Part 7 (1/2)

”I understand now,” he said. ”You had me brought here--in this way--that I might hear what was said, and use it as evidence. But--”

”Oh, my G.o.d, I did not mean to do this,” she cried, as if knowing what he was about to say. ”I thought that if he betrayed his vileness to you--if he knew that the world would know, through you, how he had attempted to destroy a home, and how he offered my husband's freedom in exchange for--but you saw, you heard, you must understand! He would not dare to go on when he knew that all this would become public. My husband would have been free. But now--”

”You have killed him,” said Philip.

There was no sympathy in his voice. It was the cold, pa.s.sionless accusation of a man of the law, and the woman bowed her face in her hands. He put on his service cap, tightened his belt, and touched her gently on the arm.

”Do you know where your husband is confined?” he asked. ”I will take you there, and you may remain with him to-night.”

She brightened instantly. ”Yes,” she said.

”Come!”

They pa.s.sed through the door, closing it carefully behind them, and the woman led the way to a dark, windowless building a hundred yards from the dead chief's headquarters.

”This is the camp prison,” she whispered.

A man clad in a great bear-skin coat was on guard at the door. In the moonlight he recognized Philip's uniform.

”Here are orders from the inspector,” said Philip, holding out MacGregor's letter. ”I am to have charge of the prisoner. Mrs. Thorpe is to spend the night with him.”

A moment later the door was opened and the woman pa.s.sed in. As he turned away Philip heard a low sobbing cry, a man's startled voice. Then the door swung heavily on its hinges and there was silence.

Five minutes later Philip was bending again over the dead man. A surprising transformation had come over him now. His face was flushed and his strong teeth shone in sneering hatred as he covered the body with a blanket. On the wall hung a pair of overalls and a working-man's heavy coat. These and Hodges' hat he quickly put on in place of his own uniform. Once more he went out into the night.

This time he came up back of the prison. The guard was pacing back and forth in his beaten path, so thickly m.u.f.fled about the ears that he did not hear Philip's cautious footsteps behind him. When he turned he found the muzzle of a revolver within arm's length of his face.

”Hands up!” commanded Philip.

The astonished man obeyed without a word.

”If you make a move or the slightest sound I'll kill you!” continued Philip threateningly. ”Drop your hands behind you--there, like that!”

With the quickness and skill which he had acquired under Sergeant Moody he secured the guard's wrists with one of the coffin box straps, and gagged him with the same cloth that had been used upon himself. He had observed that his prisoner carried the key to the padlocked cabin in one of his coat pockets, and after possessing himself of this he made him seat himself in the deep shadow, strapped his ankles, and then unlocked the prison door.

There was a light inside, and from beyond this the white faces of the man and the woman stared at him as he entered. The man was leaning back in his cot, and Philip knew that the wife had risen suddenly, for one arm was still encircling his shoulders, and a hand was resting on his cheek as if she had been stroking it caressingly when he interrupted them. Her beautiful, startled eyes gazed at him half defiantly now.

He advanced into the light, took off his hat, and smiled.

With a cry Thorpe's wife sprang to her feet.

”Sh-h-h-h-h!” warned Philip, raising a hand and pointing to the door behind them.

Thorpe had risen. Without a word Philip advanced and held out his hand.

Only half understanding, the prisoner reached forth his own. As, for an instant, the two men stood in this position, one smiling, the other transfixed with wonder, there came a stifled, sobbing cry from behind.

Philip turned. The woman stood in the lamp glow, her arms reaching out to him--to both--and never, not even at Lac Bain, had he seen a woman more beautiful than Thorpe's wife at that moment.

As if nothing had happened, he went to the table, where there was a pen and ink and a pad of paper.

”Perhaps your wife hasn't told you everything that has happened to-night, Thorpe,” he said. ”If she hasn't, she will--soon. Now, listen!”