Part 20 (1/2)

”Isn't it obvious, after what you heard the man admit?”

Muriel stopped, the color creeping into her face, which was filled with anger.

”It's impossible that Mr. Prescott could have had any connection with Cyril's disappearance. It's wicked and cruel to suspect him!”

”You seem strangely convinced of his innocence,” Gertrude retorted with a somber glance at her. ”We shall see by and by whether you or my father is right.”

They walked on slowly, and shortly afterward two mounted figures appeared on the plain. Gertrude watched them draw near, and then turned to her companion.

”The police; we have been expecting them,” she said. ”My father sent a message to the corporal after Prescott had gone.”

”Then he will be deeply ashamed of his harshness before long,” Muriel declared as she abruptly moved away.

Gertrude let her go with a cruel smile. She thought she knew how matters stood, and if the girl were suffering, she had no pity for her. Then she waited until the police trotted by, and afterward walked slowly toward the house. On reaching it, she met Curtis coming out and he asked for a word with her.

”I understand you were the last person to see Prescott when he left this place the other night,” he said.

Gertrude admitted it, watching the man. He looked disturbed, as if he did not know what to think. Private Stanton was sitting in his saddle with an expressionless face a few yards away, but she imagined it was intended that he should hear her answers.

”Well,” Curtis resumed, ”I have to ask what he said to you; anyway, so far as it bears on the business we have in hand. You know why I was sent for?”

Gertrude hesitated. She was very angry with Prescott, and there was a statement he had made which would prove damaging to him if she repeated part of it without the rest. She shrank from this course, but her rancor against the man suddenly grew too strong for her.

”I suppose I must answer that?”

”It's your duty.”

”Then,” she said in a strained voice, ”Mr. Prescott told me he was going away.”

”Going away!” Curtis looked astonished. ”I guess you realize that this is a serious matter. Did he mention when?”

”I understood it would be very soon.” Gertrude looked at the man haughtily. ”That is all I have to tell.”

She went into the house, feeling that she had said enough, and Curtis motioned to his companion and rode away. They had gone some distance when Stanton turned to his superior.

”Pretty significant. What are you going to do about it?” he asked.

”I'll have to apply for a warrant.”

”You certainly will.”

”Well,” Curtis went on, ”this thing isn't quite so simple as it seems. To begin with, it's my idea that Miss Jernyngham hasn't told us all she knows; you want to remember that Prescott's a good-looking fellow with a taking manner. I can see complications, though I can't get the right drift of them.”

”Guess the matter will be worse mussed up if Prescott lights out. Now that Bardsley's gone down the line, you can't get your warrant for a day or two.”

”That's so,” Curtis agreed. ”I'll make for the settlement and wire Bardsley and our bosses at Regina; you'll ride on and keep Prescott in sight--though it would be better if you didn't let him know you were watching him. When he clears, take the trail behind him and send back word to Sebastian. Soon as I get the warrant or instructions, I'll come after you.”

They separated and some time later Stanton took up his station in a bluff which commanded a view of the Prescott homestead. Lying hidden with his horse, he saw the rancher drive up and disappear within the house.

Prescott had been very busy during the past two days and had found strenuous application something of a relief. He recognized that suspicion was centering on him and that he might expect a visit from the police, but the only way of proving his innocence that he could see was to produce his supposed victim. He foresaw that it might take a long while to find the man, and he must make preparations for a lengthy absence. The risk he ran in remaining until he had completed them was grave, but there was a vein of dogged persistency in him and he would not go before he was ready.