Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 28, 2025
He swayed across the room and back again, the first time he had been on his feet since the half-breed's bullet had laid him out. He would fool Cardigan. He would fool Kedsty. As he recovered his strength, he would keep it to himself. He would play sick man to the limit, and then some night he would take advantage of the open window!
"All this time I have been keeping away from the Police." McTrigger drew a deep breath. Again his hands gripped Kent's, and his voice was incredulous, filled with a great wonder. "And you have come to her, to her old home, believing that Marette killed Kedsty! It is hard to believe.
"If Mooie should be badly hurt should die, for instance and it was discovered that you and I " He knew he had gone far enough to give effect to his words. He did not even look at Mercer. "Watch him closely, old man, and report to me everything that happens. Find out more about Kedsty, if you can. I shall advise you how to act. It is rather ticklish, you know for you!
What he saw was the flush of a great happiness, the almost childish confession of it along with the woman's joy of possession. And he thought of Kedsty, and of the Law that was rousing itself into life back at Athabasca Landing.
Marette did not start, but an answering cry came into her throat as she turned her eyes from Kedsty to him. To Kent it was like looking upon the dead in two ways. Marette Radisson, living and breathing, was whiter than Kedsty, who was white with the unbreathing pallor of the actually dead. She did not speak. She made no sound after that answering cry in her throat. She simply looked.
Something mighty queer has come over Kedsty since this morning. He isn't the Kedsty you knew yesterday or for the last ten years. He's nervous, and I miss my guess if he isn't constantly on the watch for some one. And he's afraid of me. I know it. He's afraid of me because I saw him go to pieces when he met that girl. Fort Simpson is simply a frame-up to get me away for a time.
"Nor I," said Kent, the blood stirring strangely in his veins. "Mercer, it simply means there was some one cleverer than old Mooie watching that trail." With a curiously tense face Mercer was looking cautiously toward the door. Then he leaned still lower over Kent. "During his mumblings, when I was alone with him, I heard him speak a name, sir. Half a dozen times, sir and it was Kedsty!"
One of them was John Barkley, the rich timber man, and the other was Kedsty, Inspector of Police at Athabasca Landing." Kent made no effort to speak. His amazement, as McTrigger had gone on, was beyond the expression of words.
"He would die first! And he will not suspect that I have brought you to my room, that an escaped murderer is hiding under the very roof of the Inspector of Police! They will search for you everywhere but here! Isn't it splendid? He planned it all, every move, even to the screaming in front of your cell " "You mean Kedsty?"
As Kent placed it on the table, his eyes caught suddenly a gleam of steel under the edge of a newspaper, and he drew out from their hiding-place the long-bladed clipping scissors which Kedsty had used in the preparation of his scrap-books and official reports. It was the last link in the deadly evidence the automatic with its telltale stain, the scissors, the tress of hair, and Marette Radisson.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking