Chapter 27

The news of Count Courteau's death traveled fast. 'Poleon Doret was not long in hearing of it, and of course he went at once in search of Rouletta. By the time he found her the girl's momentary panic had been succeeded by a quite unnatural self-possession; her perturbation had changed to an intense but governable agitation, and her mind was working with a clarity and a rapidity more than normal. This power of rising to an emergency she had doubtless inherited from her father. "One-armed" Kirby had been a man of resource, and, so long as he remained sober, he had never lost his head. Swiftly the girl told of the instant suspicion that had attached to Phillips and of his prompt apprehension.

"Who done dat shootin' if he don't?" Doret inquired, quickly.

"Joe McCaskey--or Frank," Rouletta answered with positiveness. 'Poleon started. Through the gloom he stared incredulously at the speaker.

"I'm sure of it, now that I've had time to think," the girl declared. "That's why I ran for you. Now listen! I promised not to tell this, but--I must. Courteau confessed to his wife that he and the McCaskeys trumped up that charge against Pierce. They paid Courteau well for his part--or they promised to--and he perjured himself, as did they. Hilda got the truth out of him while he was drunk. Of course he denied it later, but she broke him down, and this evening, just before we got home, he promised to go to Colonel Cavendish and make a clean breast of everything. He went out for that purpose, but--evidently he lacked courage to go through with it. Otherwise how did he come to be on the back streets? The McCaskeys live somewhere back yonder, don't they?"

"Sure!" 'Poleon meditated, briefly. "Mebbe so you're right," he said, finally.

"I know I'm right," Rouletta cried. "The first thing to do is find them. Where are they?"

"I don' see 'em no place."

"Then we must tell the colonel to look them up."

But Doret's brows remained puckered in thought. "Wait!" he exclaimed. "I got idea of my own. If dem feller kill Courteau dey ain't nowheres roun' here. Dey beat it, firs' t'ing."

"To Hunker? Perhaps--"

"No. For de Boun'ry." 'Poleon slapped his thigh in sudden enlightenment. "By golly! Dat's why I don' see 'em no place. You stay here. I mak' sure."

He turned and strode away, but Rouletta followed at his heels.

"I'm going, too," she stoutly asserted. "Don't argue. I'll bet ten to one we find their cabin empty."

Together they made their way rapidly out of the brightly illuminated portion of the town and into the maze of blank warehouses and snow-banked cabins which lay behind. At this hour of the night few lamps were burning even in private residences, and,