"Certainly not," Foster agreed. "If I'm delayed, or can't get hold of Daly as soon as I thought, I'll bring them back. However, I've kept you from your business and must get off."

Graham did not move, and the letters were out of Foster's reach.

"You have got your instructions from Gascoyne and know what to do if you have any trouble on your journey?"

Foster felt embarra.s.sed. He did not know if Gascoyne was the man he had gone to in Edinburgh, and durst not risk a fresh mistake. Besides, it was possible that there was not such a person among the other's friends and the question was a trap.

"No," he said boldly. "I can get all the instructions that are needful when I meet Daly. Give me the letters."

"I think not. It would be better to wait until we hear what Gascoyne has to say, since you haven't seen him as I thought. He may have something to send with the other doc.u.ments. Suppose you come back about this time to-morrow."

Foster feared he was found out, and imagined that if he agreed, he would find the office closed and Graham gone; unless perhaps the fellow waited for him with one or two of his accomplices. Foster was certain he had accomplices. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he carried Alice Featherstone's glove and meant to get the letters.

"No," he said. "I'm willing to do you a favor, particularly as I want something to show my friends in Canada that I brought the packet safe.

But I'm not going to put myself to much inconvenience. You have written the letters. Let me have them; I must catch my train."

He put his hand on the Browning pistol and was glad to feel it there, though he hardly thought he would be forced to draw it. He was physically stronger than Graham, but it had come to a trial of nerve and he knew he had a cunning antagonist. Besides, he could not tell how much longer they would be left alone and he might be in serious danger if somebody else came in. Still, he must not look anxious and quietly fixed his eyes on Graham's face.

"I can't take the risk," the latter declared. "Will you wait until I see if I can get Gascoyne on the telephone?"

The telephone was in the other office and Foster durst not let the man out of his sight.

"I've been here long enough and have just time to get to the station."

There was silence for a few moments and Foster felt his heart beat. He meant to finish the interview as it had begun, without doing anything unusual, but if this was impossible, he had another plan. His muscles were stiffened ready for a spring; he would pin the fellow to his desk while he seized the letters. Though he meant to look calm, his face got very grim; but Graham carelessly pushed the letters towards him.

"Very well! You will take the responsibility if there's any trouble."

"I will," said Foster, as coolly as he could, and picked up the envelopes. "Sorry if I've detained you. Good afternoon."

He was half afraid to turn his back to the other, but there was no avoiding this and he heard no suspicious movement until he reached the door. Then, as he expected, the telephone bell rang, and Foster, running down the steps, drew a breath of relief when he reached the street. It was now dark, but he felt comforted as he saw Pete's tall figure in the gloom.

"Look behind you now and then and tell me if anybody follows us," he said, and knowing that Pete's eyes could be trusted, carefully reviewed the situation when they turned into a busy street.

It was obvious that the conclusions he had come to by the peat-stack were correct, and the police, who were obviously watching him, thought he might know something about the Hulton tragedy. If so, his movements had not been calculated to allay their suspicions. He had now papers that were probably dangerous in his pocket, and it he were caught before he got rid of them, it would be difficult to prove his innocence. The safe line would be to make for the nearest police station and give up the doc.u.ments. So long as he kept them, he had as much to fear from the police as from Daly's gang. But he did not mean to give them up just yet.

His duty to the State was plain, but he was frankly determined to save his comrade first, and imagined that he could do so, although the thing would be difficult. For all that, Daly must be forced to keep Lawrence's secret. Then he had, to some extent, discredited Daly with his accomplice by informing Graham that he was engaged upon some profitable private business. It looked as if Graham did not know what the fellow's object was; after all, the gang might not trust each other very far. The trouble was that Daly might not be easily found, and in the meantime Foster had two dangers to guard against; but he meant to be careful, and to tell the police all he knew as soon as he had dealt with Daly.

