Ottwell Binns - The Lady of North Star

“Then she did know him!” he whispered to himself. “She went out to meet him. She – ”

He did not finish his utterance, but lifted the paper the more carefully to examine the signature. He was interested in the unfinished surname, and spelled out the letters carefully, “B-r-a.” He repeated them to himself several times, trying to guess the sequence that should follow, then suddenly he started to his feet, and a startled look came into his eyes.

“Good God!” he whispered. “If it should be so?” He stood for quite a long time, his face the index of profound thought and concern, then he bestowed the incriminating letter in a place of safety, and prepared for bed. But it was long before he slept. From somewhere in the forest came the long-drawn howl of a wolf, and in response the dogs outside bayed in chorus, but it was his own silent thoughts, and not these noises of the wilderness, that kept sleep from his tired eyes.

THE following morning Corporal Bracknell was early astir, but early as he was there were others earlier, for the smell of frying moose-meat reached him before he was dressed. When he left his room he found Rayner awaiting him.

“You are early, Corporal,” was the greeting.

“Yes, I thought of going out as far as the place where we went together last night.”

“What! before breakfast? Surely there is no need for such haste, and remember there will be no daylight for at least a couple of hours yet.”

“That is so, but – ”

An Indian servant appeared from somewhere in the rear of the house, bearing a silver coffee-pot on a tray. Rayner pointed to it with a smile.

“That settles the matter, I fancy. Breakfast is being served. You will not allow it to spoil, I am sure.”

“It is a convincing argument,” laughed the corporal. “I will breakfast first and attend to duty afterwards.”

Rayner nodded, and led the way into the room where they had dined on the previous night. Places were laid for four at the table, but neither Miss Gargrave nor her foster-sister had yet appeared.

“We are a little early for the ladies,” said Rayner, seating himself, “but we will not wait for them. They may breakfast in their room.”

The corporal took his place, and whilst they ate, conversed with his companion in a desultory kind of way. Both of them steadily avoided any reference to the events and conversation of the night before, and in the course of the meal the policeman learned a little more about his hostess’ father.

“He was an odd kind of man,” explained Rayner, when reference had been made to him. “Came of a good stock in the Old Country, and was one of the pioneers up here. A man of culture as a glance round the bookshelves will show you, and a man of business also. Some of the best mining properties in the North were secured by him, and unlike many of the Klondyke millionaires he made his home here, and he bought, regardless of cost, the old family estate in England. I think he meant to return there, with his daughter, some day. But the hard life of these wild lands had entered into his blood, and he – ”

The sound of a feminine voice outside caught the officer’s attention, and made him neglect what his companion was saying. He heard the outer door open, and close, then hurried steps sounded in the passage, and two people passed by the room in which he was seated. The door happened to be ajar, and the corporal saw that one was his hostess, and that the other was her companion and foster-sister, Miss La Farge. They were not late for breakfast because they had dallied in their rooms; they had been outside.

As he realized this a little frown of thoughtfulness puckered the corporal’s forehead. Why had they been out at this early hour, and whilst it was still dark? Rayner noticed his pre-occupation, and guessing the cause of it, suavely offered an explanation.

“Apparently I was mistaken about my cousin and Miss La Farge. They are not the sluggards I thought they were. They have been outside whilst I thought they were still a-bed.”

“They are very early,” was the reply.

“Yes! There is a silver fox about, and Joy has a line of traps. She hopes to get it. I understand that its pelt is rare.”

“Much rarer than it used to be,” agreed the policeman absently.

The explanation was a plausible one, but he did not find it satisfactory. He suspected that something other than a silver fox had taken Joy Gargrave and her foster-sister into the woods in the darkness of the morning. He wondered what it was. Had his hostess missed the note which he had picked up the night before, and had she been out to look for it? He did not know, he could only guess, and wait impatiently for the coming of dawn.

As soon as the first leaden light showed through the trees outside he left the house. Rayner offered to accompany him; but the corporal declined the offer.

“Thank you, there is no need, Mr. Rayner. I shall be able to manage what I have to do alone.”

“You think I shall be in the way, Corporal?” laughed the other.

“I did not say so,” answered Bracknell, “though of course it is the simple truth that when one has a knotty thing to solve, solitude and quiet are sometimes helpful.”

He went out and walked quickly from the house until he reached the by-path where he had made his startling discovery of the night before. As soon as he turned into it, his pace slowed, and he walked with his eyes fixed upon the ground. There were many footmarks in the snow, the most of them stale, as was shown by the powdery snow which had drifted into them. He recognized his own tracks of the night before, going and coming from the point at which he had found Koona Dick, and there were others apparently made about the same time, but those which arrested his eyes as he turned from the main road were a pair of freshly-made well-marked tracks, too small to have been made by the feet of men. He nodded to himself as he saw them, and began to follow them eagerly.

After a couple of minutes walking, he was a little surprised to find that the double trail that he was following, turned from the path into the shadow of the trees. It was still almost dark here, but as he stooped over the tracks, he became aware of the fact which seemed to him to be full of significance. There was a third pair of footprints, not so recently made as the others, as the powdering of snow in them showed, and the tracks that he was trailing apparently followed them. He stooped and with his hand made a rough measure of the stale tracks, and of one set of the fresh ones, with which they seemed almost identical. They were the same size, and about the two sets of impressions were little individual characteristics which were immediately discernible to the trained eyes.

“Following her own tracks,” he muttered softly to himself. “Now, I wonder why?”

He could do no more than guess, and as that was not a very profitable occupation he continued his search. The trail that he was following went but a little way into the forest, and then turned outward towards the path again, and presently reached a point at which he came abruptly to a standstill.

Under a giant spruce, the lower boughs of which had been cut away at some time or another, was a medley of tracks, which called for detailed examination. He stood regarding them for a moment, and then he looked around him. As he did so he saw that the trail, which he was following, moved forward from the huddle of tracks by which he had paused, and that they led into an open lane in the trees. He looked again, took a step or two forward, and then whistled slowly to himself. He was looking at the place where the body of Koona Dick had lain. The stained snow was hidden by freshly drifted snow, the impress of the body however was still visible, and standing near it, Corporal Bracknell looked back. There was a clear line of vision from the place where the fallen man had lain to the great spruce in the shadow of which was that huddle of tracks. He went back to the spruce, bent over the trampled snow for a little time, and then standing upright looked towards the path. Then he nodded his head.