<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="break">
<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER IV</h2>
<p class="pch">A PUZZLING SCENT</p>
<p class="drop-cap05"><span class="beg">THE</span> following morning Corporal Bracknell
was early astir, but early as he was there
were others earlier, for the smell of frying
moose-meat reached him before he was dressed.
When he left his room he found Rayner awaiting
him.</p>
<p>“You are early, Corporal,” was the greeting.</p>
<p>“Yes, I thought of going out as far as the place
where we went together last night.”</p>
<p>“What! before breakfast? Surely there is no
need for such haste, and remember there will be
no daylight for at least a couple of hours yet.”</p>
<p>“That is so, but—”</p>
<p>An Indian servant appeared from somewhere in
the rear of the house, bearing a silver coffee-pot on
a tray. Rayner pointed to it with a smile.</p>
<p>“That settles the matter, I fancy. Breakfast is
being served. You will not allow it to spoil, I am
sure.”</p>
<p>“It is a convincing argument,” laughed the corporal.
“I will breakfast first and attend to duty
afterwards.”</p>
<p>Rayner nodded, and led the way into the room
where they had dined on the previous night. Places
were laid for four at the table, but neither Miss
Gargrave nor her foster-sister had yet appeared.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“We are a little early for the ladies,” said Rayner,
seating himself, “but we will not wait for them.
They may breakfast in their room.”</p>
<p>The corporal took his place, and whilst they ate,
conversed with his companion in a desultory kind
of way. Both of them steadily avoided any reference
to the events and conversation of the night
before, and in the course of the meal the policeman
learned a little more about his hostess’ father.</p>
<p>“He was an odd kind of man,” explained Rayner,
when reference had been made to him. “Came of
a good stock in the Old Country, and was one of
the pioneers up here. A man of culture as a glance
round the bookshelves will show you, and a man
of business also. Some of the best mining properties
in the North were secured by him, and unlike many
of the Klondyke millionaires he made his home
here, and he bought, regardless of cost, the old
family estate in England. I think he meant to
return there, with his daughter, some day. But
the hard life of these wild lands had entered into
his blood, and he—”</p>
<p>The sound of a feminine voice outside caught the
officer’s attention, and made him neglect what his
companion was saying. He heard the outer door
open, and close, then hurried steps sounded in the
passage, and two people passed by the room in
which he was seated. The door happened to be
ajar, and the corporal saw that one was his hostess,
and that the other was her companion and foster-sister,
Miss La Farge. They were not late for
breakfast because they had dallied in their rooms;
they had been outside.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>As he realized this a little frown of thoughtfulness
puckered the corporal’s forehead. Why had
they been out at this early hour, and whilst it was
still dark? Rayner noticed his pre-occupation,
and guessing the cause of it, suavely offered an explanation.</p>
<p>“Apparently I was mistaken about my cousin
and Miss La Farge. They are not the sluggards
I thought they were. They have been outside
whilst I thought they were still a-bed.”</p>
<p>“They are very early,” was the reply.</p>
<p>“Yes! There is a silver fox about, and Joy
has a line of traps. She hopes to get it. I understand
that its pelt is rare.”</p>
<p>“Much rarer than it used to be,” agreed the
policeman absently.</p>
<p>The explanation was a plausible one, but he did
not find it satisfactory. He suspected that
something other than a silver fox had taken Joy
Gargrave and her foster-sister into the woods in
the darkness of the morning. He wondered what
it was. Had his hostess missed the note which
he had picked up the night before, and had she
been out to look for it? He did not know, he could
only guess, and wait impatiently for the coming
of dawn.</p>
<p>As soon as the first leaden light showed through
the trees outside he left the house. Rayner offered
to accompany him; but the corporal declined the
offer.</p>
<p>“Thank you, there is no need, Mr. Rayner.
I shall be able to manage what I have to do
alone.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“You think I shall be in the way, Corporal?”
laughed the other.</p>
<p>“I did not say so,” answered Bracknell, “though
of course it is the simple truth that when one has
a knotty thing to solve, solitude and quiet are sometimes
helpful.”</p>
<p>He went out and walked quickly from the house
until he reached the by-path where he had made
his startling discovery of the night before. As
soon as he turned into it, his pace slowed, and he
walked with his eyes fixed upon the ground.
There were many footmarks in the snow, the
most of them stale, as was shown by the powdery
snow which had drifted into them. He recognized
his own tracks of the night before, going and coming
from the point at which he had found Koona Dick,
and there were others apparently made about the
same time, but those which arrested his eyes as
he turned from the main road were a pair of freshly-made
well-marked tracks, too small to have been
made by the feet of men. He nodded to himself
as he saw them, and began to follow them eagerly.</p>
<p>After a couple of minutes walking, he was a
little surprised to find that the double trail that
he was following, turned from the path into the
shadow of the trees. It was still almost dark
here, but as he stooped over the tracks, he became
aware of the fact which seemed to him to be full
of significance. There was a third pair of footprints,
not so recently made as the others, as the
powdering of snow in them showed, and the tracks
that he was trailing apparently followed them. He
stooped and with his hand made a rough measure<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span>
of the stale tracks, and of one set of the fresh
ones, with which they seemed almost identical.
They were the same size, and about the two sets
of impressions were little individual characteristics
which were immediately discernible to the trained
eyes.</p>
<p>“Following her own tracks,” he muttered softly
to himself. “Now, I wonder why?”</p>
<p>He could do no more than guess, and as that was
not a very profitable occupation he continued
his search. The trail that he was following went
but a little way into the forest, and then turned
outward towards the path again, and presently
reached a point at which he came abruptly to a
standstill.</p>
<p>Under a giant spruce, the lower boughs of which
had been cut away at some time or another, was
a medley of tracks, which called for detailed examination.
He stood regarding them for a moment,
and then he looked around him. As he did so
he saw that the trail, which he was following,
moved forward from the huddle of tracks by which
he had paused, and that they led into an open lane
in the trees. He looked again, took a step or
two forward, and then whistled slowly to himself.
He was looking at the place where the body of
Koona Dick had lain. The stained snow was
hidden by freshly drifted snow, the impress of
the body however was still visible, and standing
near it, Corporal Bracknell looked back. There
was a clear line of vision from the place where the
fallen man had lain to the great spruce in the
shadow of which was that huddle of tracks. He<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span>
went back to the spruce, bent over the trampled
snow for a little time, and then standing upright
looked towards the path. Then he nodded his
head.</p>
<p>“She stood just here,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“There’s the mark of her rifle-stock in
the snow, and those deeper tracks show that she
stood waiting a little time. Then when Koona
Dick came, she—But did she?”</p>
<p>As he broke off and asked himself the question
he remembered Joy Gargrave’s face as he had
first seen it when he entered the dining room at
the lodge. It had not looked like the face of a
girl who had quite recently shot a man, and though
he recalled it with that look of terror which it had
worn when he had first seen it, and again with
that troubled look in the eyes when he had explained
that Koona Dick was the criminal that he sought,
he felt that his reasoning and his reading of the trail
must somehow be at fault.</p>
<p>He stood considering the matter for a minute
or two, glancing now and again to the place where
Koona Dick had lain, and the frown which had
came upon his face deepened. Then he recalled
the note which he had picked up on the previous
night and the frown lightened a little.</p>
<p>“Of course!” he whispered to himself, “she
discovered its loss and came out here to look for
it.”</p>
<p>But had she shot the man whom he had hoped
to make his prisoner, the man who unquestionably
had written that note to her? He could not decide,
and as it was too cold to stand still for long together,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span>
he began to walk in a rather wide circle round
the scene of the tragedy. Then he made a fresh
discovery. On the other side of the path he found
other footprints in the snow, and, following the
track, reached a point where the person who had
made them had quite evidently come to a standstill
behind a clump of bushes. Corporal Bracknell
looked through the screen of small branches, and
once more found himself in full view of the place
where Koona Dick had fallen.</p>
<p>The frown on his face deepened once more.
