Part 50 (1/2)

”For the last time, I ask you, where is my son?”

”I wish I knew,” said Prescott quietly. ”I believe he's in British Columbia, but it's a big province and I lost trace of him there.”

”It's a lie!” Jernyngham cried, hoa.r.s.e with fury. ”Your tricks won't serve you; I'll have the truth!”

”Be calm, Mr. Jernyngham,” Colston begged, touching his arm. ”We'll have a crowd here in a few moments. Come back into the hotel.”

He was violently pushed away. Jernyngham's eyes glittered, his face was grimly set; it was obvious that his self-control had deserted him. Seeing that he could not be reasoned with, Colston left him alone and waited, ready to interfere if necessary. The man, he thought, was in a dangerous mood; the situation was liable to have alarming developments.

”Why don't you speak?” Jernyngham stormed at Prescott. ”You shall not leave the spot until we hear your confession!”

Prescott stood still, looking at him steadily, with pity in his face. He made a striking figure in the glare of light, finely posed, with no sign of shrinking. The others had fixed their eyes on him, and did not notice Muriel move quietly through the shadow of the wooden pillars.

”I have nothing to confess,” he said.

Jernyngham's fur coat was open and his hand dropped quickly to a pocket.

As he brought it out Colston sprang forward, a moment too late; but Muriel was before him, her hand on the man's arm. There was a flash, a sharp report, and blue smoke curled up toward the veranda, but Prescott stood still, untouched.

”Be quick!” screamed Muriel. ”He's trying to fire again!”

There was no time to be particular. Colston seized the elder man, dragging him backward several paces before he wrenched the pistol from him. Then he paused, breathless, looking about in a half-dazed fas.h.i.+on.

Everything had happened with startling suddenness, and the scene under the veranda was an impressive one. His wife clutched one of the pillars as if unnerved. Gertrude leaned against the sidewalk rail, her face tense with horror, and Jernyngham stood with a slackness of carriage which suggested that power of thought and physical force had suddenly left him.

”Jack, are you hurt?” cried Muriel clinging to Prescott.

The tension was relieved by the appearance of the commissioned officer, who sprang out of the hotel with the constable close behind him.

”Shut the door and keep them in!” he ordered.

The constable obeyed, but his efforts were wasted, for men were already hurrying out through the separate entrance to the bar and from an adjoining store. Others ran out from the houses, and the street was rapidly filling with an eager crowd.

”Stand back there!” called the officer sharply. Then he turned to the group under the veranda. ”Now what's this? I heard a shot!”

”Yes,” said Colston, pulling himself together, though his manner was confused; ”there was one. I don't know how it happened--it was a surprise to us all. I don't think the pistol's safe; it goes off too easily.

However, the most important thing is that n.o.body is hurt.”

”That's fortunate. I'll take the weapon from you,” replied the officer dryly.

When Colston had given it to him, as if glad to be rid of it, the officer noted the positions and att.i.tudes of the others before he turned to Prescott.

”Can you tell me anything?” he asked.

”I don't think so,” Prescott answered. ”Of course, I saw the flash, but the bullet didn't come anywhere near me.”

Then Gertrude's nerve gave way. All that had happened was her work; she had, when her father was wavering and questioning the justice of his suspicions, driven them back more firmly into his mind, and as a result of this he had come near to killing an innocent man. Overwhelmed by the thought, she swayed unsteadily and fell back against the rails.

”Miss Jernyngham is fainting!” Mrs. Colston cried, hurrying toward her.

”Bring her in!” said the officer; and when this was done, with Colston's a.s.sistance, he called to the constable: