“To my mind,” continued the cook, “that same key has got something to do with them big booms of poles lyin’ out there in the bay waitin’ to be delivered to the Kam City Pulp and Paper Mills. Puttin’ one and two together I could see the drift of things so far as the strike is concerned if it wasn’t for all the queer side issues, includin’ that pretty girl that was stoppin’ out on Amethyst Island. What was the idea of her whiskin’ out of there the way she did?”

Hammond gasped. “Then—then she has left?”

“I thought you knew all about it.” Sandy Macdougal scrutinised his companion almost suspiciously.

“Honestly, Sandy, I’m in the dark. The last time I saw Miss Stone she said nothing about any plans for leaving in the near future.”

“Well, I’ll be jiggered! Why man, she left there the morning of the day you went to Kam City. She was supposed to have been carried off by a gang of Indians, and—”

“What’s that!” Hammond in his excitement leaped up seizing the other by the collar. “Are you joking, or is this the truth you’re telling me?”

“Hold your horses, hold your horses!” urged the cook. “I’m tellin’ you what was supposed to have happened—what the mounties claim they saw. You knew they had arrested the Rev. Stubbs, the camp preacher, for takin’ part in it, didn’t you?”

“You’re away off again, Sandy; they arrested him on a charge of vagrancy.”

“Vagrancy my eye! That was only a charge to hold him on until they could get the goods on him for takin’ part in the abduction of the girl, and I heard since that Stubbs got bail over in Kam City and jumped it. But I’m one that ain’t takin’ much stock in that abduction talk,” continued the cook. “For one thing, the Big Boss and that girl was on friendly terms; in fact, he was the first one she came to see after she landed out here, and it’s known he used to go out and see her on the island when you weren’t busy takin’ up her time.” The cook grinned maliciously. “Don’t you think it looks mighty odd that, knowin’, as he must have knowed, that she was carried off like that, the Big Boss would leave for Montreal without botherin’ his head about it? No, that ain’t a bit like Acey Smith from what I know of him.”

“Then you think—?”

“That the whole deal was a frame-up between her and the Big Boss to keep the Mounted Police busy on a false scent and to mystify everybody else that’s tryin’ to find out what the North Star’s up to.”

“I can’t believe that!”

“Oh, you can’t, eh? Well, have you got a better hunch? Bein’ a bit soft on the girl maybe has made you short-sighted. Hold on, don’t get mad; I don’t blame you a bit, ’cause they tell me she’s some lallapaluza for good looks. And I ain’t meanin’ to cast any reflections on her in this deal either. Only, I like you, Hammond, and I wanted to help you out with my hunch if it was any good to you, just in case some of the rest of them was puttin’ something over on you.”

Hammond for the moment was silent in the face of these assertions. “But I can’t for the life of me see,” he mused presently, “how Rev. Stubbs was mixed up in it as you say.”

“Search me.” Sandy threw out his hands significantly. “For another thing, did you know that since the girl was supposed to be kidnapped and the Rev. Stubbs was arrested, his nibs, Ogima Bush the Medicine Man, has dropped out of sight too? He hasn’t been seen anywhere inside or outside the camps.”

“That might easily be,” discounted Hammond. “The Medicine Man was always erratic in his comings and goings.”

“And you don’t think the girl was a party to the kidnappin’ frame-up?”

“No, I certainly do not!” There came a warning glint into Hammond’s eyes. “And I say that because I know Miss Stone would not willingly be a party to a crooked deal put up by Acey Smith or any one else.”

“H’m, then what happened her and where is she now?”

“I’ve got a theory where she’s been taken, and that’s what I’m going to set about proving right away.” Hammond rose and strode to the door. At the threshold he turned. “Sandy,” he said, “I’m awfully much obliged to you for this little chat, and I think you’ve helped me a whole lot with the problem. In a couple of days’ time I think I’ll be able to get at the bottom of this whole mystery, or else—”

“Or else what?” insisted the cook.

“Or else I’m going to the mat with Acey Smith and choke the truth out of him!”

The cook rose to offer some better advice, but Hammond flung out the door and hurried down to the waterfront.

II

Hammond went direct to the tent occupied by Inspector Little, the officer in command of the Mounties. The Inspector was busy with one of the members of his force going over some papers.

“Sorry to trouble you, Inspector,” opened Hammond, “but I’d like to make an appointment to meet you privately on a confidential matter.”

The inspector turned the papers he was examining face downwards on the little camp table and looked up. “If it is an important matter,” he suggested crisply, “we may as well deal with it at once.”

“It is quite important,” Hammond assured him.

Inspector Little turned to his aide. “You may go, Sergeant,” he indicated.

Alone with the officer, Hammond briefly explained that he was a personal friend of the young lady, Miss Josephine Stone, who had been carried away by force from Amethyst Island, and he had come to offer his services in helping to locate her. He added that he had a theory where she could be found and was ready to start on an expedition by himself to locate her once he had gained the necessary permission of the police. He briefly referred to the arrest of Rev. Nathan Stubbs and the rumour that he was suspected of being a party to the abduction. He said nothing, however, about his knowledge that the fake preacher was really a detective in the employ of Norman T. Gildersleeve, fearing such a statement would lead him into complications that would only delay the expedition he had in mind. He did express the opinion that the camp preacher could have had no part in the abduction.

The inspector stared at him fixedly. “What particular grounds have you for that last statement, Mr. Hammond?” he asked.

“Well, for one thing he was down here at the dock at noon when I left that day. I scarcely see how he could have got back here so soon.”

“That was Stubbs’ own contention when we quizzed him about it. So we arrested him on a nominal charge of vagrancy to hold him on suspicion of being implicated in the abduction. In the first place,” argued the officer, “if he were innocent, why should he jump one thousand dollars bail put up by his lawyer through mysterious friends? With much less than a thousand dollars he could have cleared himself of the vagrancy charge.”

Hammond knew the very important reason Norman T. Gildersleeve had for getting the pseudo preacher out of the awkward position his continued incarceration would have brought about, but he cautiously held silence on that point.

“We had, as a matter of fact, very good grounds for suspecting Stubbs of not only being implicated but of being the ring-leader in the abduction of the young lady,” Inspector Little continued.

“Then he was actually seen taking part in the abduction?”

“Disguised, yes,” enlightened the inspector. “There has been something altogether queer going on in these camps for some time as you likely know from your own experiences, and I have no doubt the carrying off of Miss Stone is but a side issue of some intrigue on foot between these rival lumbermen. One or the other of the companies concerned must have put up Stubbs’ bail.

“However, I have to admit that suspicion first fell upon the camp preacher through some chance remarks on the part of Mr. A. C. Smith, the superintendent, on the very morning the affair took place. Mr. Smith came down to my tent early to ask me to go up and have breakfast with him and to inquire if there were anything he or any of his men could do to help us out in getting settled. A mighty charming and interesting chap that man Smith for all his enemies say about him, and he has at least shown us every courtesy since we’ve been here.

“Well, when we were just about to leave for the dining camp he whirled and asked me a remarkable question. ‘Did you ever know of one man successfully impersonating two different characters in life, Inspector Little?’ He put it with that odd little smile of his—a sort of whimsical grin that makes you think he’s reading your answer before you utter it.

“‘Well,’ I answered in a spirit of banter, ‘there was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, for instance, and I’ve known certain actors on the stage who did it pretty smartly.’

“But he seemed to be serious about it. ‘I have reason to suspect such a dual role is being played in real life on these limits,’ he said. Then he asked: ‘Did you closely observe that camp preacher, Rev. Nathan Stubbs, who was down around the docks here a little while ago?’

“‘I did,’ I answered, for it is part of our business to take sharp note of all strange characters.

“‘And you looked over the Indian Medicine Man they call Ogima Bush who was around here when you were putting up your tents late yesterday afternoon?’

“I told him I had, wondering all the time what he was coming to. Then he asked me if I had noted a peculiarity about both their eyes; that, while the Indian had two little wounds either painted or gashed under his, the camp preacher had talcum or some other powder thickly spread over what seemed to be tiny scars in the same places on his face.“‘By Jove,’ I answered, ‘now that you mention it, I have noticed that, and though their clothing, colour of skin and get-up is different, they are about the one height and build.’

“‘And they are both mysteries,’ he supplemented.

“‘Harmless fakirs, though?’ I hazarded.

“‘If they were,’ he replied briskly, ‘or rather if I were sure they were, I wouldn’t take up your time about the matter. I am convinced, Inspector, that they are both very dangerous characters.’

“His tone of conviction impressed me. ‘And you feel certain it is one man playing two rÔles?’ I insisted.

“‘Oh, I’m not saying that,’ he replied. ‘But the fact that you have noted the same facial peculiarity in those two characters gives me an idea which is further strengthened by the circumstance that no one has seen the two of them about any part of the camps at the same time.’

“I thereupon suggested that if he, as superintendent of the camps, requested it we could arrest the party on a charge of vagrancy while he was playing either rÔle and thus get at the bottom of the thing. But, on the other hand, I added, I would much favour keeping a close watch on the actions of both Ogima Bush and Rev. Nathan Stubbs until such time as there appeared to be more definite grounds for making an arrest.

“‘That would be much the better plan, Inspector,’ he approved. ‘As I am going away from camp for a few days I thought I would at least draw your attention to the circumstances, and, in case there might be some mischief afoot behind this apparent masquerading, you could be on the lookout for it.’

“I thanked him and the subject was not again mentioned during our conversation. That very morning, and it must have been a short time after our talk, Miss Stone was forcibly carried off by a band of Indians headed by the Medicine Man.”

Hammond sat bolt upright at this information, but he suppressed comment while the inspector proceeded.

III

“It was not until the patrol down at Amethyst Island waterfront had exhausted every effort to run down the abductors of the young lady and failed that they sent in a report to us. The result was that we didn’t hear of it until after dinner. The preacher was in the camp, seemingly quite confident that his disguise was impenetrable. His surprise when the handcuffs were slipped onto him was good enough to be genuine. Sure enough though when a handkerchief was applied to the paste and talc powder on his cheek bones it disclosed two tiny white scars under either eye in the self-same spots where the Indian had the red gashes, not to mention the false beard which we left on his face for the time being.”

Hammond sat dumbfounded at this recital. Those tiny white scars under each eye! Gildersleeve was the only white man he had ever seen with such peculiar marks. So—so Gildersleeve had really played the part of the camp preacher himself? That much was patent now, and there seemed every circumstantial incident to imply that he was also Ogima Bush, though Hammond could scarcely conceive that any make-up could transform a white man into such a thorough-going savage.

“The rest of the story is likely familiar to you, Mr. Hammond,” the inspector was proceeding. “You know how Stubbs was arraigned in Kam City on a charge of vagrancy, bailed out by friends and immediately disappeared. It is all a mighty queer mix-up that stands in need of thorough investigation, but,” with a wave of the hand and a raising of the brows, “the Mounted force were sent out here to protect property and maintain law and order in case of a strike, and without a shadow of a clue to work on it’s pretty difficult getting on the trail of the principals behind the outrage on Amethyst Island. Now, if you have any additional facts that would be of use to us, or can give us tangible help of any sort in locating Miss Stone, we will certainly be glad to avail ourselves of your assistance.”

Hammond was incensed at the evident duplicity of Gildersleeve. But at the same time he was tired of theorising, and of attempting to unravel the puzzles which Nannabijou Camp confronted him with almost daily since he had first arrived there. So he thrust aside the temptation to enlighten the head of the Mounties on what he knew of the part Gildersleeve must have played.

“I told you I had a theory as to where Miss Stone has been carried off,” he reminded the inspector. “As a matter of fact, I am certain she has been taken up into a hiding-place in the Cup of Nannabijou.”

“What—up above those cliffs on the hill? Why, man, our chaps say there’s no opening in that wall of cliffs and they are unscalable.”

“They are popularly believed to be so,” replied Hammond, “but it is a fact that there are parties who make a headquarters of some sort up there, and they have a secret entrance.”

“Well!” The inspector pursed his moustached mouth in polite skepticism. “You know how they get in and out?”

“Not for certain, but I do know a better and a quicker method.”

“Yes?”

“The air route.”

“H’mph.” The inspector evinced a sudden interest. “Yes, that would be practical for scouring the whole country back of here. But where are you going to get an airplane and an airman?”

“There’s an old scouting single-seater in Kam City in fairly good shape. I happened to see it in the armouries while I was rambling around the city a couple of days before I first came out here. It’s the property of the government. That’s why I came to you; as head of the Mounted Police you could no doubt induce the government authorities to lend us the machine for this purpose.”

“But your airman?”

For answer Hammond threw back the lapel of his coat displaying the airman’s wings which he modestly wore over his left vest-pocket. “I can take care of that part of it,” he suggested. “I saw three years’ hard work in the air overseas, two years of which I put in playing tag with Fritz.”

“Good enough!” Proof that Hammond had been a fighting airman seemed to dissipate the inspector’s last doubt.

“There’ll be no harm in giving this thing a try,” he decided, “and by Jove, we’ll get busy right off. We’ll send you over to Kam City in one of the police motorboats to-morrow morning. I’ll give you a wire to file to Major Lynn at Ottawa, and he’ll get things through for us without unnecessary red tape. But look you, Hammond, when you go up to the Cup you have only instructions to look around, get the lay of the land and come right back here to me. Then we’ll act!”

The inspector glanced at his watch. “Now, by the way,” he suggested, “I’ve some confounded routine to look after that will keep me busy for the best part of a couple of hours. But after tea drop in for an hour or so, old chap, and we’ll have a pipe and talk over the details of this thing.”

Hammond went away highly elated. At last he was to get a real chance to do some active work in ferreting out the mystery of the Nannabijou Limits, and—he fervently hoped—to meet again Josephine Stone, the girl with the high-arched eyebrows, and the woman of his dreams.