to sell his property where it would excite less
notice than at Sebastian. Then I suppose he found it needful to see his
confederate."

"They could have gone off together in the first instance," Colston
objected.

Jernyngham made an impatient gesture.

"I was merely suggesting an explanation; the point is not important. The
fellow has bolted; but I've reason for believing he won't get across the
boundary!"

He broke off, tearing the newspaper as he opened it, and there was an
awkward silence until Mrs. Leslie brought in dinner. Jernyngham ate very
little, and after spending a few minutes in his room, he drove off in the
sleigh. Somewhat later, Colston met Gertrude in a passage and stopped
her. He thought she looked anxious.

"I'm sorry I couldn't calm your father, but I was afraid that anything I
might say would only make him more excited," he told her. "I meant to go
with him, but he wouldn't permit it."

"No," she said, "there was nothing that you could do; but I'm badly
disturbed." She paused irresolutely, and then resumed: "He has taken a
magazine pistol, though I believe it's the first time he has carried it."

Colston looked grave. He determined, if possible, to abstract the pistol
and hide it on Jernyngham's return.

"I'm very sorry. It must be trying for you. Indeed, I wonder anxiously
where all this is leading us."

"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.

"From what I've learned, word has been sent to every police trooper
between here and the frontier," he said, and broke into a grim smile.
"Prescott's chance of escape is a very poor one."

He made a scanty meal, without seeming to notice what he ate, and
afterward sat silent. The others seldom spoke and when a word was
exchanged there was strain in their voices. The snapping of the poplar
billets in the stove seemed to emphasize the quiet and jarred on their
nerves, while Muriel, tormented by fears on Prescott's account, found the
suspense and constraint almost intolerable. She was thankful when bedtime
came, though she could not sleep. Her troubled thoughts were with her
lover, and she wondered what perils he was exposed to on the snowy wilds.

As it happened, Prescott was riding stea