<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
<h3>THE AVENGER</h3>
<p>Alice was standing at the gate of the little front
garden. She was talking to her lover, who had just
ridden up from the direction of Owl Hoot. Robb
had not dismounted, and his face was very serious
as he leant down towards her.</p>
<p>“And I never knew a word about it. It’s a jolly
good thing I obtained the delivery of his bunch of
cattle when I did, or goodness knows what would
have happened. Well, anyhow I’ve lost a nice lump.
My client, when he heard about the place being for
sale, wanted to buy it for a back country for his
beeves to winter in. Just my confounded luck. I knew
there was a big fire out this way, but I never thought
that Iredale was the unfortunate victim. Now I’ve
got to go over to Lakeville to see him––he’s staying
there, you know, since he was burnt out. I’ll come
back this way, and if Mrs Malling can put me up
for the night, I’ll be grateful. My ‘plug’ won’t stand
the journey back home. You say Hervey will be
along this evening?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied the girl Then seriously, “What
are you going to do?”</p>
<p>“Interview him. There are things about that dog
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_322' name='page_322'></SPAN>322</span>
that want explaining. I take it he can explain ’em.
I don’t easily forget. And I owe some one a deal
more than I’ve yet been able to pay. P’r’aps that
dog’ll help me to discharge my debt. Good-bye, Al;
I must be off or I shan’t get back this afternoon.”</p>
<p>Robb turned away in his cheerful, debonair
manner and rode off. Troubles sat lightly on his
stout heart. His effervescent nature never left him
long depressed when Fortune played her freakish
tricks upon him. He had lost his commission upon
the sale of Iredale’s land, but he had secured the
better deal of the cattle. Therefore he was satisfied.
But Robb was a very persistent man in his seemingly
haphazard fashion. He had promised himself an
interview with Hervey about his dog. He had never
forgotten or forgiven the disaster in the mountains,
and he believed that Hervey would be able to set
him on the track of Zachary Smith, whom he felt
certain he had seen at the Winnipeg depôt. He
hoped so; and, for this purpose, he intended to spend
the night at Loon Dyke Farm.</p>
<p>As her lover rode away Alice turned back to the
house. The anxious look was still upon her face.
She knew that there was serious trouble in the family,
and she could see no way of helping these people she
loved. Prudence was in sad disgrace with her
mother; she had been absent from the farm for
two days and had only returned that morning. Mrs.
Malling had been distracted with anxiety and grief
until the re-appearance of her daughter, and then,
when she saw that she was well and that no accident
had happened to her, she had flown into such a
terrible passion that even Prudence had quailed before
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_323' name='page_323'></SPAN>323</span>
her. Never in her life had Alice seen the kindly
old soul give way to such rage. No disparaging
epithet had been too bad for her child, and she had
literally chased the girl from the room in which they
had met. Since then Prudence had retreated to her
bedroom, and Hephzibah had poured out the vials
of her wrath upon an empty kitchen, for even the
long-suffering hired girl had feared to face her.</p>
<p>Now, as Alice approached the front door again,
she heard the sound of high-pitched voices coming
from the kitchen. Sarah Gurridge had come over
while the farm-wife’s rage was at its height; and, as
Alice listened, she thought that these two old cronies
were quarrelling. But her ears quickly told her that
her surmise was wrong. She heard Prudence’s voice
raised in angry protest, and, instead of entering the
house, she discreetly withdrew, passing round to the
farmyard instead.</p>
<p>In the kitchen a stormy scene was being enacted.</p>
<p>Prudence was standing just inside the door. Her
mother was beside a long table on which were laid
out the necessaries for pastry-making. She had
faced round upon the girl and stood brandishing a
rolling-pin in one hand, and in the other she held
a small basket of eggs. Sarah was seated in a high-backed
Windsor chair. Her arms were folded across
her waist, and her face expressed perplexed alarm.
Prudence’s face was aflame; nor were her eyes one
whit less angry than her mother’s.</p>
<p>“But I say you shall hear me, mother, whether
you like it or not. I’ll not let you or any one else
call me the filth which you did this morning for
nothing.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_324' name='page_324'></SPAN>324</span></div>
<p>The girl’s voice was hoarse with nervous feeling,
Mrs Mailing shook her rolling-pin in a perfect fury.</p>
<p>“Out of this kitchen, you baggage! Out of it, do
you hear me? Go an’ get your garments packed up,
and out ye go into the street. Child o’ my flesh, are
ye? Out of my house, you drab, or maybe I’ll be
doing you a harm. I’ll teach the like o’ you to be
stoppin’ out o’ nights an’ then to come back wi’out
a word of explainin’. I’ll teach you.”</p>
<p>“Give the child a hearing, Hephzibah,” said Sarah,
in her soft even tones, as there came a lull in the
angry mother’s tirade.</p>
<p>Prudence shot a grateful glance in her preceptor’s
direction.</p>
<p>Hephzibah turned swiftly on the peaceful Sarah.
