XX
THE RIGHT TRACK
It was a clear night and although the moon was low its light touchedthe wet road as Foster walked down the dale. He had much to thinkabout and tried to fix his mind on his main object. It would have beendelightful to dwell upon Alice's interposition on his behalf, but hemust not attach too much importance to this yet; after all she mighthave been actuated mainly by a love of justice. Besides, the sooner hekept his promise, the sooner he would be able to ask her what she hadmeant.
He must find Daly and thought it significant that the fellow's attemptat extortion had not been very determined. If Featherstone was rightabout this, it indicated that Daly suspected that Lawrence was beyondhis reach and had not been at the Garth. It was possible that he hadfound out how he had been misled and meant to look for his victim inCanada. Foster wondered whether he would go without his money, or ifhe had received a share of the plunder before, since the circular checkwas not for a large sum. In any case, it was lucky that Daly hadvisited the Garth when he did, because if he had waited another day, hemight have met Graham, which would have been awkward.
After some thought, Foster decided to act on the supposition that Dalywould return to Canada. Then, dismissing the matter for the time, hespeculated about the possibility of Graham's lurking in theneighborhood and began to look ahead. A stone dyke, broken in places,ran between the winding road and the stream it followed; on the otherside, which lay in shadow, thin birches straggled up a steep hill. Themoon was low and would soon sink behind the trees, when it would bevery dark. When he looked back he could not see the lights of theGarth. He was on the road to the station, and remembered that therewas a train from the south in the evening.
Taking out his watch, he calculated that anybody who left the stationon foot when the train arrived might be expected to reach the Garth inthe next quarter of an hour. This was disturbing, but he saw nothingto cause him alarm as he went on. Now and then a rabbit, startled byhis footsteps, ran across the road, and once or twice an owl hooted asit fluttered overhead. The river splashed among the stones andsometimes the shadows moved as a puff of wind came up the valley; butthat was all. Still Foster quickened his pace; it was some distance tothe village where he knew of an inn, and he wanted to get there beforethe people went to bed. He would not admit that he shrank from beingleft in the dark when the moon sank.
By and by Pete stopped to relight his pipe and uttered an exclamationwhen he put his hand in his pocket.
"I hae lost the guid pooch ye gave me at Hexham," he said. "I mind Ifilled my pipe by the big thorn where the wire fence stops, and themoon's on the road. If ye'll bide or gang on slowly, I'll rin back."
"Never mind it. I'll give you another."
"Na," said Pete. "If ye had been used with an auld tin and had asmairt pooch for the first time, ye wouldna' lea' it in the road.Besides, it was fu' o' a better tobacco than I often smoke."
Foster would sooner have kept him, but was unwilling to admit that hedid not like to be alone. It was not very far to the thorn tree andPete would soon overtake him. He went on, but did not loiter, andnoted how his footsteps echoed along the edge of a wood ahead. Infact, the noise he made rather jarred his nerves, but the grass by theroadside was hummocky and wet. The road was dark beside the wood, forthe moon was near the tops of the black firs, but there were gapsthrough which the silver light shone down.
As he passed the first of the trees he heard a rattle of wings andstopped abruptly. Wood-pigeons were fluttering among the branches, andif he had not disturbed them, there was somebody in the wood. After afew moments, the sound died away, but he stood listening. He could nothear Pete coming, and was sorry he had let him go; the road lookedlonely, and he knew there was no house for some distance. Still, if hehad not frightened the pigeons, it might be unsafe to stay where hewas, and he did not mean to turn back. It was better to be cautious,but he must not give his imagination rein.
Bracing his courage, he went on, a little faster than before butwithout hurrying, and for two or three minutes heard no fresh noise.The wood ran along the road for perhaps a quarter of a mile and he wasnear the middle of it when there was a sharp report and somethingflicked against the wall behind him. He sprang aside instinctively,and then running forward smashed through the rotten fence and plungedinto the wood. The nervous shrinking he had felt had gone. Now he wasconfronted with a danger that was not imaginary, he was conscious ofsavage anger and a fierce desire to come to grips with his treacherousantagonist. His fury was greater because of his previous fear.
The wood was dark and thick. Branches brushed against him and hinderedhis progress, crawling brambles caught his feet. He could hear nothingexcept the noise he made, and as the fit of rage passed away hiscaution returned. He was putting himself at a disadvantage, becausehis lurking enemy could hear him and would no doubt try another shot ifhe came near enough. Stopping behind a fir trunk, with his finger onthe trigger of the Browning pistol, he listened. At first no soundcame out of the dark, but he presently heard a rustle some distanceoff. There was another man in the wood beside the fellow who had firedat him, but so long as he kept still and the others did not know wherehe was, he had an advantage over them. They might expose themselves,and he was a good shot.