Nothing indicated that they were followed on their way to the Central Station, where Foster left Pete outside and ascertained that a train would shortly start for Carlisle. He would have liked to travel by it, since he expected to find Daly near the western Border. Besides, it was prudent to leave Newcastle as soon as he could, since his injured hand made him easily distinguishable and Graham had run to the telephone. The latter would not have let him take the papers without a struggle had he not some plan of getting them back. Foster did not know how many accomplices Graham had, but imagined he had to deal with a well-organized gang, who would find it much easier to watch the railway than the lonely moors between it and the Cheviots. Making his way through a crowd on a busy platform, he left the station by another door, where he met Pete, whom he had sent round. It was possible that these precautions were needless, but he did not mean to take any risk he could avoid.

"Where will ye be for the noo?" Pete asked.

"The head of Liddesdale, to begin with. But I don't know yet if we'll go west by the old military road, or across the moors. It will depend upon whether the fellow I went to see gets upon my track."

Pete's eyes twinkled. "It will be a clever man who tracks us when we tak' the heather. But have ye the papers ye went tae steal?"

"I have. If they're what I think and I can keep them safe until I use them, they're worth twenty pounds to you."

"Aweel," said Pete, "I'll feel mair sure o' the money when we win oot o' the toon. It's ower full o' polls, and my talents are no' o' much use here."

They had left the station and reaching a street where Foster made some inquiries, waited in the door of an office building until a tram-car came up. Getting in, they were carried through the wet and smoky streets towards the city's western outskirts.

XVII

THE LETTERS

The sky had cleared when Foster left the car at the end of the line and headed towards open country. On the whole, he thought he was fortunate to get out of Newcastle safe, because there were grounds for believing that Graham had found out the trick. If this were so, he would certainly try to recover the doc.u.ments. On the surface, it seemed strange that the fellow had let him take them away; but, when one came to think of it, as soon as he had written and sealed the letters he was helpless.

In order to keep them, he would have had to overpower Foster, for which he had not the physical strength, while any noise they made in the struggle might have brought in help. Then supposing that Graham had by some chance mastered him, he would not have gained much, because Foster would have gone to the police when he got away. It was, of course, absurd to think that Graham might have killed him, since this would have led to his arrest. He had accordingly given up the letters, but Foster felt he was not safe yet. He might be attacked in some cunning way that would prevent his a.s.sailants being traced. It depended upon whether the doc.u.ments were worth the risk, and he would know this soon.

In the meantime he was entering a belt of ugly industrial country. Now and then the reflected glare of a furnace quivered in the sky; tall chimney-stacks and mounds of refuse showed faintly in the dark, and he pa.s.sed cl.u.s.ters of fiercely burning lights and dull red fires. He supposed they marked pithead banks and c.o.ke-ovens; but pushed on steadily towards the west. He wanted to put some distance between himself and Newcastle before he stopped.

After a time a row of lights twinkled ahead and, getting nearer, he saw chimneys, dark skeleton towers of timber, and jets of steam behind the houses. It was a colliery village, and when he pa.s.sed the first lamps he vacantly noticed the ugliness of the place. The small, grimy houses were packed as close as they could be got, the pavement was covered with black mud, and the air filled with acrid smoke. Presently, however, he came to a pretentious hotel, built of glaring red brick and ornamented with sooty paint. He wondered what accounted for its being planted there; but it offered shelter for the night and he went in.

He admitted that he had slept in worse places than the room he was shown, although it looked far from comfortable, but the supper he got was good, and he afterwards entered a small room behind the bar. There was a bright fire, near which he sat down when Pete went away. The strain he had borne had brought its reaction; he felt tired and slack.

There was another room across the pa.s.sage, and he smelt rank tobacco and heard voices speaking a harsh dialect and the tramp of heavy boots on boards. The door was open and men with curiously pale faces that did not look clean pa.s.sed now and then. Foster thought they were colliers and he had nothing to fear from them.