But the words of anger which hovered upon her
lips remained unspoken. Sarah was an influence in
the old lady’s life, and long association was not
without effect. She visibly calmed. Prudence saw
the change and took advantage of it.</p>
<p>“How could I explain when you wouldn’t listen
to me?” she exclaimed resentfully. “Almost before
I could say a word you called me all the shameful
things you could think of. You drove me to silence
when I was willing to tell you all––I was more than
willing. You <i>must</i> know all, for the story I have to
tell as nearly affects you as it does me. I stayed
away from home to save an innocent man from the
dreadful charge of murder, and your son from perpetrating
the most wanton act of his worthless life.”</p>
<p>A dead silence followed her words. Hephzibah
stared at her with an expression of stupefied amazement,
while Sarah turned in her chair with a
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_325' name='page_325'></SPAN>325</span>
movement which was almost a jolt. The silence
was at last broken by the girl’s mother.</p>
<p>“Murder? Hervey?”</p>
<p>And there was no understanding in her tone.
Her mind seemed to be groping blindly, and she
merely repeated the two words which struck her
most forcibly.</p>
<p>“Yes, ‘murder’ and ‘Hervey,’” Prudence retorted.
“Hervey has accused George Iredale of the murder
of Leslie Grey. Now will you listen to my
explanation?”</p>
<p>Hephzibah precipitated herself into a chair. The
rolling-pin was returned to its place upon the dough-board
with a clatter, and the basket of eggs was set
down with a force that sorely jeopardized its contents.</p>
<p>“Yes, girl. Tell me all. Let me hear what devil’s
work my Hervey’s been up to. La sakes! an’
George Iredale a murderer!”</p>
<p>And Prudence, her anger evaporated as swiftly as
her mother’s, told the two old ladies of her love for
Iredale, and how he had asked her to be his wife.
She told them how Hervey had come to her with the
story of his discovery; how, after attempting to
blackmail his victim, he had offered his information to
her at a price. How she forced him to prove his
case, and had sent him to Winnipeg with that object;
how she had been nearly distracted, and eventually
made up her mind to go and see Iredale himself;
how the accused man had established to her his
innocence beyond any doubt, and how he had shown
her how impossible it would be for him to use the
same means of clearing himself in a court of law.
She dwelt upon each point, so that these two, who
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_326' name='page_326'></SPAN>326</span>
were so dear to her, should not fail to understand as
she understood. Then she told them how, recognizing
George’s danger, she had resolved to intercept
Hervey, and, with her mother’s assistance, pay him
off; and, finally, how she had been overtaken by the
forest fire; and how, her mare exhausted, she had
arrived at Damside in time to send her message to
her brother; and how, failing any other means of
returning home, she had taken shelter with the
elevator clerk’s wife until her mare had recovered and
she was able to resume her journey to the farm.</p>
<p>It was a long story, and the many interruptions of
her mother gave the girl much extra trouble in the
telling; but with a wonderful patience, born of her
anxiety for her lover, she dealt with every little
point that puzzled her audience.</p>
<p>When the story was finished its effect was made
curiously manifest. The one thing which seemed to
have gripped her mother’s intensest feeling was the
part her boy had played. Her round eyes had grown
stern, and her comely lips had parted as her breath
came heavy and fast. At last she burst out with a
curious mixture of anger and sorrow in her words.</p>
<p>“Bone of my Silas; flesh of my flesh; an’ to think
o’ the like. My Hervey a whelp of hell; a bloodsucker.
Oh, that I should ha’ lived to see such a
day,” and she rocked herself, with her hand supporting
her head and her elbows planted upon her knees.
“Oh, them travellin’s in foreign parts. My poor,
poor Silas; if he’d jest lived long ’nough to git around
our boy with a horsewhip we might ha’ been spared
this disgrace. Prudence, girl, I’m that sorry for what
I’ve said to you.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_327' name='page_327'></SPAN>327</span></div>
<p>Tears welled in the old eyes, which had now become
very wistful, and slowly rolled down the plump
cheeks. Suddenly she gathered up her apron and
flung it up over her head, and the rocking continued
dismally. Prudence came over to her and knelt at
her side, caressing her stout figure in sympathy.
