Carmen's Messenger Read online

  X

  THE DROVE ROAD

  Foster spent the next day lounging about Edinburgh and looking out forDaly, whom he had expected to follow him. He, however, saw nothing ofthe man, and felt half disappointed, because he missed the excitementof the chase. It was too cold and wet to roam the streets with muchenjoyment, there was no good play at the theaters, and he had seenpicture palaces in Canada. Moreover, he had led an active life, andhaving nothing to do soon began to get irksome. It was curious that hehad never felt bored at the Garth, even when he scarcely saw Aliceduring the day, but then the Garth had a peculiar charm. It waspossible that Daly had gone back there, and he had been a fool to leave.

  He was sitting in the hotel smoking-room next morning when a strangercame up and sat down close by. The man had a quiet, thoughtful air,and lighted his pipe. There was nothing about him to indicate his rankor occupation, and Foster wondered what he wanted.

  "I hope you won't object to my asking if you're a Canadian?" he said.

  "I don't know if I object or not. Anyhow, I'm English."

  "But perhaps you have been in Canada," the stranger remarked politely.

  Foster looked hard at him. "I haven't the pleasure of youracquaintance, but had better hint that you're wasting time if you're afriend of Daly's."

  The stranger smiled and Foster saw that he had been incautious. "Idon't know the gentleman."

  "Then what is your business?"

  "If you insist on knowing, I'm connected with the police."

  "Well," said Foster, "I'll pay you a compliment by stating that Iwouldn't have imagined it; but I don't understand what the police haveto do with me."

  "It's very possible that they have nothing to do with you, but you canperhaps make that plain. You signed the visitor's book John Foster,which doesn't quite correspond with the letters on your bag."

  "Ah!" said Foster, "I begin to understand. No doubt, you noticedLawrence Featherstone's name on the lock, and the Canadian Pacificlabel?"

  "I did," the other admitted with humorous dryness.

  Foster pondered. On the whole, he was glad he had registered in hisproper name, though he had been tempted to give Featherstone's, in caseDaly made inquiries. He had, however, decided that the latter probablythought they were both in Great Britain and would expect them to keeptogether. He did not doubt that his visitor belonged to the police,because an impostor would be easily found out.

  "Featherstone's my partner and I took his baggage by mistake when weleft a small Canadian town," he said, and added after a pause: "Iexpect the explanation sounds rather lame."

  The other smiled, but Foster felt he was being subjected to a veryclose scrutiny. Although sensible of some annoyance, he felt inclinedto like the man, who presently resumed: "You have been in Edinburghbefore."

  "For a day; I left in the evening and went to Newcastle."

  "To Newcastle?" said the other thoughtfully. "Did you stay there?"

  "I did not," said Foster, thinking frankness was best. "I went back toa country house in Northumberland that belongs to my partner's father.Lawrence Featherstone and I own a sawmill in Canada, but at present I'mtaking a holiday in the Old Country."

  He could not tell if the man was satisfied or not, for he askedabruptly: "Who is the Mr. Daly you mentioned?"

  "I really don't know. It looks as if he were something of ablackmailer, and I must admit that I was trying to keep out of his way."

  The man pondered for a minute, and then getting up gave Foster a card.

  "Very well; I don't think I need keep you. You have my address if youshould want to communicate with me."

  He went out and Foster thought he had not handled the situation withmuch skill. It was a mistake to mention Daly and perhaps to state thathe had been to Newcastle. He thought the man looked interested when heheard this. Then it was curious that he seemed to imagine Foster mightwant to write to him; but he began to see a possible reason for hisbeing watched. Hulton had, no doubt, sent somebody over to inquireabout the stolen bonds, and if the man had discovered anythingimportant, he might have asked the help of the police. In this case,the movements of strangers from Canada would be noted. The trouble wasthat Foster could not be frank with the police, because Lawrence'ssecret must be carefully guarded.

  In the afternoon he entered a fashionable tea-room and sat for a timein a corner. The room was divided into quiet nooks by Moorish arches,from which lamps of an antique pattern hung by chains and threw down asoft red glow. Heavy imitation Eastern curtains deadened the hum ofvoices and rattle of cups. The air was warm and scented, the lightdim, and Foster, who had often camped in the snow, felt amused by theaffectation of sensual luxury as he ate iced cakes and languidlywatched the people. He could only see two or three men, one of whom hehad noticed at the hotel and afterwards passed in the street. This wasprobably a coincidence, but it might have a meaning, and he moved backbehind the arch that cut off his corner. When he next looked about,the fellow had gone. There were, however, a number of pretty,fashionably-dressed girls, and he remarked the warm color in theirfaces and the clearness of their voices. The Scottish capital seemedto be inhabited by handsome women.

