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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Perhaps it's hardly to his credit. His father is an old man who had expected great things of him. If he had come home, he would have been forgiven and reinstated." "Yes," said Colston, "though Jernyngham seldom shows his feelings, I know he has grieved over his son. There can be no question that Cyril should have returned; I've told him so in my letters."
"Pretty significant. What are you going to do about it?" he asked. "I'll have to apply for a warrant." "You certainly will." "Well," Curtis went on, "this thing isn't quite so simple as it seems. To begin with, it's my idea that Miss Jernyngham hasn't told us all she knows; you want to remember that Prescott's a good-looking fellow with a taking manner.
Considering what his past was supposed to have been, the grave man who watched her with troubled eyes was hard to understand. "Cyril," she asked, "has Harry given you our address at Glacier and Banff?" He supposed that this implied permission to write to her, but he could not do so as Jack Prescott and he already bitterly regretted that he had allowed her to think of him as Jernyngham.
For a few minutes there was a deep silence, intensified by the musical clash of cowbells in the distance, and then a measured, drumming sound rose softly from behind the trees. "Guess that's your friends," Leslie said to Jernyngham. "Jim's made pretty good time." The beat of hoofs grew nearer until the listeners could hear the rattle of wheels.
Leslie's team and a smart sleigh, which Jernyngham had had sent out from Toronto, stood at the door, and after he had helped his wife and Muriel in, Colston took the reins. When they had jolted across the track, the snow was beaten smooth along the trail; the team was fresh after resting, and it was a brilliant night.
Prescott did not answer, and Jernyngham resumed in a more urgent tone: "I must beg you not to make difficulties; I'm told there is nobody else in the neighborhood who could take us in. We will require very little attention and will promise to give you no trouble." Prescott wavered.
But there are more important points to consider." "That is very true," said Mrs. Colston. "Will you tell Jernyngham that we have seen Prescott, Harry?" Colston hesitated. "No; I don't think so. I'm afraid of the effect it may have on him; and he won't be up when we get in. All the same, he's bound to hear the news from somebody else very soon."
"It is possible that the police were wrong about Cyril," she said at length. "I'm afraid not," said Jernyngham. "It might be urged that Prescott has come back; but I believe that was only to sell his wheat." He broke into a harsh laugh. "One must admit that the fellow has courage; but he won't find it easy to escape again. Every move of his will be watched."
"You're not quite so important to us now; and I'm not running much risk, anyway, considering the horse you've got." It was noon on the day after Wandle's flight, and Jernyngham was sitting with his friends in a room of the Leslie homestead when Muriel, looking out of the window, saw Prescott's hired man ride up at a gallop.
"Did you see your man, Svendsen, or his wife when you got home?" "I didn't; they live at the back of the house. I put up the horses, slipped in quietly, and went to bed." "Then you can't fix the time you got back?" Prescott moved sharply, lifting his head, while an angry color suffused his face. "Curtis, you can't think Jernyngham was my best friend!" Then he laughed indignantly.
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