truth in them which was astonishing, coming from
such a man.</p>
<p>“Look here, Prue, I want to get away from here.
I want to get out upon the world again, alone, to
make my life what I choose. I can’t stand this
place; the quiet surroundings; the people with
whom I come in contact. It isn’t living; it’s existence,
and a hellish one at that. Look around;
prairie––nothing but prairie. In the winter, snow,
endless snow; in the summer, the brown, scorched
prairie. The round of unrelieved, monotonous labour.
Farming; can mind of man conceive a life more
deadly? No––no! I want to get away from it all;
back to the life in which I was my own master,
unfettered by duties and distasteful labours for which
I am responsible to others. From the beginning my
life has been a failure. But that was not originally
my fault. I worked hard, and my ideals were sound
and good. Then I met with misfortune. My life was
my own to make or mar after that; what I chose
to do with it was my own concern. But here I do
not live. I want the means to get away; to make
a fresh start in different surroundings. Sooner or
later I must go, or I shall become a raving maniac.
You can help me in this, even as I can help you in
the cause in which you are now spending and wasting
a lot of money. Get mother to give me fifteen
thousand dollars, not only as the price of my information,
but also to help me, as your brother, to make
another start. I am not wanted here, neither do I
want to remain.”</p>
<p>He ceased speaking. The truth had died out of
his tone when he mentioned the money, and his
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_251' name='page_251'></SPAN>251</span>
words were the specious wheedling of one who knows
the generous kindliness of those with whom he is
dealing. But Prudence gave no heed to anything
but that which found an answering chord in the
passionate emotion which swayed her. Hervey’s
appeal to get away drew from her some slight proportion
of sympathetic understanding, but her main
feeling was a desire to learn the truth which he had
discovered.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes; but the clue––discovery.”</p>
<p>“First, the money. First, you must show me
that you will do this thing for me.”</p>
<p>“I can only answer for myself. I can promise
nothing in mother’s name.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but for yourself. You have an interest in
the farm.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I will give you all I have––all––all––if you
can prove to me, and in a court of law, who was the
man who shot Leslie Grey. I have saved nearly
everything I have made out of creamery. It is not
as large a sum as you require, but I can raise the
rest from mother. You shall have all you ask if you
can tell me this thing. But bear this in mind,
Hervey, you will have to prove your words. I give
you my word of honour that the money will be
forthcoming when you have accomplished this thing.”</p>
<p>Prudence spoke earnestly. But there was caution
in what she said. She did not trust her brother.
And though she was ready to pay almost anything
for the accomplishment of her purpose, she was not
going to allow herself to be tricked.</p>
<p>Hervey didn’t like these stipulations. He had
calculated to extort a price for his information only.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_252' name='page_252'></SPAN>252</span>
The proving of his charge was a matter which would
entail time and trouble, and something else which he
did not care to contemplate; besides, he wanted to
get away. His recollection of his recent interview
with Iredale was still with him. And he remembered
well the rancher’s attitude. It struck him that George
Iredale would fight hard to prove his innocence. He
wondered uncomfortably if he could establish it.
No, he must make a better bargain than the girl
offered.</p>
<p>“See here, Prue, this is a matter of business.
There is no sentiment in it as far as I am concerned.
Your conditions are too hard. You pay me half the
money down when I give you the story. You can
pay the rest when I have carried out your further
conditions. It is only fair. Establishing a case in
the law courts is a thing that takes time. And, besides,
I have known guilty people to get off before
now. I can convince you of the truth of my case.
A jury is different.”</p>
<p>Prudence thought for a moment. They were
already within earshot of the thresher. And the droning
of the machine and the jerky spluttering of the
traction engine sounded pleasantly in the sultry
atmosphere. The dog hobbled lazily at her heels,
nor did he show the least sign of interest in his
surroundings. The wagons loaded with bountiful
sheaves were drawing up to the thresher from half-a-dozen
directions, whilst those already emptied were
departing for fresh supplies. Everywhere was a
wondrous peace; only in those two hearts was an
ocean of unrest.</p>
<p>“Very well. If you can convince me, it shall be as
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_253' name='page_253'></SPAN>253</span>
you say. You shall have the money. The rest shall
remain until after the jury’s verdict. I am not prepared
to give you the money I have saved for any
tale you choose to concoct. Now let me have your
story. You have shown me too much of your sordid
craving to make me a ready believer.”</p>
<p>“You will believe me before I have finished, Prue,”
the man retorted, with a bitter laugh. “You will find
corroboration for what I have to tell in your own
knowledge of certain facts.”</p>
<p>“So much the better for you. Go on.”</p>
<p>In spite of her cautious words Prudence waited with
nerves tingling and with rapidly beating heart for her
brother’s story. She did not know herself. She did
not understand the feelings which swayed her.