He would have liked to wait, but reflected that if he killed ordisabled somebody, he would have to justify his action, and he hadcompromising papers in his pocket. He did not want to destroy thechecks or tell his story to the police yet. Then he noticed that therustling was getting farther away, as if the man was pushing throughthe wood towards the moor behind it, and he turned backhalf-reluctantly to the road. After getting over the fence, he kept onthe wet grass, and had nearly reached the end of the wood when he heardsomebody running behind him. The moon was now behind the firs andtheir dark shadow stretched from fence to wall. It looked as if Petehad heard the shot and was coming to his help, but Foster kept on untilhe was nearly out of the wood, and then stopped, standing against thefence, a yard or two back from where the moonlight fell upon the road.There was no use in running an unnecessary risk.
The steps got nearer; he heard somebody breathing hard, and a figureappeared in the gloom. Then Foster thrust the pistol into his pocket,for the man who came into the moonlight was Gordon, whom he had met atthe Edinburgh hotel.
"Mr. Foster!" he exclaimed breathlessly, but Foster thought he was notsurprised, and sitting on the fence took out a cigarette as calmly ashe could. He had Graham's checks and must be careful.
"Yes," he said. "I didn't expect to see you."
"I imagine it's lucky that you knew me," Gordon remarked, rather dryly."Well, perhaps we ought to have stopped you at the other end of thewood."
"You were watching it then?"
"Both ends. It's obvious now that we should have watched the middle."
"Ah," said Foster thoughtfully; "then you knew somebody was hidingamong the trees?"
"We thought it very possible."
"Well, you know I was shot at, but I imagine the fellow got away. Doyou mean to let him go?"
Gordon laughed. "My friends tell me I'm getting fat, and I'm certainlynot so vigorous as I was. Besides, it's not my part of the business tochase a suspected person across the hills, and I have men able to do itbetter than I can. But you stopped as you entered the wood. Did youexpect to be shot at?"
"I thought it very possible," Foster answered dryly.
"A fair retort! You were shot at. Were you nearly hit?"
"I believe the fellow would have got me if he'd used a gun instead of apistol; but the former would, of course, have been a conspicuous thingto carry about."
"That's true," Gordon agreed. "But, after escaping, why did you stophere and run the risk again?"
Foster pondered. There was no sign of Pete, but he thought the lattercould be trusted to elude the police, and did not want to let Gordonknow he had felt it necessary to provide himself with a bodyguard.Something of this kind would be
obvious if he stated that he waswaiting for a companion.
"Well," he said, "it's annoying to be shot at, and when I heardsomebody running I thought I might catch the fellow off his guard. Yousee, I had already gone into the wood to look for him."
"But you must have known that it would have been very rash for the manwho fired the shot to run noisily down the middle of the road."
"I suppose I was rather excited and didn't remember that," Fosterreplied.
Gordon said nothing for a few moments and Foster saw that he had beenfencing with him. He had admitted that he had partly expected to beattacked, and the other knew of the danger to which he had beenexposed. This was puzzling; but it was lucky the man had not asked hisreasons for fearing an attack. Foster believed he had not omitted todo so from carelessness.
Then Gordon said, "I must try to find out what my men are doing. Whereare you going to stop tonight?"
Foster told him and he nodded. "I know the inn and will call there assoon as I can. Leave your address if you go before I come."
He went away up the road and Foster, setting off again, had gone abouta mile when he heard steps behind him. Soon after he stopped Pete cameup.
"Ye're no' hurt?" he asked.
Foster said he was uninjured, and when he asked where Pete had been thelatter grinned.
"Up the hill and sitting in a wet peat-hag. There was a polisman whoran better than I thought an' it wasn'a a'thegither easy getting clearo' him."
"But why did the policeman run after you?"
"Yon's a thing I dinna' exactly ken, but when I was coming doon theroad I heard a shot and saw ye break intil the wood. Weel, I thoughtthe back o' it was the place for me, and I was follying the dyke, quietand saircumspect, when a man jumped ower and took the heather. He hada stairt, but the brae was steep, and I was thinking it would no' belong before I had a grup o' him when the polis cam' ower the dykebehind. Then I thought it might be better if I didna' interfere, andmade for a bit glen that rins doon the fell. When I saw my chance Islippit oot and found the peat-hag."
Foster knitted his brows. It looked as if Pete had drawn the policeoff his antagonist's track, which was unfortunate; but Gordon hadevidently been watching the fellow, who would now have enough to do tomake his escape. How Gordon came to be watching him required somethought, but Foster need not puzzle about this in the meantime. ThatGraham or his accomplice had thought it worth while to risk shootinghim in order to recover the checks showed Foster that he was on theright track. Their importance did not depend on their money value;Graham meant to get them back because they were evidence of a crime.It was satisfactory to think there was not much probability of thefellow's meeting Daly, who would have an additional reason for leavingthe country if he heard what had happened.
