The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [17]
stay this trip. We are rather hard worked just now, to tell the truth."
"Hard worked?" she asked.
"Yes. Patrol work rather heavy. But I must stop Cameron in his hospitable design," he added, as he passed out of the door.
It was a full half hour before the men returned, to find supper spread and Mandy waiting. It was a large and cheerful apartment that did both for kitchen and living room. The sides were made of logs hewn smooth, plastered and whitewashed. The oak joists and planking above were stained brown. At one end of the kitchen two doors led to as many rooms, at the other a large stone fireplace, with a great slab for mantelpiece. On this slab stood bits of china bric-a-brac, and what not, relics abandoned by the gallant and chivalrous Fraser for the bride and her house furnishing. The prints, too, upon the wall, hunting scenes of the old land, sea- scenes, moorland and wild cattle, with many useful and ornamental bits of furniture, had all been handed over with true Highland generosity by the outgoing owner.
In the fireplace, for the night had a touch of frost in it, a log fire blazed and sparked, lending to the whole scene an altogether delightful air of comfort.
"I say, this does look jolly!" cried the Inspector as he entered. "Cameron, you lucky dog, do you really imagine you know how jolly well off you are, coddled thus in the lap of comfort and surrounded with all the enervating luxuries of an effete and forgotten civilization? Come now, own up, you are beginning to take this thing as a matter of course."
But Cameron stood with his back to the light, busying himself with his fishing tackle and fish, and ignoring the Inspector's cheerful chatter. And thus he remained without a word while the Inspector talked on in a voluble flow of small talk quite unusual with him.
Throughout the supper Cameron remained silent, rallying spasmodically with gay banter to the Inspector's chatter, or answering at random, but always falling silent again, and altogether was so unlike himself that Mandy fell to wondering, then became watchful, then anxious. At length the Inspector himself fell silent, as if perceiving the uselessness of further pretense.
"What is it, Allan?" said Mandy quietly, when silence had fallen upon them all. "You might as well let me know."
"Tell her, for God's sake," said her husband to the Inspector.
"What is it?" inquired Mandy.
The Inspector handed her a letter.
"From Superintendent Strong to my Chief," he said.
She took it and as she read her face went now white with fear, now red with indignation. At length she flung the letter down.
"What a man he is to be sure!" she cried scornfully. "And what nonsense is this he writes. With all his men and officers he must come for my husband! What is HE doing? And all the others? It's just his own stupid stubbornness. He always did object to our marriage."
The Inspector was silent. Cameron was silent too. His boyish face, for he was but a lad, seemed to have grown old in those few minutes. The Inspector wore an ashamed look, as if detected in a crime.
"And because he is not clever enough to catch this man they must come for my husband to do it for them. He is not a Policeman. He has nothing to do with the Force."
And still the Inspector sat silent, as if convicted of both crime and folly.
At length Cameron spoke.
"It is quite impossible, Inspector. I can't do it. You quite see how impossible it is."
"Most certainly you can't," eagerly agreed the Inspector. "I knew from the first it was a piece of--sheer absurdity--in fact brutal inhumanity. I told the Commissioner so."
"It isn't as if I was really needed, you know. The Superintendent's idea is, as you say, quite absurd."
The Inspector gravely nodded.
"You don't think for a moment," continued Cameron, "there is any need--any real need I mean--for me to--" Cameron's voice died away.
The Inspector hesitated and cleared his throat. "Well--of course, we are desperately short-handed, you know. Every man is overworked.
"Hard worked?" she asked.
"Yes. Patrol work rather heavy. But I must stop Cameron in his hospitable design," he added, as he passed out of the door.
It was a full half hour before the men returned, to find supper spread and Mandy waiting. It was a large and cheerful apartment that did both for kitchen and living room. The sides were made of logs hewn smooth, plastered and whitewashed. The oak joists and planking above were stained brown. At one end of the kitchen two doors led to as many rooms, at the other a large stone fireplace, with a great slab for mantelpiece. On this slab stood bits of china bric-a-brac, and what not, relics abandoned by the gallant and chivalrous Fraser for the bride and her house furnishing. The prints, too, upon the wall, hunting scenes of the old land, sea- scenes, moorland and wild cattle, with many useful and ornamental bits of furniture, had all been handed over with true Highland generosity by the outgoing owner.
In the fireplace, for the night had a touch of frost in it, a log fire blazed and sparked, lending to the whole scene an altogether delightful air of comfort.
"I say, this does look jolly!" cried the Inspector as he entered. "Cameron, you lucky dog, do you really imagine you know how jolly well off you are, coddled thus in the lap of comfort and surrounded with all the enervating luxuries of an effete and forgotten civilization? Come now, own up, you are beginning to take this thing as a matter of course."
But Cameron stood with his back to the light, busying himself with his fishing tackle and fish, and ignoring the Inspector's cheerful chatter. And thus he remained without a word while the Inspector talked on in a voluble flow of small talk quite unusual with him.
Throughout the supper Cameron remained silent, rallying spasmodically with gay banter to the Inspector's chatter, or answering at random, but always falling silent again, and altogether was so unlike himself that Mandy fell to wondering, then became watchful, then anxious. At length the Inspector himself fell silent, as if perceiving the uselessness of further pretense.
"What is it, Allan?" said Mandy quietly, when silence had fallen upon them all. "You might as well let me know."
"Tell her, for God's sake," said her husband to the Inspector.
"What is it?" inquired Mandy.
The Inspector handed her a letter.
"From Superintendent Strong to my Chief," he said.
She took it and as she read her face went now white with fear, now red with indignation. At length she flung the letter down.
"What a man he is to be sure!" she cried scornfully. "And what nonsense is this he writes. With all his men and officers he must come for my husband! What is HE doing? And all the others? It's just his own stupid stubbornness. He always did object to our marriage."
The Inspector was silent. Cameron was silent too. His boyish face, for he was but a lad, seemed to have grown old in those few minutes. The Inspector wore an ashamed look, as if detected in a crime.
"And because he is not clever enough to catch this man they must come for my husband to do it for them. He is not a Policeman. He has nothing to do with the Force."
And still the Inspector sat silent, as if convicted of both crime and folly.
At length Cameron spoke.
"It is quite impossible, Inspector. I can't do it. You quite see how impossible it is."
"Most certainly you can't," eagerly agreed the Inspector. "I knew from the first it was a piece of--sheer absurdity--in fact brutal inhumanity. I told the Commissioner so."
"It isn't as if I was really needed, you know. The Superintendent's idea is, as you say, quite absurd."
The Inspector gravely nodded.
"You don't think for a moment," continued Cameron, "there is any need--any real need I mean--for me to--" Cameron's voice died away.
The Inspector hesitated and cleared his throat. "Well--of course, we are desperately short-handed, you know. Every man is overworked.