XIII
FOSTER RETURNS TO THE GARTH
After breakfast next morning Foster asked the hotel porter to take hisknapsack to the station and get him a ticket to Carlisle. He mustleave a clew for Daly, who might come back to Hawick when he failed tofind him in Annandale but would be badly puzzled if he went toCarlisle, because it was an important railway center, where one wouldhave a choice of several different routes. This would give Foster afew quiet days, after which he must think of a way of inducing Daly toresume the chase. The latter probably thought he was followingLawrence, and if he did not, no doubt concluded that Foster was workingin concert with him, and to find one would help him to deal with theother.
It was a dark morning and the smoke of the woolen factories hung aboutthe town. A few lights burned in the station, but the building wasgloomy and Foster had some trouble in finding the porter among thewaiting passengers. Soon after he did so, the train came in and theman hurried along the platform, looking into the carriages.
"Ye wanted a corridor, sir," he said as he opened a door.
Foster got in and stood at the window until the porter went away.People were running up and down looking for places, but he had no timeto lose. Opening the door on the opposite side, he went along thecorridor and stood for a moment on the step at the other end of thecarriage. He could not see the porter, and when two or threepassengers ran up got down from the step. Next moment the whistleblew, the engine snorted, and the train rolled out of the station.
As none of the porters spoke to him, Foster thought he had managed thething neatly and made it look as if he had come to see somebody offinstead of having been left behind. For all that, he waited a minuteor two, studying a time-table, to avoid the risk of overtaking thehotel porter; and then made his way by back streets out of the town.For some miles, the road he took ran south up a well-cultivated valley,past turnip and stubble fields and smooth pasture; and then changed toa rough stony track that climbed a hill.
A turn shut in the valley when he reached higher ground, and a longstretch of moor rolled away ahead. Foster thought these sharptransitions from intensive cultivation to the sterile wilds werecharacteristic of southern Scotland. It had rained since he leftHawick, but now the sun shone down between the clouds and bright gleamsand flying shadows chased each other across the waste. To the souththe sky was clear and shone with a lemon-yellow glow, against which therounded hills rose, delicately gray. In one place there was a gap thatFoster thought was Liddesdale, and his path led across the lattertowards the head of Tyne. Not a house broke the sweep of witheredgrass and heath, and only the crying of plover that circled in thedistance disturbed the silence.
Foster liked the open trail and went on with a light step, until as hecrossed the watershed and the country sloped to the south, he came to awire fence and saw the black mouth of a railway tunnel beneath. It wasnow about two o'clock, and feeling hungry, he sat down where a bank cutoff the wind, and took out some food he had bought at Hawick. He didnot know if he found the shining rails and row of telegraph posts thatcurved away down the hillside out of place, but somehow they made himfeel foolishly unconventional. His boots and mackintosh were wet, hewas lunching on sweet biscuits and gingerbread, and did not know wherehe would spend the night, although it would not be at a comfortablehotel. Until he saw the tunnel, he had felt at home in the wilds andmight have done so yet, had he, for example, been driving a flock ofsheep; but the railway was disturbing.
In this country, people traveled by steam-heated trains, instead of onfoot, and engaged a lawyer to defend them from their enemies. He wasgoing back to the methods of two or three centuries ago, and not evendoing this properly, since the moss-troopers who once rode throughthose hills carried lances instead of a check-book, which was after allhis best weapon. He laughed and felt himself something of a modern DonQuixote as he lighted his pipe.
Then there was a roar in the tunnel and a North British express,leaping out through a cloud of smoke, switched his thoughts on toanother track. His adventures had begun in a train, and it was in atrain he met the girl who warned him not to deliver Carmen's packet.He did not see what the packet had to do with him, but he had had sometrouble about it and thought it might turn up again. Then he wonderedwhether Daly was now in Annandale. The fellow was obviously determinedto find Lawrence, and, if one admitted that he had come to England forthe purpose, did not mind how much it cost him, which was ratherstrange. After all, blackmailing was a risky business and theFeatherstones were not rich. It looked as if Daly might have someother object in tracking Lawrence, but Foster could not see what itwas. Indeed, he was frankly puzzled. There was a mystery aboutCarmen's packet, he had been warned out of Edinburgh, and inquiriesabout him were afterwards made, while Daly's keenness was not quiteexplained. He wondered whether these things were somehow related, butat present they only offered him tangled clews that led nowhere. Well,he might be able to unravel them by and by, and getting up went on hisway.
He spent the night at a lonely cothouse on the edge of a peat-moss andreached the Garth next afternoon. John let him in and after taking hismackintosh remarked: "Mr. and Mrs. Featherstone are out, but MissFeatherstone is at home; I will let her know you have arrived." Thenhe paused and added in a half-apologetic tone: "I hope you had apleasant journey, sir."
