On the few rests the dogs were compelled to take on their way back to Carcajou, Dr. Starr again questioned Stefan, carefully. The story Madge had told him was interesting, it sounded a little like some of those tales of detectives and plots marvelously unraveled, but the trouble was that no sleuth was at work and the mystery was as deep as ever. He inquired carefully in regard to the enemies Hugo might have made, but struck an absolute blank. Yes, there was one fellow Hugo had licked, but a couple of weeks later the young man had obliged him with a small loan, which had been cheerfully repaid, and the individual in question had moved a couple of hundred miles east. Oh, that was way back last summer!

Having thus easily eliminated the masculine element of Carcajou, it took no great effort on the doctor’s part to turn to the women. Were there any who had reason to dislike him; had he made love to any of them?

“Hugo make lofe to any gals in Carcajou!” exclaimed Stefan, holding a burning match in his fingers and letting it go out. “Hugo don’t nefer make lofe to nobotty. Dere’s McGurn’s gal over to the store as looked like she vanted bad to make lofe to him; alvays runnin’ after Hugo, she vos. Vhen he go in de post-office she alvays smile awful sveet at Hugo, and dere’s dem as say she vere pretty mad because he don’t never pay no attention. Vhat he care for de red-headed t’ing?”

“She looks after all the mail, doesn’t she?” asked the doctor.

“Yes, McGurn he too busy vid oder t’ings. De gal tends to all de letters an’ papers.”

This seemed an indication worth following. When they reached the depot at Carcajou, Joe Follansbee informed them that the freight would be about an hour late. Madge had, during the course of her story, told the doctor all about the visit of the Carcajou Vigilantes, and from Stefan he had obtained the names of the people who had made up the party. Most of them were known to him, since he was frequently called to Carcajou, especially when the mill was running. From the girl he had obtained the letters she received from Hugo, as she had formerly believed. The 281 matter could not be allowed to rest. He must investigate things further. Meeting old man Prouty, whom he had once cured of rheumatism, he drew him aside. The old man quite willingly told of his share in the event.

“We only wanted to see that everything was straight and aboveboard,” he told the doctor. “And there wouldn’t have been no fuss there at all if Sophy McGurn hadn’t come out kinder crazy; the way them excitable women-folks does, sometimes.”

“What did she do?” asked Dr. Starr.

“Oh, she went an’ accused that young ’ooman over there of havin’ tried to murder Hugo. Said somethin’ about the gal wantin’ to get square on him for––for somethin’ or other as ain’t very clear. But soon as Pat Kilrea he begins to pin her down to facts she takes it all back an’ says she don’t really know nothin’.”

“Thanks, Mr. Prouty, I’m very much obliged to you. I’ll stroll over there.”

He walked over to the general store and post-office where he was greeted by old McGurn, who at his request produced a box of cigars.

“Yes, Doc, I can recommend them,” he said. “There was a drummer stopped here last week who said they smelled just like real 282 Havanas. I bought two barrels of crockery off him.”

The doctor nodded, admiring the drummer’s diplomacy, and walked over to the other counter behind which Miss Sophy was standing.

“How do you do, Miss McGurn?” he said, amiably.

“How d’ye do? How’s Hugo––Hugo Ennis?” she asked, eagerly.

“He may perhaps pull through, though he’s still hanging on to a pretty thin chance. I suppose you know that you’re soon going to be called as a witness?”

“Me?” she exclaimed. “What for?”

“Well, that story about an accident looks rather fishy to me, you know. I have an idea that it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have the sheriff come over here and investigate things a little. We’re beginning to get too civilized on this line to stand for gun-play. I’ve talked over the matter with some of the people who went with you to Roaring River, and I gather that you are the only one who can enlighten us a little.”

“I––I don’t know anything!” she stammered.

“You’re probably too modest, Miss McGurn, or you may perhaps be trying to 283 shield some one. That shows your kind heart, of course, but it won’t quite do for the law. At any rate you will tell us what aroused your suspicions. It’s very important, you know, for the slightest clue may be of service. And then, of course, there is the matter of the letters.”

“What letters?” cried the girl, biting her lips.

“Oh, just some letters that passed through this office. Let me see, where did I put them? Always indispensable to secure all documents. Miss Nelson gave them to me.”

Very slowly he pulled the letters out of his pocket, while his keen eyes searched Sophy’s face, gravely. She was distinctly ill at ease, he observed.

“There has been a queer mix-up. These documents can hardly be called forgery, since there is no attempt to imitate the real handwriting of the person who is supposed to have written them. It’s simply a clumsy attempt to deceive, as far as I can see. But the strange thing is that several letters came from New York, apparently, and have never been received. It seems that they must have come through this office and the post-office authorities will be asked to trace them. They are always glad to hear of any irregularities, of 284 course, and will send an expert here, naturally, if mere inquiry does not suffice. Those chaps are wonderfully clever, you know. They seem to be able to find out anything they want to know. The letters I am showing you came through Carcajou, there’s your stamp on the envelopes. The detective will compare this handwriting with that of every man, woman and child in Carcajou and the neighborhood, and while it is certainly disguised, there’s so much of it that they will certainly find out who sent them. It––it’s going to prove devilish tough for somebody, you may be sure. Of course I’m no lawyer and can’t tell what the charge will be, perhaps conspiracy of some sort, or making use of the mails for some fraudulent or––or some prohibited purpose. But that’s evidently no concern of ours and I know you’ll help the authorities to the best of your ability. You will naturally do all you can because no postmaster likes to have any irregularity in his office. That sort of thing generally means taking it away from the holder and putting it in other hands. Your father would be pretty angry if anything like that happened, because while you attend to the mails, he’s really the responsible party.”

Miss Sophy may not have realized how 285 keenly the doctor was looking at her. He was now feeling quite certain that his suspicions had fallen on the guilty party. Here was a jealous woman who evidently knew a good deal. Putting two and two together is the very essence of scientific thought and Dr. Starr was no beginner. Sophy’s foot was beating a rapid tattoo on the floor. On her face the color kept going and coming.

“Somebody has done a very foolish thing,” continued the doctor. “Perhaps it was not realized that it was also a very wicked one. At any rate there is a lot of trouble coming. I will bid you good-day.”

He turned on his heels, lighting the cigar he had bought and looking quite unconcerned. Sophy hastened around the counter and intercepted him at the door, following him out. She touched his arm.

“Do––do they suspect any one?” she asked.

“I think I may have spoken too much, Miss McGurn,” answered the doctor, with a face that had suddenly become exceedingly stern. “It is not for me to answer your question. Of course, it’s in my power to tell the sheriff that there is no longer any suspicion that the shooting was otherwise than accidental, and I could perhaps also persuade 286 Miss Nelson not to follow this matter of the letters any further. I think that she would follow my advice in the matter. But I have no intention of interfering until––until I know everything––down––to––the––last––word!”

He accentuated this by striking with his fist into an open hand, slowly, as if driving in a rebellious spike. They were alone on the little veranda of the store. Within her breast the girl’s heart was throbbing with fear––with the terror of exposure and unknown punishments. She felt that this man knew the exact truth and she had the sensation of some animal cornered and seeing but a single avenue of escape.

“But I have found out everything I wanted to know, Miss McGurn,” Dr. Starr told her, suddenly. “Unless I have a written confession in my hands I shall let matters take their course. It––is––for––you––to––choose.”

He looked at his watch.

“My train should be here in fifteen minutes,” he told her. “After that it will be too late!”

Then the girl broke down. Wild thoughts had come and gone. If a weapon had been at hand she might, in obedience to the behest 287 of a wild and fiery nature, have stabbed the man who so calmly faced her. But she felt utterly helpless and her fear and despair became supreme.

“I––I’ll write whatever you want me to, if––if you promise not to tell!” she cried.

“I’m not quite prepared to accept conditions,” he answered. “I intend to show the paper to Ennis and to Miss Nelson. They have a right to know the truth. But I can promise that they will carry the matter no farther, and that I shall see that neither the sheriff nor the post-office authorities will interfere. There are but a few minutes left now.”

She rushed into the store again and went to the desk. Her father was no longer in the room. With feverish speed she wrote while the doctor bent over her, suggesting a word now and then. Finally she signed the paper and handed it to him.

“I think you had better give me those answers now,” he suggested. “Those directed to A. B. C.”

From Box 17 she took the letters and handed them over without a word, and the doctor carefully placed them in his pocket with the others.

“I think you’ve been very wise in taking my advice, Miss McGurn,” he told her. “It was the only way out of trouble. Isn’t that the freight’s whistle? I’ll hurry off. Good-day to you.”

He stepped quickly across the space that separated him from the station. On the platform Joe Follansbee greeted him pleasantly.

“A fine clear day, doctor,” said the station agent.

“Yes, everything is beautifully clear now,” answered Dr. Starr amiably. “Shouldn’t wonder if this were about the last of the cold weather.”

Then he got on the caboose, where the crew welcomed him. As one of the company doctors he had the right to ride on anything that came along, and the men were always glad to see him. They made him comfortable in a corner and offered him hot tea and large soggy buns. But he thanked them, smilingly, and sat down in a corner. From his bag he took out a medical journal and was soon immersed in an exceedingly interesting article on hysteria.

Strangely enough, at that very moment Miss Sophy had run up to her room and thrown herself on the bed, face downwards and buried in a pillow. She was weeping 289 and uttering incoherent cries. When her mother came in, alarmed, the old lady was indignantly ordered out again while the girl’s feet beat against the mattress hurriedly, and she bit the knuckles of her hands.