Part 35 (1/2)

In the morning she got a jar, for a sergeant of the Royal North-West Police arrived at the hotel. He was polite but firm, and Laura saw she must brace up. Mrs. Dillon had gone with her to the rotunda and to know she had her help was some comfort.

”Mr. Stannard started for the mountains yesterday,” the sergeant remarked. ”He took a quant.i.ty of camp truck and two of your friends.

Where did he go?”

”I don't altogether know his line,” Laura replied. ”When you climb high mountains you cannot make fixed plans. Much depends on the snow.”

”Well, I expect Mr. Stannard stated where he meant to start?”

”Why, of course,” said Mrs. Dillon. ”He'd get off at the Green River depot.”

The sergeant remarked her frankness, but thought she saw some frankness was indicated, because for him to find out where the party had got off was not hard.

”Do you know Mr. Stannard's object? Our clubmen go for the rocks in summer. His starting now was strange.”

Laura lifted her head and her look was proud. She thought she could play up and the fellow must not imagine Stannard had gone to Jimmy's help.

”My father is not a Canadian clubman. He's a famous Alpine mountaineer and can go where others cannot.”

”Our boys are pretty smart,” said the sergeant, smiling. ”But are all Mr. Stannard's party expert mountaineers? Mr. Stevens, for example? And Mr. Frank Dillon?”

”My son,” said Mrs. Dillon, who saw the other had talked to the hotel clerk. ”Frank knows something about the rocks and belongs to a club that explores the Olympian range. We're Americans.”

The sergeant bowed politely, but she resumed: ”Mr. Stannard's English, all the lot are tourists and I sure can't see what the Canadian police have to do with their going off to climb your rocks. You're not going to draw strangers to the country if you bother them like that.”

”Sometimes the police's duty is awkward,” said the sergeant in an apologetic voice.

”The police have not much grounds to inquire about my father's excursion,” Laura remarked haughtily. ”When he killed the big-horn he did not know he poached on a game reserve, but he paid the fine and it is done with.”

The sergeant saw her eyes sparkled and she was not playing a part. She did not know all he knew, and he must not enlighten her.

”Not long since Mr. Stannard went shooting with the pit-light, which is not allowed, and the game-warden was shot.”

”My father did not shoot the warden; he stayed and helped the police.”

”Three of his party pulled out,” the sergeant rejoined. ”Maybe Mr.

Leyland could put us wise about the shooting and we reckoned Mr.

Stannard knows where he is.”

”Then you must wait for his return. If you found his track, I don't suppose you could follow him on the rocks.”

”In the meantime, you're resolved not to help us. .h.i.t his track?”

”I don't know his track,” Laura replied.

The sergeant went off. He had talked to the hotel clerk, and although he had not found out much from Laura, he had found out something. The girl was persuaded Stannard had gone to help Leyland, and the sergeant thought his plan really was to help the young fellow get away. In fact, the sergeant thought he saw Stannard's object for doing so.

Laura, however, was disturbed. She was anxious for Jimmy and knew the risks Stannard ran in the mountains, but she imagined she had baffled the sergeant and she resigned herself to wait for news.

When the next train for the coast rolled across the pa.s.s Deering was on board a first-cla.s.s car. He was dressed like a city sportsman, but his clothes were thick and his shooting jacket was lined with sheepskin, for Deering knew the wilds. When he went to Vancouver his movements interested the police, but at Calgary they left him alone, and nothing indicated that they now bothered where he went. Deering thought it strange, unless they knew something he did not.