He had two or three companions, who sat round a small table and seemed by their talk to belong to a football committee. The landlord treated them with some deference, as if they were important people, but Foster wished they would go. He wanted to examine the letters, but thought it safer to wait until he was alone, since inquiries might afterwards be made about him. At length the footballers went way, and shutting the door, he turned his chair so that he could see anybody who came in, without looking round. It was satisfactory to note that the table would be between him and a new-comer.

Before opening the letters, he tried to recollect what had happened in Graham's office. The fellow sat in front of a desk with a row of pigeon-holes and sides that prevented Foster's noting exactly what he did after he began to write. In consequence, Foster could not tell if he had put anything except the letters in the envelopes, although he had taken some papers from the safe. It looked as if Graham had not meant him to see and had not trusted him altogether from the beginning.

Now he probably knew he was an impostor, although this was not quite certain. Foster took out the envelopes, and broke the seal of the first, which was addressed to Daly, without hesitation.

It contained a tourist agency's circular cheque for a moderate sum, payable by coupons at any of the company's offices in England and Canada, and Foster saw the advantage of this, because, as the offices were numerous, one could not tell where the coupons would be cashed.

Then he found a letter, which he thought bore out his conclusions, although, on the surface, it did not tell him much. It stated that Jackson's business had been satisfactorily transacted in Berlin, but the Hamburg matter had not been arranged yet. Lascelles had had some difficulties in Paris, but expected to negotiate a sale.

Foster carefully folded the papers and replaced them in his pocket.

The names were probably false, but they stood for agents of the gang, whose business was, no doubt, the sale of the stolen bonds. He remembered Percival, the treasurer's, statement that the securities might be disposed of on a Continental bourse, and Hulton's reluctance to advertise their loss. Well, he now had proof that Daly was, at least, a party to the theft, and ground for believing him to be open to a more serious charge. The fellow was in his power.

He, however, hesitated a moment before opening the letter to Carmen.

He was half-afraid of finding her to some extent implicated in the plot; and it was with relief he saw nothing but another envelope inside the first, which he threw into the fire. The enclosed envelope was addressed to a man he did not know, and he thought Carmen's part would be confined to giving it to her father, or somebody else, who would pa.s.s it on. Tearing it open, he found a cheque on an American bank for a thousand dollars, but the payee's name was different from that on the cover. Foster put it away and lighted his pipe.

Some of the bonds had obviously been sold and there were a number of men in the plot, though it was possible that they did not know all about the Hulton tragedy. Foster understood that one could dispose of stolen securities through people who would undertake the dangerous business without asking awkward questions, if the profit were high enough. Still he thought Graham knew, and this would give him an incentive stronger than his wish to save the money for trying to get the letters back. Indeed, Foster imagined that he was now in serious danger. Graham's run to the telephone had alarmed him.

n.o.body came in and by degrees the room across the pa.s.sage got quiet as its occupants went away. It was some relief that the noise had stopped, but Foster liked to feel that there were people about. He was tired and began to get drowsy as he lounged in front of the fire, but roused himself with an effort, knowing he ought to keep awake. For all that, he did not hear the door open, and got up with a start as a man came in. Then his alarm vanished for Pete stood looking at him with a sympathetic twinkle.

"I ken what ye feel," the latter remarked. "It's like meeting a keeper when ye hae a hare in the lining o' yere coat."

"Yes," said Foster, "I expect its something like that. But where have you been?"

"Roon' the toon, though it's no' verra big or bonnie. Then I stopped a bit in the bar o' the ither hotel. Sixpence goes some way, if ye stick to beer."

"I hope you didn't say much if there were strangers about."

Pete grinned. "I said a' I could; aboot the sheep and bullocks we were going to look at up Bellingham way; but, if it's only comfort, there's no strangers in the place but a commaircial who deals with the grossers and anither who got a good order from the colliery. Maybe that's worth the money for the beer!"

"It certainly is," Foster agreed. "We'll have a reckoning at the end of the journey, but here's your sixpence." Then he looked at his watch. "Well, I think it's late enough to go to bed, and you can order breakfast. We had better get off as soon as it's light."