Sarah sat looking away towards the window with
dreamy eyes. The old school-mistress made no
comment; she was thinking deeply.</p>
<p>“Don’t cry, mother,” said Prudence, with an
ominous catch in her voice. “Whatever Hervey’s
faults, he will reap his own punishment. I want you
to help me now, dear. I want you to give me the
benefit of your experience and your sound, practical
sense. I must see this through. I have a wicked
brother and an obstinate lover to deal with, and I
want you to help me, and tell me what is best to
do.”</p>
<p>The apron was removed from Mrs. Malling’s head,
and her eyes, red and watery, looked at the girl at
her side with a world of love in their depths.</p>
<p>“These two men will be here this afternoon,” the
girl went on. “George is coming to tell you his story
himself, that you may judge him. He declares that,
come what may, he will not rest with this shadow
upon him. In justice to us, his friends, and to himself,
he must face the consequences of his years of
wrongdoing. Hervey will be here for his money.
This is the position; and, according to my reckoning,
they will arrive at about the same time. I don’t
quite know why, but I want to confront Hervey with
the man he accuses. Now tell me what you think.”</p>
<p>“I’m thinking you make the third of a pack of
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_328' name='page_328'></SPAN>328</span>
fool-heads,” said the farm-wife gently. “George is
no murderer, he’s not the killin’ sort. He’s a man, he
is. Then why worrit? An’ say, if that boy o’ mine
comes along he’ll learn that them Ar’tic goldfields is
a cooler place for his likes than his mother’s farm.”
The old woman’s choler was rising again with
tempestuous suddenness. “Say, he’s worse’n a skunk,
and a sight more dangerous than a Greaser. My,
but he’ll learn somethin’ from them as can teach
him!”</p>
<p>“Yes, mother,” replied the girl, a little impatiently;
“but you don’t seem to see the seriousness of what
he charges–––”</p>
<p>“That I do, miss. Am I wantin’ in understandin’?
George is as innocent as an unborn babe, so what’s
the odds along o’ Hervey’s accusin’? It don’t amount
to a heap o’ corn shucks. That boy ain’t responsible,
I tell ye. He’s like to get locked up himself in a
luny ’sylum. I’ll give him accusin’!”</p>
<p>“But, mother, that won’t do any good. He must
be paid off.”</p>
<p>“An’ so he shall––and so he shall, child. There’s
more dollars in this farm than he reckons on, and
they’re ready for usin’ when I say the word. If it’s
pay that’s needed, he shall be paid, though I ain’t
just understandin’ the need.”</p>
<p>Sarah’s voice broke in at this point.</p>
<p>“The child’s right, Hephzibah; there’s money to be
spent over this thing, or I’m no judge of human
nature. Hervey’s got a strong case, and, from what
the story tells us, George is a doomed man if he goes
before the court. Innocent he may be––innocent he
is, I’ll wager; but if he’s obstinate he’s done for.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_329' name='page_329'></SPAN>329</span></div>
<p>The farm-wife made no reply, but sat gazing
wistfully before her.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” Prudence said earnestly. “It is just
the money––nothing more. We must not let an
innocent man suffer. And, ‘Aunt’ Sarah, we must
prevail upon George to let us stop Hervey’s mouth.
That is our chief difficulty. You will help me––you
and mother. You are so clever, ‘Aunt’ Sarah.
George will listen to you. Oh, we must––must save
him, even against himself.”</p>
<p>Sarah nodded her head sagely; she was deeply
affected by all she had heard, but she gave no outward
sign.</p>
<p>“Child,” she replied, “we will all do our best––for
him––for you; but yours is the tongue that will
persuade him best. He loves you, child, and you love
him. He will not persist, if you are set against it.”</p>
<p>“I hope it will be as you say,” replied Prudence
dubiously. “But when he comes you will let him
tell his story in his own way. You will listen patiently
to him. Then you can laugh at his determination
and bring your arguments to bear. Then we will
keep him until Hervey arrives, and we will settle the
matter for ever. Oh, mother, I dread what is to
come.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Mailing did not seem to be paying much heed,
but, as the girl moved away from her side, she spoke.
