Part 4 (2/2)
”Rather,” agreed Philip.
”And yet not when you come to understand the circ.u.mstances,” continued the inspector, placing the photograph face down on the table and looking at the other through a purple cloud of tobacco smoke. ”You see, Steele, I know who you are. I know that your father is Philip Steele, the big Chicago banker. I know that you are up here for romance and adventure rather than for any other thing there is in the service. I know, too, that you are no prairie chicken, and that most of your life has been spent where you see beautiful women every hour of the day, and where soft voices and tender smiles aren't the most wonderful things in the world, as they sometimes are up here. Fact is, we have a way of our own of running down records--”
”And a confounded clever one it must be,” interrupted Philip irreverently. ”Had you any--any particular reason for supposing me to be 'beauty-proof,' as you call it?” he added coldly.
”I've told you my only reason,” said the inspector, leaning over his desk. ”You've seen so many pretty faces, Steele, and you've a.s.sociated with them so long that one up here isn't going to turn your head. Now--”
MacGregor hesitated, and laughed. The flush grew deeper in his cheeks, and he looked again at the photograph.
”I'm going to be frank with you,” he went on. ”This young woman called on me yesterday, and within a quarter of an hour--fifteen minutes, mind you!--she had me going like a fool! Understand? I'm not proof--against her--and yet I'm growing old in the service and haven't had a love affair since--a long time ago. I'm going to send you up to the Wekusko camp, above Le Pas, to bring down a prisoner. The man is her husband, and he almost killed Hodges, who is chief of construction up there.
The minimum he'll get is ten years, and this woman is moving heaven and earth to save him. So help me G.o.d, Steele, if I was one of the youngsters, and she came to me as she did yesterday, I believe I'd let him give me the slip! But it mustn't happen. Understand? It mustn't happen. We've got to bring that man down, and we've got to give him the law. Simple thing, isn't it--this bringing a prisoner down from Wekusko!
Any rookie could do it, couldn't he? And yet--”
The inspector paused to light his cigar, which had gone out. Then he added: ”If you'll do this, Steele--and care for it--I'll see that you get your promotion.”
As he finished, he tossed the photograph across the desk. ”That's she.
Don't ask me how I got the picture.”
A curious thrill shot through Philip as he picked up the bit of cardboard. It was a wondrously sweet face that looked squarely out of it into his eyes, a face so youthful, so filled with childish prettiness that an exclamation of surprise rose to his lips. Under other circ.u.mstances he would have sworn that it was the picture of a school-girl. He looked up, about to speak, but MacGregor had turned again to the window, clouds of smoke about his head. He spoke without turning his head.
”That was taken nearly ten years ago,” he said, and Philip knew that he was making an effort to keep an unnatural break out of his voice. ”But there has been little change--almost none. His name is Thorpe. I will send you a written order this afternoon and you can start to-night.”
Philip rose, and waited.
”Is there nothing more?” he asked, after a moment. ”This woman--”
”There is nothing more,” interrupted the inspector, still looking out through the window.
”Only this, Steele--you must bring him back. Whatever happens, bring back your prisoner.”
As he turned to leave, Philip fancied that he caught something else--a stifled, choking breath, a sound that made him turn his head again as he went through the door. The inspector had not moved.
”Now what the deuce does this mean?” he asked himself, closing the door softly behind him. ”You're up against something queer this time, Philip Steele, I'll wager dollars to doughnuts. Promotion for bringing in a prisoner! What in thunder--”
He stopped for a moment in one of the cleared paths. From the big low roofed drill enclosure a hundred yards away came the dull thud of galloping hoofs and the voice of Sergeant Moody thundering instructions to the rookies. Moody had a heart like flint and would have faced blazing cannon to perform his duty. He had grown old and ugly in the service and was as beauty-proof as an ogre of stone. Why hadn't MacGregor sent him?
Beauty-proof! The words sent a swift rush of thought, of regret, of the old homesickness and longing through Philip as he returned to his quarters. He wondered just how much MacGregor knew, and he sat down to bring up before him for the thousandth time a vision of the two faces that had played their part in his life--the face of the girl at home, as beautiful as a Diane de Poitiers, as soulless as a sphinx, who had offered herself to him in return for his name and millions, and of that other which he had met away up in the frozen barrens of Lac Bain.
Beauty-proof! He laughed and loaded his pipe. MacGregor had made a good guess, even though he did not know what had pa.s.sed that winter before he came north to seek adventure, or of the fight he had made for another woman, with Mr. Bucky Nome--deserter!
Chapter VI. Philip Follows A Pretty Face
It was late in the afternoon when Philip's instructions came from the inspector. They were tersely official in form, gave him all necessary authority, and ordered him to leave for Le Pas that night. Pinned to the order was a small slip of paper, and on this MacGregor had repeated in writing his words of a few hours before: ”Whatever happens, bring back your prisoner.”
There was no signature to this slip, and the first two words were heavily underscored. What did this double caution mean? Coming from a man like MacGregor, who was as choice as a king of his advice, Philip knew that it was of unusual significance. If it was intended as a warning, why had not the inspector given him more detail? During the hour in which he was preparing for his journey he racked his brain for some clew to the situation. The task which he was about to perform seemed simple enough. A man named Thorpe had attempted murder at Wekusko. He was already a prisoner, and he was to bring him down. The biggest coward in Saskatchewan, or a man from a hospital bed, could do this much, and yet--
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