Hervey had an easier task than either of them believed.
Of late she had dwelt so long––so intently––upon
the matter under discussion that she was ready
to believe almost anything which offered a solution to
the ghastly mystery. But she did not know this.
Hervey told his story with all the cunning of a man
who appreciates the results which attach to the effect
of his words. He lost no detail which could further
his ends.</p>
<p>“Grey, on his deathbed, alluded to the notice in
the paper. He did so in answer to your question as
to who had shot him?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“He was perfectly conscious?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Some time before he died you and he had discussed
this notice, and he told you he was meditating
a coup in which that notice had afforded him his
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_254' name='page_254'></SPAN>254</span>
principal clue.” The girl nodded, and Hervey went
on. “Grey was a Customs officer. All his works
centred round contraband. No other work came into
his sphere of operations. Very well, the clue which
that notice afforded had to do with some illicit traffic.
The question is, What was the nature of that traffic?
Here is the obvious solution. ‘Yellow booming.’
What traffic is known by such a title as ‘Yellow’ in
this country? There is only one. Traffic in Chinese!
The smuggling of Chinese across the border. And this
traffic was booming. Operations were being successfully
carried out. Where? The rest is easy. Somewhere
in Grey’s district. ‘Slump in Grey’ could only
mean, under the circumstances, that Grey’s supervision
was avoided; that the work was carried out in spite
of him. You know––everybody knows that Chinese
are smuggled into Canada at many points along the
border, and that opium is brought in at the same time.
Thus the poll tax and the opium tax are avoided by
men who make a living out of this traffic. The profit
is worth the risk. There is a fortune in smuggling
opium. The authorities are endeavouring to put it
down. It is well known that our cities are swarming
with Chinese for whom no poll tax has been paid.
And yet the legitimate importation of opium does not
increase. Rather has it decreased in consequence of
the prohibitive tax imposed upon it. Still, these
Chinese must have their opium. This then was the
coup poor Grey meditated. He had discovered a hotbed
of opium smuggling. If he succeeded in rounding
the smugglers up, it meant a great deal to his future
prospects. Is that all plain?”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes; go on.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_255' name='page_255'></SPAN>255</span></div>
<p>The girl’s eyes were gleaming strangely. She
followed every word her brother said with an intentness
which boded well for the result of his efforts.
The careful array of arguments was speciously
detailed. Now she waited for what was still to come
without any attempt at concealing her impatience.
For the time everything was forgotten while she
learned of the murderer of her first love. The peaceful
scene about her was set before eyes which no
longer gazed with intelligence upon their surroundings.
She was back in the farm parlour listening to Leslie’s
story of his hopes––his aspirations. Every detail of
that evening was brought vividly back to her memory.
She remembered, too, that that was the night on
which Hervey had returned. There was a significance
in the thought that was not lost upon her.</p>
<p>Hervey had come to a stand, and Prudence placed
herself before him. Neche squatted beside her, and as
he sat his head reached up to her waist.</p>
<p>“Very well. The question alone remains, who
along the border in this part of the country is
smuggling Chinese? And having found your man,
did he insert the notice in question?”</p>
<p>“Yes––and you–––”</p>
<p>“Chance pointed out the man to me. And I have
ascertained the rest.”</p>
<p>“And who is the murderer of Leslie?”</p>
<p>There was an impressive pause. Hervey gazed
down into the eager upturned face. The dog beside
the girl moved restlessly, and as he moved he made a
curious whining noise. His nose was held high in the
air, and his greenish eyes looked up towards the
spotless sun-bonnet.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_256' name='page_256'></SPAN>256</span></div>
<p>“The owner of Lonely Ranch. George Iredale!”</p>
<p>Hervey turned abruptly away. Neche had moved
a little way back along the trail and stood looking
about him. Then out on the still air rang a piercing,
hysterical laugh. And Prudence stretched out her
arm and clutched at the barbed-wire fence-post as
though her mirth had overcome her.</p>
<p>Hervey looked sharply round upon her. Neche
gave a low growl, the noise seemed to have offended
him; then he limped off down the trail back to the
house.</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_257' name='page_257'></SPAN>257</span>
<SPAN name='CHAPTER_XV_THE_MAGGOT_AT_THE_CORE' id='CHAPTER_XV_THE_MAGGOT_AT_THE_CORE'></SPAN>
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