There was no grief, no anger in her voice now. She
spoke quite coldly, and Sarah Gurridge looked keenly
over at her.</p>
<p>“Yes, girl, we’ll settle this rumpus, and––Hervey.”</p>
<p>Prudence moved towards the door. She turned at
her mother’s words.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_330' name='page_330'></SPAN>330</span></div>
<p>“I will go up-stairs,” she said. “I want to think.”</p>
<p>She opened the door and nearly fell against the
dog Neche, who was standing outside it. There was
a fanciful suggestion of the eavesdropper about the
creature; his attitude was almost furtive. He moved
slowly away, and walked with the girl to the foot of
the stairs, where he laid himself down with a complacent
grunt. The girl went up to her room.</p>
<p>“This day’s doin’s will be writ on my heart for
ever,” said the farm-wife plaintively, as the door closed
behind her daughter.</p>
<p>“An’ see you, Hephzibah, and let no eyes read of
them, for there will be little credit for anyone in those
same doings,” said Sarah solemnly.</p>
<p>Mrs. Malling hugged herself, and again began to
rock slowly. But there were no signs of tears in her
round, dark eyes. Now and again her lips moved,
and occasionally she muttered to herself. Sarah
heard the name “Hervey” pass her lips once or twice,
and she knew that her old friend had been sorely
stricken.</p>
<p>As the time for Iredale’s arrival drew near, Prudence
became restless. Her day had been spent in idleness
as far as her farm work was concerned. She had
chosen the companionship of Alice, and had unburdened
her heart to her. But sympathetic and
practical as her friend was, she was quite unable to
help her.</p>
<p>As four o’clock drew near, however, Alice did the
only thing possible. She took herself off for a walk
down the Lakeville trail. She felt that it was better
for everybody that she should be away while the
trouble was on, and, besides, she would meet her
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_331' name='page_331'></SPAN>331</span>
lover on his way to the farm, and give him timely
warning against making his meditated stay for the
night.</p>
<p>At the appointed hour there came the clatter of a
pacer’s hoofs at the front gate, and a moment later
Prudence led her lover into the parlour. After a few
brief words she hurriedly departed to summon her
mother and Sarah. There was a significant solemnity
in this assembling; nor was it lessened by the smuggler’s
manner. Even the wolfish Neche seemed
impressed with what was happening, for he clung to
the girl’s heels, following her wherever she went, and
finally laid down upon the trailing portion of her
skirt when she took up her position beside her lover
and waited for him to begin.</p>
<p>The opening was a painful one for everybody.
Iredale scarcely knew how to face those gentle folk
and recount his disgraceful story. He thought of
all they had been to him during his long years upon
the prairie. He thought of their implicit trust and
faith in him. He almost quailed before the steady,
honest eyes of the old people. However, he at last
forced himself to his task, and plunged into his story
with uncompromising bluntness.</p>
<p>“I am accused of murder,” he said, and paused,
while a sickly feeling pervaded his stomach.</p>
<p>Mrs. Malling nodded her head. She was too open
to remain silent long.</p>
<p>“Of Leslie Grey,” she said at once. “And ye
needn’t to tell us nothin’ more, George. We know
the yarn you are about to tell us. An’ d’ye think
we’re goin’ to believe any addle-pated scalliwag such
as my Hervey, agin’ you? Smuggler you may be,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_332' name='page_332'></SPAN>332</span>
but that you’ve sunk to killin’ human flesh not even
a minister o’ the Gospel’s goin’ to convince me. Here,
I respects the man I give my hand to. Shake me by
the hand, George––shake me by the hand.” And the
farm-wife rose from her chair and ambled across the
room with her hand outstretched.</p>
<p>Iredale clasped it in both of his. And never in his
life had he experienced such a burst of thankfulness
as he did at that moment. His heart was too full to
speak. Prudence smiled gravely as she watched this
whole-hearted token of her mother’s loyalty to a
friend. Nor was Sarah backward in her expression of
goodwill.</p>
<p>“Hephzibah’s right, George, and she speaks for
both of us. But there’s work to be done for all that.
Hervey’s to be dealt with.”</p>
<p>“To be bribed,” said Hephzibah uncompromisingly,
as she returned to her seat.</p>
<p>Iredale shook his head and his face set sternly.
