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Updated: June 18, 2025
The toe of Fyles's well-polished riding-boot tapped the superheated platform. His gray eyes suddenly fixed and held the ironical eyes of the other. "See here, Huntly," he said at last, in that tone of quiet authority which never deserted him for long. "I can rely on that? There's nothing to stop her by the way now? Nothing at all?"
He pointed at the tinted envelope enclosing the telegram. While Fyles took his mail, McBain's keen eyes were at work upon the letters spread out on the counter. Fyles's silent manner induced the curious official to go a step further. "It's from headquarters Superintendent Jason," he said, covertly watching the policeman's face. But the effect was not quite as satisfactory as he hoped.
They had become very soft as she gazed over at the distant view of Charlie's house. "I don't think it will be," she said gently. Then with a quick return to her earlier manner: "You see, you will never get the chance of hurting Charlie." A moment later she inquired naively: "When is the cargo coming in?" But Fyles's exasperation was complete. "When?" he cried.
Guess I owe him a drink for finding me." At the mention of Fyles's name a curious look changed the expression of his brother's regard. A short laugh that had no mirth in it was the prompt reply. "You can't buy Fyles a drink in Rocky Springs," Charlie exclaimed. "Maybe you can buy all the drink you want. But there's not a saloonkeeper in the Northwest Territories would hand you one for Fyles.
Maybe it's a despatch." Fyles's brows drew sharply together in a frown of annoyance. "If the chief's sent me the word I'm waiting for that way he's a damn fool. I asked him for cipher mail." "Mr. Jason don't ever reckon on what those who do the work want. If that feller's riding despatch, the whole valley will know it." McBain's disgust was no less than that of Fyles.
In Fyles's case he possessed the added interest of a possible giver of information. As he gently urged his horse to lengthen its stride, his keen eyes took in the details of the man's figure, and the points of the horse he was riding. The man was of unusual stature, so unusual, in fact, that his horse, although a big raking creature, became dwarfed under him.
I've broke 'em myself rather than see the fool things caught." Kate's eyes were turned on the great bulk of Charlie's brother. Even Helen looked up with bright admiration for her lover. Fyles's gaze was leveled directly into the innocent looking blue eyes laughing into his. "Yes, I dare say you and other folks have broken those things up, often but the spiders thrive and multiply.
But the agony of mind I suffer is no less. I cannot help it, Kate. The knowledge and sight of things drives me nearly crazy, and I suffer the tortures of hell. But even so, if your happiness lies at Fyles's side, then I would have it so. If I were sure sure that this happiness were awaiting you. Is it, Kate? Think. Think of it in every aspect. Is it? Happiness with this Fyles?"
Stanley Fyles's reputation in these wild regions was decidedly unique. Scarcely a day passed but what some strenuous emergency arose demanding quick thought and quicker action, where life, frequently his own, hung in the balance. Yet the most strenuous of them found him always easy, always deliberate, and, as his subordinates loved to declare, he always managed to "beat the game by a second."
"I've learned definitely that on Monday next, that's nearly a week to-day, there's a cargo coming in along the river trail, from the east. The gang will set out to meet it at midnight, and will bring it into the village about two o'clock in the morning. How, I can't say." Fyles's desperate eyes seemed literally to bore their way through her. "That's the truth?" "True as death."
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