Foster smiled. John had softened his imperturbable formality by justthe right touch of respectful interest. In a sense, they wereaccomplices, but Foster thought if they had committed a crime together,the old fellow would have treated him with unmoved deference as hismaster's guest.
"On the whole, I had. I suppose you met the other car when you turnedback at the station?"
"Yes, sir. I met it coming round the bend."
"As the road's narrow, your judgment's pretty good. Did anythinghappen?"
John's eyes twinkled faintly. "Not to our car, sir. The other had thebad luck to run on to the grass where the ground was soft. In fact, wehad some trouble to pull her out. The gentleman seemed annoyed, sir."
Foster went to his room chuckling. He could imagine the deferentialway in which John, who had caused the accident, had offered help. Whenwe went down Alice met him in the hall and he thrilled at something inher manner as she gave him her hand. It was getting dark and the glowof the fire flickered among the shadows, but there was only one lamp,and as it was shaded the light did not travel far beyond the smalltable, on which tea was presently served. This hinted at seclusion andhomelike intimacy. An embroidered cloth half-covered the dark,polished oak, the china was old but unusually delicate, and the blueflame of a spirit lamp burned beneath the copper kettle.
Foster thought everything showed signs of fastidious taste, but therewas something austere about it that harmonized with the dignifiedshabbiness of the house. It was, for example, very different from theprettiness of the Edinburgh tea-room, and he thought it hinted of thecharacter of the Borderers. For all that, the society of his companionhad the greatest charm. Alice was plainly dressed, but simplicitybecame her. The girl had the Border spirit, with its reserves ofstrength and tenderness. Now she was quietly friendly, but Foster knewher friendship was not lightly given and was worth much.
Alice made him talk about his journey and he did so frankly, exceptthat he did not mention his meeting the girl in the tea-room or thedetective's visit to his hotel. Still he felt a certain embarrassment,as he had done when he told his partner's story. It was rather hard torelate his own exploits, and he knew Alice would note any error he wasled into by vanity or false diffidence.
"Then it was really to keep a promise to Miss Austin you went toNewcastle," she remarked presently. "Since she sent you with thepacket, you must know her pretty well."
"Yes," said Foster, "in a way, we are good friends. You see there arenot a great many people at the Crossing."
Alice gave him a quiet glance. He was not such a fool as to imagine itmattered to her whether he knew Carmen well or not. But he thought shewas not
altogether pleased.
"What is Miss Austin like?" she asked.
Foster was careful about his reply. He wanted Alice to understand thathe was not Carmen's lover, which needed tact; but he was her friend andmust do her justice, while any breach of good taste would be noted andcondemned. He did his best, without learning if he had produced theright effect, for Alice let the matter drop, as if it no longerinterested her.
"Perhaps it's a pity you helped the men who were poaching," she said."I'm afraid you're fond of romantic adventures."
"I'm sometimes rash and sorry afterwards," Foster admitted. "However,there's an excuse for the other thing. This is a romantic country andI've spent a long time in Canada, which is altogether businesslike."
Alice gave him an approving smile, but she said, "One shouldn't besorry afterwards. Isn't that rather weak?"
"I'm human," Foster rejoined. "A thing looks different when you cometo pay for doing it. It's pretty hard not to feel sorry then."
"After all, that may be better than counting the cost beforehand andleaving the thing undone."
"You're a Borderer; one of the headstrong, old-fashioned kind thatbroke the invasions and afterwards defied their own rulers for a whim."
"As a matter of fact, a number of them were very businesslike. Theyfought for their enemies' cattle and the ransom of captured knights."
"Not always," Foster objected. "At Flodden, where the Ettrick spearsall fell in the smashed squares, the Scots king came down from hisstrong camp to meet the English on equal terms. Then it wasn'tbusinesslike when Buccleugh, with his handful of men, carried offKimmont Willie from Carlisle. There was peace between the countriesand he had two offended sovereigns to hold him accountable."
"It looks as if you had been reading something about our history,"Alice said smiling.
"I haven't read much," Foster answered modestly. "Still, we have a fewbooks at the mill, and in the long winter evenings, when thethermometer marks forty degrees below and you sit close to the red-hotstove, there's nothing to do but read. It would be hard for you topicture our little room; the match-boarding, split by the changes fromheat to bitter cold, the smell of hot iron, the dead silence, and thegrim white desolation outside. Perhaps it's curious, but after workinghard all day, earning dollars, one can't read rubbish. One wantsromance, but romance that's real and has the truth in it."