Prudence saw the look she feared creep into her
lover’s eyes. She opened her lips to protest, but the
words remained unspoken. She had heard the rattle
of a buckboard outside. The sound died away, and
she knew that the vehicle had passed round to the
barn. She waited in an agony of suspense for her
brother’s appearance.</p>
<p>“You needn’t to shake your head,” went on the
farm-wife. “This matter’s my concern. It’s my
dollars as is goin’ to pay Master Hervey––an’
when he gets ’em may they blister his fingers, I sez.”</p>
<p>Prudence heard a footstep in the hall. The crucial
moment had arrived, and her heart palpitated with
nervous apprehension. Before Iredale could reply the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_333' name='page_333'></SPAN>333</span>
door was flung open, and Hervey stood in their midst.
Instantly every eye was turned upon him. He stood
for a moment and looked round. There was a slight
unsteadiness in his attitude. His great eyes looked
wilder than ever, and they were curiously bloodshot.
At least one of the three ladies possessed an observant
mind. Sarah saw that the man had been drinking.
To her the signs, though slight, were unmistakable.
The others did not seem to notice his condition.</p>
<p>“Ah,” he said, with an attempt at pleasantry, “a
nice little party. Well, I’ve come for the dibs.”</p>
<p>His eyes lit upon the figure of George Iredale, and
he broke off. The next moment he went on angrily––</p>
<p>“What’s that man doing in this house?” he cried,
his eyes fairly blazing with sudden rage. “Is the place
turned into a refuge for––murderers?”</p>
<p>The man’s fury had set fire to the powder train.
His mother was on her feet in a twinkling. Her
comfortable body fairly shook in her indignation.
Her face was a flaming scarlet, and her round eyes
sparkled wickedly.</p>
<p>“And who be you to question the calling of my
house, Hervey Malling?” she cried; “since when
comes it that you’ve the right to raise your voice
against my guests? An’ by what right d’ye dare to
accuse an innocent man? Answer me, you imp of
Evil,” she demanded. But she gave him no time to
speak, and went on, her voice rising to a piercing
crescendo. “Spare your wicked tongue, which should
be forked by reason of the lies as has fallen from it.
Oh, that you should be able to call me ‘mother.’ I’d
rather mother the offspring of a rattlesnake than you.
What have you done by us all your life but bring
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_334' name='page_334'></SPAN>334</span>
sorrow an’ trouble upon those who’ve done all that
which in them is to help you? Coward! Traitor!
An’ you come now with lies on your tongue to harm
an innocent man what’s done you no harm.” She
breathed hard. Then her wrath swept on, and the
room rang with the piercing pitch of her voice.
“You’ve come for your blood-money––your thirty
pieces. You villain; if your poor father were alive
this day he should lay a raw hide about you till
your bones were flayed. Sakes! I’ve a mind to set
about you myself. Look at him, the black-heart!
Look at him all! Was ever such filth of a man? and
him my son. Blood-money! Blood-money! And
to think that I’m living to know it.”</p>
<p>She paused. Hervey broke in––</p>
<p>“Silence, you old fool! You don’t know what
you’re talking about. That man,” pointing over at
Iredale, who sat waiting for an opportunity to interfere,
“is the murderer of Leslie Grey. I suppose he
has been priming you with blarney and yarns. But
I tell you he murdered Grey. I’m not here for any
tomfoolery. I got Prudence’s message to say the
money was forthcoming. Where is it? Fifteen
thousand dollars buys me, and that I want at once.
If I have any more yapping I’ll make it twenty
thousand.”</p>
<p>He looked about him savagely, and his eyes finally
paused at George Iredale, seated beside Prudence.
He cared nothing for his mother’s vituperation, but
he was watchful of the smuggler.</p>
<p>Suddenly the burly rancher sprang to his feet. He
stepped up to Hervey. The latter moved a pace
back.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_335' name='page_335'></SPAN>335</span></div>
<p>“Not one cent, you cowardly hound!” he roared.
“Not one cent shall you have; do you hear? I thank
God that I am here to stop you robbing these, your
mother and sister.” Mrs. Malling tried to interfere,
but he waved her back. “I’ve come at the right
time, and I tell you that you shall not take one
cent of the money. I will never leave you lest you
should wheedle it from them. I will spoil your game.
This is what I intend to do. You and I will set
out for Winnipeg to-night, and together we will
interview the Commissioner of Police. Do you understand
me? I have the whip hand now. And I
promise you your silence shall <i>not</i> be bought.”</p>
<p>Prudence interfered.</p>
<p>“Listen to me, George. I implore you not to do
this thing. Hervey can have all he wants––everything.
You are innocent we know, but you cannot
prove your innocence. Why should you break my
heart when there is a way out of the difficulty?