  He was, however, somewhat surprised when one came towards him and herecognized the girl he had met at Hawick station. He had hardlyexpected her to claim his acquaintance, as she obviously meant to do.

  "You seem to be fond of Edinburgh," she remarked, sitting down at histable.

  "It's an interesting city. I'm a stranger and ignorant of youretiquette; but would I be permitted to send for some cakes and tea?"

  "I think not," she answered, smiling. "For one thing, I must go in aminute."

  Foster waited. The girl had good manners, and he thought it unlikelythat she was willing to begin a flirtation with a man she did not know;besides she had stopped him sending for the tea. She was pretty, andhad a certain air of refinement, but it was a dainty prettiness thatsomehow harmonized with the exotic luxury of the room. This was adifferent thing from Alice Featherstone's rather stately beauty, whichfound an appropriate background in the dignified austerity of the Garth.

  "Are you enjoying your stay here?" she resumed. "I begin to think I'vehad enough. The climate's not very cheerful, and the people seemsuspicious about strangers."

  "The Scots are proverbially cautious," she answered carelessly, butFoster thought he saw a gleam of interest in her eyes. "I supposesomebody has been bothering you with questions?"

  "Yes; as I'm of a retiring character, it annoys me. Besides, I reallythink it's quite unjustified. Do I look dangerous?"

  "No," she said with a twinkle, "if you did, I shouldn't have venturedto speak to you. On the contrary, you have a candid air that ought tobanish distrust. Of course, I don't know if it's deceptive."

  "You have to know people for some time before you understand them, but,on the whole, I imagine I'm harmless," Foster replied. "That's whatmakes it galling. If I had, for example, a part in some dark plot, Icouldn't resent being watched. As it happens, I merely want to get asmuch innocent pleasure as possible out of a holiday, and feel vexedwhen people won't let me."

  The girl gave him a quick, searching look, and then said carelessly,"One can sympathize with you; it is annoying to be watched. But afterall, Edinburgh's rather dull just now, and the cold winds are trying tostrangers."

  "Is this a hint that I ought to go away?"

  "Do you take hints?" she asked with a smile. "Somehow I imagine you'rerather an obstinate man. I suppose you took the packet to Newcastle?"

  "I did," Foster admitted in an apologetic voice. "You see, I promisedto deliver the thing."

  "And, of course, you kept your word! Well, that was very nice of you,but I wouldn't make any rash promises while you stay in this country.Sometimes they lead one into difficulties. But I must go."

  She left him with a friendly smile, and he sat down again in athoughtful mood. It looked as if she had had an object in talking tohim, and she had lea
rned that he had gone to Newcastle and had sincebeen watched. He gathered that she thought the things had someconnection, though her remarks were guarded. Then she had given himanother hint, which he meant to act upon.

  Leaving the tea-room, he walked for a short distance and then stoppedon the pavement in Princes Street and looked about. It was dark, but abiting wind had cleared the air. At one end of the imposing street aconfused glimmer marked the neighborhood of the Caledonian station, andwhen one looked the other way a long row of lights ran on, and thencurving round and rising sharply, ended in a cluster of twinklingpoints high against the sky. The dark, blurred mass they gatheredround was the Castle rock, and below it the tall spire of the Scottmonument was faintly etched against the shadowy hollow where thegardens sloped away.

  Now he had resolved to leave the city, Foster felt its charm and halfresented being, in a manner, forced to go, but walked on, musing on theway women had recently meddled with his affairs. To begin with, Carmenhad given him the troublesome packet, then it was largely for AliceFeatherstone's sake he had embarked on a fresh adventure, and now thegirl in the tea-room had warned him to leave the town. It was aprivilege to help Alice, but the others' interference was, so to speak,superfluous. A man could devote himself to pleasing one woman, but onewas enough.

