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If they believed this was his object, it might save him trouble, for he meant to ride north in search of Jernyngham after calling at the farm. Checking his horse, he rode on without haste until it became obvious that the man behind was drawing up, then he set off at a gallop.
She could not tell exactly what she expected from him, but she had at least looked for some expression of a wish that their acquaintance should not end abruptly on the morrow. She did not think she would have resented a carefully modified display of the gallantry Cyril Jernyngham must be capable of, if reports were true.
Prescott's expression grew as stern as the old man's and he looked about with pride. "I tell you it must stop! What right have you to fling these infamous hints at me?" Jernyngham broke into a harsh laugh. "The part of an innocent man is too much for you to play; we won't force you into it.
Spoke to him on the trail last night. He was hauling in a load to the settlement, and I was driving home half an hour after Mr. Colston." "There's only one trail," said Jernyngham, looking hard at Colston. "You must have met the fellow. Why didn't you tell me?" Colston showed confusion. "To tell the truth, I was afraid the news might distress and excite you.
I want to save you that." "Father," Gertrude broke in softly, "though it's hard to say, I know that Cyril's right." Jernyngham got up wearily. "There is nothing more that I can urge. You must do as you think best, my son, but while I shall never quite grasp your point of view, you will always be in our thoughts." They were glad to separate, for the interview had been trying to them all.
"The horrible mystery will be cleared up on Prescott's arrest," Gertrude said in a harsh voice. "I think that can't be long deferred." She left him troubled by her expression, and he and the others spent a dreary afternoon and evening. It was late when Jernyngham returned, looking worn but very stern.
The apartment had no floor covering and was cheerless and dirty; there was not even a table in it; and only a railroad time-table and advertisements of land sales hung on its rough pine walls. Jernyngham, however, looked in keeping with his surroundings. The dirty bandage still covered his forehead, his clothes were stained and untidy, and he had an unkempt, dissipated air.
His expression grew eager and Gertrude, knowing that she had said enough, left him quietly. A piercing wind swept the lonely waste when Jernyngham left the homestead in the afternoon. He went on foot, because it was no great distance to the Prescott farm, and he had no wish to attract notice by driving up in the sleigh.
"She shows a rancor against the man which even the disappearance of her brother doesn't account for." The same idea had occurred to Mrs. Colston, but it was a side issue and she was not to be drawn away from the point. "You stick to the word disappearance," she said. "Yes," Muriel answered steadily. "Cyril Jernyngham isn't dead!" "You have only Prescott's word for that."
We'll pull out for the homestead to-morrow. I expect Wandle is robbing me." "He's been robbin' you ever since you bought the ranch. I don't know why you stopped me from gettin' after him." "He saves me trouble," explained Jernyngham, and they discussed the arrangements for their return.
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