He carefully examined the footmarks behind the
bushes, and decided that they were at least some
hours old. Probably they had been made the night
before, and it was at least possible that the individual
who had made them had witnessed the tragedy
which had taken place.</p>
<p>He began to follow the footmarks from the
point at which they left the bushes, and had gone
but a little way when he found that the trail was
crossed by another almost at right angles, a trail
much more deeply marked and the first sight of
which told him that either the person who had
made it was of very heavy build, or had been bearing
a considerable burden.</p>
<p>Perplexed beyond measure he stared at this new
trail, then he looked round. The tall spruce alone
met his eye. The profound silence of the primeval
North was over all. There was no sound of life
anywhere.</p>
<p>“And yet,” he murmured to himself, “there
were quite a lot of people here last night. What
were they all doing?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Scarcely had the words slipped from him when
he heard some one cough in the shadow of the
wood, a little to the left of him. At once his
bearing became alert. Moving silently from tree
to tree in the direction from which the sound had
come, he reached a point which gave him a view
of an open glade. In the middle of the glade a girl
was standing looking down at the snow. He
recognized her instantly. It was his hostess, Joy
Gargrave.</p>
<p>A minute or two passed and then the girl began
to move down the glade quickly. He waited until
she was out of sight, and himself walked to the
middle of the glade where Joy had stood looking
down at the snow. Instantly he saw what had held
her eyes. A dog team had been halted there.
The marks of the runners were visible in the snow,
even the places where the dogs had waited, half-filled
with new snow, were quite clear. His practised
eyes read the signs without trouble. The team
had entered the glade, had apparently waited there
a little time, and then had turned and departed
in the direction followed by his hostess. Impulsively,
he turned to follow also, but as he did so,
caught sight of footmarks debouching from the
trees in a direct line to the place where the sled
had been halted. They were deeply marked, and
as he recognized instantly were the same as those
which he had been following, when the sound of
the cough had attracted his attention. The person
who had made them had followed a devious path,
making for the glade.</p>
<p>He frowned to himself. The mystery was growing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span>
deeper. But as no solution of the affair offered
itself to his mind, after a little delay he began to
follow the sled tracks down the glade, noting that
side by side with them, were the fresh tracks made
by Joy Gargrave’s moccasined feet.</p>
<p>The glade led out into the main road from the
river to the house, and the sled-tracks turned towards
the river, and then were lost in the hard-packed
snow of the road. But as the sled had manifestly
turned in the direction of the river, Corporal
Bracknell also turned that way, walking quickly
and keeping a sharp look-out on either hand for any
indication of the sled having turned aside.</p>
<p>To or three minutes’ quick walking brought him
in sight of the frozen river, and at the top of the
bank, seated on a fallen tree, he perceived Joy Gargrave.</p>
<p>Her back was towards him, and her bent head
and hunched-up shoulders were eloquent of dejection.
He moved towards her quietly, and as he
drew nearer a flutter of white caught his eye.
It was the corner of a handkerchief which the girl
was holding to her face, and apparently she was
crying. A quick sympathy moved him as he stepped
up to her, the snow deadening his steps.</p>
<p>“Miss Gargrave, you are in trouble. I wonder
if I can be of any assistance?”</p>
<p>Startled by the sound of his voice, the girl looked
up, and for one fleeting moment he had a vision
of the beautiful face, tear-stained, and of the blue
eyes full of trouble. Then the face was hidden
in the handkerchief again, and a succession of sobs<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span>
was the only answer vouchsafed to him. He
stood for a little while in silence, looking down at
the shaking shoulders. His own eyes filled with
sympathetic concern, then he spoke again.</p>
<p>“Please, Miss Gargrave. Let me help. I am
sure your trouble is very grave.”</p>
<p>At that she looked up again, her face expressive
of deep misery.</p>
<p>“I am in deepest trouble,” she said brokenly,
“I do not think that you or any one else can be
of help to me.”</p>
<p>“Tell me,” he urged. “At least let me try.”</p>
<p>She sat for a moment in thought, her eyes veiled
by the long lashes, then she lifted her head and
looked at him as if she would measure his quality.
Then she broke, out impulsively.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she cried, “I will trust you, I will tell
you all. Perhaps you can help me, at least you
can give me advice.”</p>
<p>“Then let us walk,” he said quickly. “You will
freeze if you sit there long.”</p>
<p>He offered her his hand, and as she took it,
their eyes met, and in the corporal’s there flashed
a new light, and as he turned and fell into step
at her side his heart was beating tumultuously, and
his blood was running as if heated with a generous
wine.</p>
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