There is but one person who can denounce you, and
his silence we can purchase. Oh, George,” the girl
went on passionately, “as you love me, listen. My
heart will break if this thing you meditate comes
to pass. Oh, my love, say you won’t do it! Let
mother pay the man off that he may pass out of
our lives for ever. See, mother is going for the
money now. It is so easy; so simple.”</p>
<p>Mrs. Mailing had risen from her seat and moved
away to the door. Hervey stood at the far end of
the parlour facing the open window. He saw his
mother pass out, and a great look of satisfaction came
into his eyes. After all, these women meant to treat
him fairly, he thought.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_336' name='page_336'></SPAN>336</span></div>
<p>He grinned over at Iredale.</p>
<p>“Better drop it, Iredale, and don’t play the fool.
When I get the money I shall forget that I ever knew
you.”</p>
<p>The smuggler was about to fire a swift retort when
the sound of voices coming in at the open window
interrupted him. The voices were a man’s and a
woman’s. Prudence recognized Alice’s tones. The
other’s she did not recognize at once.</p>
<p>Sarah Gurridge, who had been a silent observer of the
scene, had heard the sound too, but she was absorbed
in what was being enacted about her. Her eyes were
upon Hervey. She saw him start, and his great
haunting eyes were turned upon the window. Suddenly
he rushed forward towards it. He had to pass
round the table, close to where Prudence was now
standing. In doing so he kicked against the dog,
which was standing with its ears pricked up and its
head turned in the direction whence the voices
sounded.</p>
<p>The man’s evil face was blanched. A wild, hunted
look was in his eyes. Iredale saw, was startled, and
his reply died upon his lips as he wondered at this
sudden change.</p>
<p>“Shut the window. Do you hear?” cried Hervey
excitedly. “Don’t let them hear. Don’t let
them–––”</p>
<p>He had reached the window to carry out his own
instructions. His hands were upon the casements,
and he was about to fling the glass frames together.
But suddenly his arms dropped to his sides. He
stood face to face with the figure of Robb
Chillingwood!</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_337' name='page_337'></SPAN>337</span></div>
<p>There was a dreadful silence. Then slowly Hervey
backed away; his glaring eyes were fixed upon the
stern countenance of the ex-Customs officer. Slowly
he backed, backed from the apparition; and the onlookers
noted the pallid cheeks and blazing eyes, and
they wondered helplessly. Nor did Hervey pause
until he reached the wall furthest from the window.
Then he stood, and his lips silently moved.</p>
<p>Suddenly there was a cry, and it rang with vengeful
triumph. It came from the man at the window––Robb
Chillingwood.</p>
<p>“By God! it’s Zachary Smith!”</p>
<p>The next instant and he was in the room.</p>
<p>The onlookers gazed blankly from one to the other
of the two men. What did it mean? Who was
Zachary Smith? And why did Robb so call Hervey?
Then their eyes settled on the man against the wall.
The cheeks were no longer pallid; they were flushed
with a hectic colouring, and those strange eyes were
filled with an awful, murderous light. The lips
continued to move, but he did not speak; only his
right hand slipped round behind him.</p>
<p>Then Robb’s voice sounded through the room
again.</p>
<p>“So, Mr. Zachary Smith, we meet again. And,
by the Lord Harry, you shall swing for what you
did in the mountains! Highway robbery of the
Government bullion under the charge of Leslie Grey,
and the murder of our Indian guide, Rainy-Moon.”
Then he turned––“Hold that door!” he shouted;
and Iredale sprang to obey.</p>
<p>“But–––” Prudence rushed forward, but Sarah
stopped her and drew her back.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_338' name='page_338'></SPAN>338</span></div>
<p>A wild laugh came from Hervey’s direction.</p>
<p>“And who’s going to take me?” he cried. “You,
Robb Chillingwood, you? Ha, ha!” and his maniacal
laugh rang out again. “Look to yourself, you fool.
Grey crossed my path, and he paid for it with his
life. You shall follow him.”</p>
<p>While his words yet rang upon the air his hand
shot out from behind him, gripping a heavy revolver.
The pistol was raised, and a shriek went up from the
two ladies.</p>
<p>Suddenly there was a rush, a snarl; and a great
body seemed to literally hurl itself through the air.