  After a few minutes he stopped and looked into a shop window as a manpassed a neighboring lamp. It was Daly and the fellow moved slowly,although Foster did not think he had seen him yet. He would know verysoon and for a moment or two he felt his heart beat, but when he lookedround Daly had passed. Foster followed and saw him enter the tea-room.This was disturbing, although Foster remembered that he had told nobodyhe was going there. He decided to leave Edinburgh as soon as he couldnext morning and bought a map of southern Scotland on his way back tothe hotel.

  After dinner, he sat down in the smoking-room near a man to whom he hadonce or twice spoken. The latter was a red-faced, keen-eyed oldfellow, and looked like a small country laird.

  "I've come over to see Scotland and have been long enough in thecapital," he said. "After all, you can't judge a country by its towns.What would you advise?"

  "It depends upon what ye want to see?" the man replied.

  "I think I'd like the moors and hills. I get enough of industrialactivity in Ontario, and would sooner hear the grouse and theblack-cock than shipyard hammers. Then I'd prefer to take my time andgo on foot."

  His companion nodded approval. "Ye have sense. Are ye a good walker?"

  "I have walked three hundred miles through pretty rough country anddragged my belongings on a hand-sledge."

  "Then I think I can tell ye how to see rugged Scotland, for the countryhas two different sides. Ye can take your choice, but ye cannot seeboth at once. I could send ye by main roads, where the tourists'motors run, to the show-places, where ye would stay at smart hotels,with Swiss and London waiters, and learn as much o' Scottish characteras ye would in Lucerne or the Strand."

  "I don't think that is quite what I want. Besides, I haven't much timeand would sooner keep to the south."

  "Then ye'll take the high ground and go by tracks the moss-troopersrode, winding up the waters and among the fells, where there's onlycothouse clachans and lonely farm-towns. Ye'll see there why the oldScottish stock grows firm and strong and the bit, bleak country breedsmen who make it respected across the world. Man, if I had notrheumatism and some fashious business I cannot neglect, we would takethe moors together!"

  "You don't seem to like the smart hotels," Foster remarked, half amused.

  "I do not like the folk they harbor. The dusty trippers in leathercoats and goggles ye meet at Melrose and Jedburgh are an affront to anold Scottish town. But a man on foot, in clothes that match the lingand the gray bents, gives a human touch to the scene, whether ye meethim by a wind-ruffled lochan or on the broad moor. Ye ken he has comeslowly through the quiet hills, for the love o' what he sees. But yewill not understand an old man's havering!"

  "I think I do," said Foster. "One learns the charm of the lone trailin the Canadian bush. But I have a map, and don't care much where Igo, so long as it's somewhere south. Suppose you mark me out a routetowards Liddesdale."

  The man did so, and jotted down a few marginal notes.

  "I'm sending ye by the old drove roads," he explained. "Sometimesye'll find them plain enough, but often they're rough green tracks, andnobody can tell ye when they were made. The moss-troopers wore themdeeper when they rode with the spear and steel-cap to Solway sands.Afterwards came the drovers with their flocks and herds, the smugglers'pack-horse trains, and messengers to Prince Charlie's friends fromLouis of France. That's why the old road runs across the fell, whilethe turnpike keeps the valley. If ye follow my directions, ye'll maybefind the link between industrial Scotland and the stormy past; it's inthe cothouse and clachan the race is bred that made and keeps aliveGlasgow and Dundee."

  Foster thanked him and examined the map. It was clearly drawn andshowed the height and natural features of the country, which wasobviously rough. The path marked out led over the Border hills, dippedinto winding valleys, and skirted moorland lakes. It seemed to drawhim as he studied it, for the wilderness has charm, and the drove roadran through heathy wastes far from the smoke of factories and miningtowns. Well, he was ready to cross the bleak uplands, withouttroubling much about the mist and rain, for he had faced worse wintersthan any Scotland knew, but he reflected with grim amusement that Dalywould find the traveling rough if he got on his trail.

  There were, however, some things he needed for the journey, and he wentout to buy them while the shops were open. Next morning he gaveinstructions that letters for himself and Lawrence should be sent toPeebles, and when the clerk objected that he could not forwardFeatherstone's without the latter's orders, said it did not matter. Hehad left a clew for Daly, which was all he wanted, but, in order tomake it plainer, he sent the porter to the station with the bag andtold him to wait by the Peebles train. Then he set off, dressed in theoldest clothes he had, wondering what adventures he would meet with inthe wilds.