Chapter VIII. Another Letter For Philip
From beside his prisoner in the deep gloom Philip saw Thorpe and hiswife come out of the cabin a minute later and hurry away through thenight. Then he dragged the guard into the prison, relocked the door,left the key in the lock, and returned to Hodges' office to replace theold clothes for his uniform. Not until he stood looking down upon thedead body again did the enormity of his own offense begin to crowd uponhim. But he was not frightened nor did he regret what he had done.He turned out the light, sat down, coolly filled his pipe, and beganturning the affair over, detail by detail, in his mind. He had, atleast, followed Inspector MacGregor's injunction--he had followed hisconscience. Hodges had got what he deserved, and he had saved a man anda woman.
But in spite of his first argument, he knew that MacGregor had notforeseen a tragedy of this sort, and that, in the eyes of the law, hewas guilty of actively assisting in the flight of two people who couldnot possibly escape the penalty of justice--if caught. But they wouldnot be caught. He assured himself of that, smiling grimly in thedarkness. No one at Wekusko could explain what had happened.
He was positive that the guard had not recognized him, and that hewould think one of Thorpe's friends had effected the rescue. AndMacGregor--Philip chuckled as he thought of the condemning evidence inhis possession, the strange orders which would mean dismissal for theinspector, and perhaps a greater punishment, if he divulged them. Hewould be safe in telling MacGregor something of what had occurred in thelittle cabin. And then, as he sat in this grim atmosphere of death, athought came to him of M'sieur Janette's skull, of Bucky Nome, and ofthe beautiful young wife at Lac Bain.
If Mrs. Becker could know of this, too--if Bucky Nome, buried somewheredeep in the northern wilderness, could only see Hodges as he laythere, dead on the cabin floor! To the one it would be a still greaterpunishment, to the other a warning. And yet, even as he thought of thecolonel's wife and of her flirtation with Nome, a vision of her facecame to him again, filled with the marvelous sweetness, the purity, andthe love which had enthralled him beside the campfire. In these momentsit was almost impossible for him to convince himself that she hadforgotten her dignity as a wife even for an hour. Could he have beenmistaken? Had he looked at her with eyes heated by his own love, firedby jealousy? If she had smiled upon him instead of upon Bucky Nome, ifher cheeks had flushed at his words, would he have thought that shehad done wrong? As if in answer to his own questions, he saw again thewhite, tense face of the colonel, her husband, and he laughed harshly.
For several hours Philip remained in the shelter of Hodges' office. Withearly dawn he stole out into the forest, and a little later made hisappearance in camp, saying that he had spent the night at Le Pas. Notuntil an hour later was it discovered that Hodges had been killed, theguard made a prisoner, and that Thorpe and his wife were gone. Philipat once took charge of affairs and put a strain on his professionalknowledge by declaring that Thorpe had undoubtedly fled into the North.Early in the afternoon he started in pursuit.
A dozen miles north of the Wekusko camp he swung at right angles to thewest, traveled fifteen miles, then cut a straight course south. It wasthree days later before he showed up at Le Pas, and learned that no onehad seen or heard of Thorpe and his wife. Two days later he walked intoMacGregor's office. The inspector fairly leaped from his chair to greethim.
"You got them, Steele!" he cried. "You got them after the mur--thekilling of Hodges?"
Philip handed him a crumpled bit of paper.
"Those were your latest instructions, sir," he replied quietly. "Ifollowed them to the letter."
MacGregor read, and his face turned as white as the paper he held. "GoodGod!" he gasped.
He reeled rather than walked back to his desk, dropped into a chairand buried his face in his arms, his shoulders shaking like those of asobbing boy. It was a long time before he looked up, and during theseminutes Philip, with his head bowed low to the other, told him of allthat had happened in the little room at Wekusko. But he did not say thatit was he who had surprised the guard and released Thorpe and his wife.
At last MacGregor raised his head.