A shot rang out; simultaneously a cry echoed
through the room; Hervey staggered as something
seized him by the throat and tore away the soft
flesh; another shot followed.</p>
<p>It all happened in a twinkling. Hervey fell to the
ground with a gurgling cry, and Neche, the dog, until
then forgotten by everybody, rolled over by his side
with one dying yelp of pain. Then silence reigned
throughout the room and all was still.</p>
<p>Iredale returned his smoking pistol to his pocket,
and went over to Hervey’s side. His movements
seemed to release the others from the spell under
which they had been held. Robb, unharmed by
Hervey’s shot, came forward, and Sarah and Prudence
followed in his wake. But Iredale waved the ladies
back.</p>
<p>“Stand away, please,” he said quietly. “The dog
had finished him before I got my shot in to save him.
The brute has literally torn his throat out.” Then
he looked over at the dead hound. “It’s awful; I
wonder what made the dog turn upon him?”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_339' name='page_339'></SPAN>339</span></div>
<p>“Are they both dead?” asked Robb, in an awestruck
voice.</p>
<p>Iredale nodded.</p>
<p>“It must have been the sight of Hervey’s levelled
pistol that made the dog rush at him,” said Prudence.
“I’ve seen him do so before.”</p>
<p>“Strange, strange,” murmured Iredale.</p>
<p>“That dog feared firearms,” said Sarah.</p>
<p>“Perhaps he had reason,” observed Robb significantly,
“he only has three sound legs. My God!
And not content with his victims in the mountains,
he–––But, yes, I see it. This man came here without
expecting to meet Grey or me.” Robb broke off
and looked at Prudence. “Of course, I am beginning
to understand. You and Grey were to have been
married.” Then he turned back to the contemplation
of the dead bodies.</p>
<p>“Yes, the murderer of Grey lies confessed,” said
Iredale quietly, “and I think that his motives were
even stronger than those attributed to–––”</p>
<p>Prudence placed a hand over his mouth before he
could complete his sentence.</p>
<p>They were startled from their horrified contemplation
of the work of those last few moments by the
sound of Hephzibah’s voice calling from her bedroom.
The sitting-room door had been opened by
Alice, who had entered the moment Iredale had
released the handle. Now they could hear the farm-wife
moving about overhead, evidently on her way
down-stairs.</p>
<p>Sarah was the first to recover her presence of mind.
She turned upon Robb.</p>
<p>“Not a word to her about––about–––”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_340' name='page_340'></SPAN>340</span></div>
<p>Robb shook his head.</p>
<p>Iredale snatched the pistol from the dead man’s
hand.</p>
<p>Mrs. Malling’s footsteps came creaking down the
stairs. Suddenly Prudence’s hands went up to her
face as she thought of the shock awaiting her mother.
Alice dragged her away to a chair. Iredale and
Robb stood looking down at the two objects on
the floor. Master and hound were lying side by
side.</p>
<p>Sarah ran to the door and met the farm-wife. She
must never know that her son was a murderer––a
double murderer.</p>
<p>Those within the room heard the school-ma’am’s
gentle tones.</p>
<p>“No, no, Hephzibah, you must not go in there yet.
There are things––things which you must not see.
The hound has killed him. Hervey enraged the dog,
and the wretched beast turned upon him––and he is
dead.”</p>
<p>Then there came the sound of a scuffle. The next
moment mother Hephzy pushed her way into the
room. She looked about her wildly; one hand was
clutching a bundle of hundred-dollar bills. Suddenly
her round, staring eyes fell upon the two objects
lying side by side upon the ground. She looked at
the hound; then she looked upon her son. Iredale
had covered the torn throat with pocket-handkerchiefs.</p>
<p>The bills slowly fell in a shower from her hand,
and her arms folded themselves over her breast.
Then she looked in a dazed fashion upon those about
her, muttering audibly.</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_341' name='page_341'></SPAN>341</span></div>
<p>“He’s dead––he’s dead,” she repeated to herself
over and over again. Then suddenly she ceased her
repetitions and shook her head. “Mussy-a-me, mussy-a-me!