"But your own life has been full of adventure."
"In a way, but there was always a business proposition to justify therisk. It's good to be reckless now and then, and I've felt as I readabout your ancestors that I envied them. There must have been somecharm in riding about the moors with one's lady's glove on one's steelcap, ready to follow where adventure called."
"So far as we know," said Alice, "it was the custom to honor one lady,always. The Border chiefs were rude, but they had their virtues, andthere are some pretty stories of their constancy."
Foster imagined he saw a faint sparkle in her eyes. He would haveliked to think she resented his having gone to Newcastle on Carmen'sbehalf, but doubted this. After a pause she resumed:
"People say we are decadent and getting slack with luxury, but onelikes to think the spirit of the race survives all changed conditionsand can't be destroyed. There is a colliery not very far off where thewater broke in some years ago. The men in the deep workings were cutoff, but the few who escaped went back into the pit--and never came up.They knew the thing was impossible, their leaders frankly told them so,but they would not be denied. Well, the colliery was not reopened, theshaft-head towers are falling down, but there's a granite fountain onthe moor that will stand for ages to record the splendid sacrifice."
"They had all to lose," said Foster. "One must admire, without hopingto emulate, a deed like that."
Alice changed the subject rather abruptly. "What you have told me ispuzzling. I can't see why the police followed you, and there'ssomething mysterious about the packet. It all seems connected withLawrence's affairs, and yet I can't see how. I suppose you have noexplanation?"
"Not yet. I feel there's something going on in which I may by and bytake a part. The clews break off, but I may find one that's stronger,and then----"
He stopped, but Alice gave him an understanding glance. "Then youwould follow the clew, even if it led you into some danger, forLawrence's sake?"
"I'd try," said Foster, with a flush that gave him a curiouslyingenuous look. "As I've no particular talent for that kind of thing,I mightn't do much good, but you have accused me of being romantic andI've owned that I am rash."
Alice smiled. "You're certainly modest; but there's a rashness that ismuch the same as generosity."
Then Featherstone came in and after a time took Foster to the library,where he gave him a cigarette.
"It's strange we haven't heard from Lawrence yet," he said in adisturbed voice. "He hasn't given the Canadian post office his newaddress, because here's a letter they have sent on."
"From Hulton, who seems to be in Toronto," said Foster, picking up theenvelope. "As I'm a partner, I'll open it."
He did so and gave Featherstone the letter, which inquired if theycould supply some lumber the company needed.
"I'm sorry we can't do the work, because we won't be back in time. Itwould have been an interesting job to cut the stuff in the way Hultonwants."
"He seems to leave a good deal to your judgment and to have no doubtabout your sending him the right material."
"I suppose that is so," Foster agreed. "Hulton soon got into the wayof sending for Lawrence when he wanted any lumber that had to becarefully sawn. In fact, he treats him as a kind of consultingspecialist, and I imagine likes him personally."
He was silent for the next minute or two. Featherstone's remark hadshown him more clearly than he had hitherto realized how high Lawrencestood in the manufacturer's esteem. No other outsider was treated withsuch confidence. Then he told Featherstone about his journey, and thelatter said:
"I have heard nothing from Daly, but soon after you left, a gentlemanfrom Edinburgh came here to inquire about you."
"Ah!" said Foster, rather sharply. "I suppose he was sent by thepolice and imagine I met him at my hotel. His name was Gordon; Ithought it curious that he gave me his card."
"That was the name. He asked if I knew you and I said I did."
"Then it looks as if he meant to test my statements. Did he seemsurprised to learn I was staying here?"
"It was hard to tell what the fellow thought; but somehow I felt thathe expected to find your story true. He, however, gave me noinformation. What do you suppose he wants?"
"I can't imagine; the thing's puzzling. What makes it stranger is thatI thought the interest Gordon took in me was, so to speak, benevolent."
"But why should it be benevolent, if he had any ground for suspectingyou?" Featherstone asked.
Foster glanced at him keenly. There was a change in his host's manner,which had grown less cordial, but he admitted that Featherstone'sconfidence was being subjected to some strain. It would certainly bedisturbing to find the police inquiring about him. Lawrence had notwritten, and Foster saw that there was much in his statements thatsounded rather lame.
"I don't understand the matter at all; but it might be better if I leftquietly in the morning," he said. "If I don't put Daly on my trailagain, he may come back."
"Very well," said Featherstone, getting up. "But what did you do withLawrence's bag?"
"I left it at a Peebles hotel. I thought if Daly found it was there,it would give him a place to watch."
Featherstone gloomily made a sign of agreement. "I wish Lawrence wouldwrite to us. We are getting anxious about him and a letter would putour minds at rest."