"Philip," he said, taking the young man's hand in both his own, "sinceshe was a little girl and I a big, strapping playmate of nineteen, Ihave loved her. She is the only girl--the only woman--I have ever loved.You understand? I am almost old enough to be her father. She was neverintended for me. But things like this happen--sometimes, and when shecame to plead with me the other day I almost yielded. That is why Ichose you, warned you--"
He stopped, and a sob rose in his breast.
"And at last you did yield," said Philip.
The inspector gazed at him for a moment in silence. Then he said:"It was ten years ago, on her seventeenth birthday, that I made her apresent of a little silver-bound autograph book, and on the first pageof that book I wrote the words which saved her husband--and her. Do youunderstand now, Philip? It was her last card, and she played it well."
He smiled faintly, and then said, as if to no one but himself, "Godbless her!"
He looked down on the big, tawny head that was bowed again upon thedesk, and placed his hands on the other's shoulders.
"God bless her!" echoed Philip.
"You are not alone in your sorrows, Felix MacGregor," he said softly."You asked me if I was beauty-proof. Yes, I am. And it is because ofsomething like this, because of a face and a soul that have filledmy heart, because of a woman that is not mine, and never can be mine,because of a love which ever burns, and must never be known--it isbecause of this that I am beauty-proof. God bless this little woman,MacGregor--and you--and I--will never ask where she has gone."
MacGregor's hand reached out and gripped his own in silence. In thathand-clasp there was sealed a pact between them, and Philip returned tohis barracks room to write a letter, in care of his father, to the manand woman whom he had helped to escape into the south. He spent thegreater part of that day writing. It was late in the afternoon thatMoody came in with the mail.
"One for you, Phil," he said, tossing a letter on Philip's table. "Looksas though it had been through a war."
Philip picked up the letter as the sergeant left him. He dropped his penwith a low whistle. He could see at a glance that the letter had come anunusual journey. It was dirty, and crumpled, and ragged at the ends--andthen, on the back of it, he found written in ink, "Lac Bain." Hisfingers trembled as he tore open the envelope. Swiftly he read. Hisbreath came in a gasping cry from between his lips, his face turnedas white as the crumpled paper, and then, as suddenly, a flush ofexcitement leaped into his cheeks, replacing the pallor. His eyesseemed blinded before he had half finished the letter, and his heart waspounding with suffocating force.
This was what he read:
My Dear Philip Steele:
Your letter, and the skull, came to us to-day. I thank God that chancebrought me into my Isobel's room in time, or I fear for what might havehappened. It was a terrible punishment, my dear Steele, for her--and forme. But I deserved it more than she. That very night--after Isobel leftthe table--she insisted that I explain. When I returned to the roombelow, you were gone. I waited, and then went to your cabin. Youknow why I did not find you. Steele, Isobel is not my wife. She is mydaughter.
Mrs. Becker had planned to come with me to Lac Bain from Fort Churchill,and we wrote the factor to that effect. But we changed our plans. Mrs.Becker returned on the London ship, and Isobel came with me. In a spiritof fun she suggested that for the first few hours she be allowed to passas--well, you understand. The joke was carried too far. When shemet you--and Bucky Nome--it ceased to be a joke, and almost became atragedy. For those few minutes before the fire Isobel used her disguiseas a test. She came to me, before you joined us, and whispered to methat Nome was a scoundrel, and that she would punish him before theevening was over. In the short space of that evening she knew that shehad met one of the most despicable of blackguards in Nome, and one ofthe noblest of men in you. And not until she saw
on you the effect ofwhat she was doing did everything dawn fully upon her.
You know what happened. She left the table suddenly, overcome by shameand terror. When I returned later, and told her that I could not findyou, it was impossible to comfort her. She lay in her bed crying allthat night. I am telling you all this, because to me my daughter is oneof the two most precious things on earth, the sweetest and purest littlegirl that ever breathed. I can not describe to you the effect upon herof the skull and the letter. Forgive us--forgive me. Some day we maymeet again,
Sylvester Becker.
Like one in a dream Philip picked up the torn envelope. Somethingdropped from it upon the table--a tiny cluster of violets that had beenpressed and dried between the pages of a book, and when he took them inhis fingers, he found that their stems were tied with a single thread ofgolden hair!