The Lord’s will be done!”</p>
<p>And she slowly fell in a heap by her dead son’s
side.</p>
<hr class='toprule' />
<SPAN name='IN_CONCLUSION' id='IN_CONCLUSION'></SPAN>
<h3>IN CONCLUSION</h3>
<p>Time, the great healer of all sufferings, all sorrows,
can do much, but memory clings with a pertinacity
which defies all Time’s best efforts. Time may
soften the poignancy of deep-rooted sorrow, but it
cannot shut out altogether the pain of a mother’s
grief at the loss of an only son. In spite of all
Hervey’s crimes he was “the only son of his mother,
and she was a widow.” The story of his villainies
was rigidly kept from her, and so she thought of him
only as a prodigal, as a boy to be pitied, as one whose
offences must be condoned; she sought for his good
points, and, in her sweet motherly heart, saw a
wonderful deal in him on which to centre her loving
memory, which, had he lived, even she could never
have discovered. It is something that erring man has
to be humbly grateful for, that women are like this;
so full of the patient, enduring love which can see no
wrong in the object of their affections.</p>
<p>But Loon Dyke Farm became intolerable to Hephzibah
Malling after the ghastly tragedy of her son’s
death; and when Robb and Alice saw fit to marry,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_342' name='page_342'></SPAN>342</span>
urged on to that risky experiment by the two older
ladies, she insisted upon leasing the place to them on
ridiculously easy terms. She would have given it to
them only for their steady refusal to accept such a
magnificent wedding gift from her.</p>
<p>The old lady was rich enough for her needs and
her daughter’s, and, business woman as she was, she
was generous to a fault where her affections were concerned.
Prudence too was satisfied with any arrangement
which would take her away from the farm.
Knowing what she knew of her brother, Loon Dyke
could never again be her home. So mother and
daughter retired to Ainsley, and only once again did
they return to their old home on the briefest of visits,
and that was to assist at the function of christening
the son and heir of the Chillingwoods.</p>
<p>Later on Prudence induced her mother to make
Winnipeg her home, but though, for her daughter’s
sake, she acceded to the request, she was never quite
at ease among her new surroundings. Nor was Sarah
Gurridge, when she visited her old friend during her
holidays, slow to observe this. “My dear,” she told
Alice, one day after her summer vacation, “Hephzibah
is failing fast. She’s quite old, although she is
my junior by two years and three months. An idle
life doesn’t suit her; and as for Prudence, she wears
fine clothes, and goes out in society all day and most
of the night, but she’s that thin and melancholy that
you wouldn’t know her for the same child. It’s my
opinion that she’s pining––they are both pining. I
found a letter from Hamilton when I got back home.
It was from George Iredale, and I’m going to answer
it at once.”</p>
<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_343' name='page_343'></SPAN>343</span></div>
<p>“And what are you going to say in your reply?”
laughed Alice. “I know your matchmaking propensity.
So does Robb.”</p>
<p>The quiet, dreamy face of the old school-mistress
smiled over at the happy mother.</p>
<p>“Say?” she exclaimed. “I’m going to give
George a piece of my mind for staying away so long.
I know why he’s doing so, and my belief as to the
cause of his absence is different from what Prudence
is beginning to imagine. She thinks he has left her
because of her brother’s doings, and it’s that that’s
driving her to an early grave. I shall certainly tell
George what I think.” And Sarah wagged her head
sagely.</p>
<p>And she was as good as her word. She had not
seen fit to tell Alice that she had been in constant
communication with George Iredale ever since the
day of the tragedy, or that she was in his confidence
as regarded Prudence. George had left the district
to give both Prudence and her mother time to recover
from the shock. And now that a year or more had
passed away, he had written appealing to Sarah to
tell him if she thought the time auspicious for his
return.</p>
<p>In a long, carefully-worded letter Sarah advised
him not to delay.</p>
<p>“By dint of much perseverance,” she wrote, “I have
persuaded the child out of her absurd notions about
the reflections her brother’s doings have cast upon
her. She looks at things from a healthier standpoint
now. Why should she not marry? What has she
done to debar her from fulfilling the mission which
is appointed for every woman? Nothing! And I
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_344' name='page_344'></SPAN>344</span>
am sure if a certain man should return and renew the
appeal which he made at the time when the Lord’s
anger was visited upon her brother, she would give
him a different reply. However, I must not waste all
my space upon the silly notions of a child with a
misdirected conscience.”</p>
<p>And how her letter bore fruit, and how George
Iredale returned and sought Prudence in the midst
of the distractions of Winnipeg’s social whirl, and
how the girl’s answer, when again he appealed to her,
turned out to be the one Sarah had prophesied for
him, were matters of great satisfaction to the sage old
school-mistress.</p>
<p>She assisted at the wedding which followed, she
saw the bride and bridegroom off at the railway depôt,
she remained to console her old friend for the loss of
her daughter. Then she hied her off once more, back
to the bleak, staring school-house, where she continued
to propound sage maxims for the young of the district
until her allotted task was done, and the tally
of her years complete.</p>
<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />