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Updated: June 29, 2025
A divil of a timper always both of us had, but the good-nature was with me, and I didn't drink and gamble and carry a pistol. It's ten years since he did the killing, down in Quebec, and I don't suppose the police will get him now. He's been counted dead. I recognised him here the night after I asked her how she liked the name of Finden. She doesn't know that I ever knew him.
Varley was white. He had been leading his horse and talking to Finden. He mounted quickly now, and was about to ride away, but stopped short again. "Who knows who knows the truth?" he asked. "Father Bourassa and me no others," he answered. "I knew Meydon thirty years ago." There was a moment's hesitation, then Varley said hoarsely, "Tell me tell me all."
As Finden had said, "She was forever acting, and never doin' any harm by it." Certainly she was doing no harm by it now; nevertheless, it was acting. Could it be otherwise, with what was behind her life a husband who had ruined her youth, had committed homicide, had escaped capture, but who had not subsequently died, as the world believed he had done, so circumstantial was the evidence.
Finden caught a glimpse of a woman's figure, and, without a word, passed abruptly from the dining-room where they were, into the priest's study, leaving Varley alone. Varley turned to look after him, stared, and shrugged his shoulders. "The manners of the West," he said good-humouredly, and turned again to the hallway, from whence came the sound of the priest's voice.
When all was told, he turned his horse towards the wide waste of the prairie, and galloped away. Finden watched him till he was lost to view beyond the bluff. "Now, a man like that, you can't guess what he'll do," he said reflectively. "He's a high-stepper, and there's no telling what foolishness will get hold of him. It'd be safer if he got lost on the prairie for twenty-four hours.
"M'sieu' Varley?" the priest responded, and watched a galloping horseman to whom Finden had pointed, till he rounded the corner of a little wood. "Varley, the great London surgeon, sure! Say, father, it's a hundred to one she'd take him, if " There was a curious look in Father Bourassa's face, a cloud in his eyes. He sighed. "London, it is ver' far away," he remarked obliquely. "What's to that?
The priest laughed noiselessly, showing white teeth. "Was it so selfish in Madame to refuse the name of Finden n'est-ce pas?" Finden flushed, then burst into a laugh. "I'd almost forgotten I was one of them the first almost. Blessed be he that expects nothing, for he'll get it, sure. It was my duty, and I did it. Was she to feel that Jansen did not price her high?
"Die Menchen suchen und suchen, wollen immer was Besseres finden.... Gott geb' ihnen nur Geduld!" Men in the Gold Nugget were talking about some claims, staked and recorded in due form, but on which the statutory work had not been done. "What about 'em?" "They're jumpable at midnight." French Charlie invited the Boy to go along, but neither he nor the Colonel felt enthusiastic.
Her eyes scarcely saw him, as she left the room and passed to where Meydon lay nerveless, but with wide-open eyes, waiting for her. The eyes closed, however, before she reached the bed. Presently they opened again, but the lids remained fixed. He did not hear what she said. In the little waiting-room, Finden said to Varley, "What happened?"
"'Tis the light heart she has, and slippin' in and out of things like a hummin'-bird, no easier to ketch and no longer to stay," said Finden, the rich Irish landbroker, suggestively to Father Bourassa, the huge French-Canadian priest who had worked with her through all the dark weeks of the smallpox epidemic, and who knew what lay beneath the outer gayety.
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