After walking some distance, he came to a straggling village, andalthough he had to knock for a few minutes was admitted to the inn.Somewhat to his surprise, Gordon did not follow him, and finding thatthere was a train to Carlisle next morning, he gave the name of a hotelthere and went to the station. He had done what Gordon told him, butdid not mean to stop at the hotel long.
As the train ran down Liddesdale he sat in a corner, thinking. Thefast Canadian Northern boats sailed from Bristol, and Daly might choosethat port if he were suspicious and meant to steal away; but Liverpoolwas nearer and there were more steamers to Montreal. Foster thought hecould leave this matter until he reached Carlisle and got a newspaperthat gave the steamship sailings. In the meantime he must decide whatto do with Pete, and admitted that he would be sorry to part with theman, although he would not be of much help in the towns, and theircompanionship might make him conspicuous.
"I almost think I had better let you go at Carlisle," he said.
Pete looked rather hard at him, and then asked: "Have I earned mymoney?"
"Yes," said Foster, "you have earned it well."
"Then, if ye have nae great objection, I'd like to take pairt in theshape o' a third-class passage to Western Canada, where ye come from.I hear it's a gran' country."
"It's a hard country," Foster answered. "You had better not be rash.There's not much poaching yonder; the game, for the most part, belongsto the State. and the laws about it are very strict."
"There's no' that much profit in poaching here; particular when ye paya smart fine noo and then. For a' that, I wouldna' say but it's betterthan mony anither job, if ye're lucky."
"You ought to make a good hill shepherd."
"Verra true, an' I might make a good plooman, and get eighteenshillings or a pound a week for either. But what's yon for a man'swork frae break o' day till dark? An', mind ye, it's work that needsskill."
"Not very much," Foster agreed.
"Weel," said Pete, rather diffidently, "I thought ye might have someuse for me, if ye've no' finished the business ye are on."
Foster doubted if Pete could help him much in Canada, since he did notexpect to chase Daly through the woods. The man, however, had beenuseful and might be so again; then he had talents which, if rightlyapplied, would earn him much more in Canada than five dollars a week.
"If you mean to come, I'll take you," he said. "If I don't want youmyself, I think I can promise to give you a good start."
Pete gave him a grateful glance, and Foster was silent while the trainran down the valley of the Esk. On reaching Carlisle, he went to thehotel he had named and asked for a room, but did not sign the visitors'book. He spent the afternoon watching the station, and then went tothe Eden bridge, where the road to Scotland crossed the river. Dalyhad a car and might prefer to use it instead of the rather infrequenttrains.
Foster did not know where the fellow was, but he had been at the Garthtwo days ago, and, if Featherstone's firmness had given him a hint,might before leaving the country revisit Peebles and Hawick, whereFoster had left him the first clew. Daly was not the man to act on ahasty conclusion without trying to verify it, and Lawrence's suit-casewas still at Peebles. It was possible that he had already gone south,but there was a chance that he had not passed through Carlisle yet andFoster durst not neglect it.
Dusk was falling when he loitered about the handsome bridge. Lightsbegan to twinkle in the gray bulk of the castle across the park, andalong the Stanwix ridge, which rose above the waterside to the north.The gleam faded off the river, but it was not quite dark and there wasnot much traffic. Daly did not come and Foster, who was getting cold,had begun to wonder how long he should wait when a bright light flashedout at the top of the hill across the bridge.
A car was coming down the hill and Foster stopped behind a tramwaycable-post and took out his pipe as if he meant to strike a match.Just then a tram-car rolled across the bridge and the motor swervedtowards the spot where he stood. It passed close enough for him tohave touched it, and he saw Daly sitting beside the driver, and twoladies behind. He could not distinguish their faces, for the car spedacross the bridge and a few moments later its tail light vanished amongthe houses that ran down to the river.
Foster set off after it as fast as he could walk. Daly would not go tothe station, because there was no train south for some time, and thetwo hotels where motorists generally stayed were not far off. Still hemight drive through the town, making for Kendal or Lancaster, in whichcase Foster would lose him. The car was not in the first garage, andhe hurried to the other, attached to his hotel. He found the car,splashed with mud which the driver, whom he had seen at Hawick, waswashing off.
"I want some petrol, and you had better leave me a clear road to thedoor," the man said to a garage hand. "I expect we'll be out first inthe morning, because we mean to start as soon as it's light."
Foster had heard enough, and quickly went away. Daly meant to stop thenight, and he must decide what to say to him. He was moreover curiousabout his companions.
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