Part 7 (1/2)
”Wandle is a bit of a rogue,” said Prescott, choosing the safest topic.
”I've told you so.”
”You have. For all that, he's useful and I don't mind being robbed in moderation; I'm a man who's accustomed to losing things.” His half-mocking tone grew serious. ”I wrote to my people, as soon as Colston left, telling them I'd determined to remain in Canada; but if it wasn't for Ellice, I think I'd quit farming.”
Prescott smoked in silence for a while. Jernyngham had made a costly sacrifice, chiefly on the woman's account, and Prescott felt sorry for him.
”Perhaps I'd better get on,” he said after a while.
For a few moments Jernyngham looked irresolute, and then he got up.
”I'll come with you to Sebastian. I think I'd have gone earlier, only Ellice had the horse and rig, and Wandle's using the wagon team. It's no doubt my duty to sue for peace.”
They set out shortly afterward and reaching Sebastian late in the evening drove to the livery-stable, where Jernyngham called the man who took Prescott's team.
”I suppose you have my horse?” he asked.
”Sure,” said the fellow, looking at him curiously. ”Mrs. Jernyngham said we'd better keep him until you came in. She left a note for you with the boss; he's in the hotel.”
Jernyngham crossed the street, followed by his companion, and Prescott noticed that the loungers in the bar seemed interested when they came in.
Two of them put down their gla.s.ses and turned to fix their eyes on Jernyngham, a third paused in the act of lighting his pipe and dropped the match. Then the owner of the livery-stable looked up in a hesitating manner as Jernyngham approached him.
”I believe you have a message for me,” Jernyngham said abruptly.
”That's so,” the man rejoined gravely. ”I'll give it to you outside.”
They left the bar, and when they stood under the veranda, Jernyngham tore open the envelope handed him. A moment later he firmly crumpled up the note it had held.
”When did she leave?” he asked in a harsh voice.
The liveryman regarded him sympathetically.
”By the afternoon East-bound. I'm mighty sorry, Cyril--guess you know it isn't a secret in the town.”
Jernyngham's face grew darkly flushed.
”Then you can tell me whom she went with?”
”The drummer who was selling the separators. Bought tickets through to St. Paul. Told Perkins he wasn't coming back here; nothing doing on this round.”
The man tactfully moved away and Jernyngham turned to Prescott, speaking rather hoa.r.s.ely.
”She's gone--that's the end of it!”
He dropped into one of the chairs scattered about and a few moments later broke into a bitter laugh.
”It would have been more flattering if she had chosen you or Wandle instead of that blasted weedy drummer. Still, there the thing is, and it has to be faced.” Then he surprised his companion, for his voice and expression became suddenly normal. ”Go in and get me a cigar.”
He lighted it carefully when it was brought to him and leaned back in his chair.
”Jack,” he said, ”I've got to hold myself in hand--if I start off on the jag now, it will be a dangerous one. Have you noticed that I've been practising strict abstinence since Colston left?”