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Updated: June 6, 2025
Letting the door swing to, he moved hastily forward, and then stopped, seeing that he was too late to prevent the meeting. Jernyngham had recognized the newcomer. "Mr. Prescott," the old man cried, "a word with you!" Prescott stopped with a troubled face a few yards away. "If you insist, I'm at your service." Colston drew nearer.
"Prescott's been here," replied Curtis. "He's heard those blamed clothes were found, and that's going to make us trouble. We've had Jernyngham interfering and mussing up the tracks, and now Prescott's getting ready to butt in. I expect he'll be off to Navarino very soon, and we can't stop him unless we arrest him, which I'm not ready to do." "Did he tell you he was going?"
"Where are you off to, Jernyngham?" he asked, glancing at the rolled up blanket. "Looks as if you meant to camp on the trail." "I'll have to, most likely," said Jernyngham. "I'm leaving the farm to Prescott for a while and heading for Nelson's Butte on the new road." "What are you going to do there?" "Thought I'd pick up a horse or two at one of the ranches I'll pass and apply for a teaming job.
They walked back some distance along the edge of the wheat. Then the rancher stopped and from force of habit felt for his pipe. "I must be to some extent confidential," began Jernyngham. "You must guess why I came." The strong light fell searchingly on his face, revealing lines on it which Prescott thought had lately been deepened by pain, but his eyes were very keen and hard.
He meant to stay here, refusing to benefit by the change in his affairs, out of consideration for his relatives." "And you approve his passing off this western farmer for a Jernyngham?" Mrs. Colston asked. "Oh, that!" Muriel's laugh was scornful. "You were satisfied with the man until you knew his name was Prescott. How was it that you didn't miss the inherent superiority of the Jernynghams?
Colston raised his hand to check him. Jernyngham could not be allowed to explain his action, as he seemed bent on doing. "No! no!" he said soothingly, "you mustn't think of it! Please let me speak." He addressed the officer. "You can see the nervous state Mr. Jernyngham is in very natural, of course, but I think it should appeal to your consideration." The officer reflected.
Jernyngham seemed to be struggling with some stirring of his deeper nature beneath the crust of mannerisms. "Mr. Prescott," he said, "I may tell you that I now fear I treated the lad injudiciously, and perhaps with needless harshness. I looked upon extravagance and eccentricity as signs of depravity.
Everything had happened with startling suddenness, and the scene under the veranda was an impressive one. His wife clutched one of the pillars as if unnerved. Gertrude leaned against the sidewalk rail, her face tense with horror, and Jernyngham stood with a slackness of carriage which suggested that power of thought and physical force had suddenly left him.
But you can't think that Jernyngham had a hand in it?" "Oh, no! The man is trying to ruin me, but that kind of meanness isn't in his line. Perhaps I'd better say that I never had clothes like those and that I sold no land of Cyril's." "Mr. Prescott," Muriel murmured shyly, "it isn't necessary to tell me this; I never doubted it."
Jernyngham's face was deeply colored and the swollen veins showed on his forehead. "Understand that I insist on Prescott's arrest! I will, spare no effort to secure it through your superiors!" Seeing that he was in no mood to listen to reason, the officer let him go, and Jernyngham walked slowly to the lobby downstairs.
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