CHAPTER II.
THE HOTEL IN BONAVENTURE STREET.
It was nine o'clock on a Monday evening in the fourth week of June, andI was sitting, as was my nightly custom, in the cozy coffee room of themodest hostelry where I had taken lodgings when I first came to Quebec.This was the Hotel Silver Lily, kept by Monsieur Jules Ragoul andmadame, his wife. It was a quiet little place in Bonaventure Street,which was one of the oldest and narrowest thoroughfares of the lowertown.
I was alone in the room, save for an elderly man who was sound asleep ina big chair on the far side of the table, remote from the candlelight.He had been there when I entered, and I could not recall having seen himbefore about the hotel; but of this I was not certain, since his facewas in shadow and half-covered by his hat. In the adjoining bar, tojudge from the clinking of glasses and bottles and the hum ofconversation, Madame Ragoul was busy with a few customers. The eveningwas warm, and as I sat by the open window sucking at my long pipe, Icould hear on the one side the occasional challenge of the sentries highup on the ramparts of the citadel. From the other direction came theboisterous voices of boatmen and sailors down by the quays of the St.Lawrence.
Two long months had passed since my arrival in Quebec. I was heartilytired of its noisy, brawling life, hungry for the solitude of my nativewilderness. At first I had found much to see and enjoy, but the noveltysoon wore off. I had but few acquaintances in the town, and none of themwere to my fancy. I preferred the seclusion of the hotel, and thecompany of the honest little Frenchman and his wife. Not so withBaptiste. He had fallen in with a loose set of his own kind, andfrequented the low taverns by the riverside. That very evening I hadbrought him home helplessly drunk, and seen him safely abed.
But before I go on, if you please, a word or two concerning the businessthat brought me to Quebec. I have spoken of Griffith Hawke, the factorof Fort Royal. He was a man of fifty-odd years, simple-hearted, absorbedin his duties, and with not a spark of romance or sentiment in hisbeing. Would you believe that such a one could think of marriage? Yet itwas even so! A wife he suddenly resolved to have, and he sent for one tothe head office in London, as was a common custom in those days. Many awoman was sent out by the company to cheer the lonely lot of theiremployees.
To be brief, a correspondence was carried on for two years between FortRoyal and London--that meant but a couple of letters on either side--andthe result of it was that I was now in Quebec to meet the bride ofGriffith Hawke and escort her to her distant home.
She was due in the early summer, being a passenger on the ship GoodHope. I was to put her in care of Madame Ragoul, and we were both tosail for Hudson's Bay at the first opportunity in one of the company'svessels. The factor had not been able to leave his post for so long atime, and he had sent me on this errand with evident reluctance. Hewould meet us at Fort York, where there was a priest to perform themarriage ceremony.
As I said before, the task was not to my liking. Love was a word withoutmeaning to me. I knew nothing of women, and had reached the age oftwenty-five without giving a thought to the other sex. I was completelyignorant of the purport of the letters that had passed between GriffithHawke and the head office, and as I never questioned him aboutparticulars, he never vouchsafed me any. I naturally expected to meet amiddle-aged dame who would make a suitable partner for the prosaicfactor, and would adapt herself to the crude life and customs of thelonely trading post.
A mission of adventure and deadly peril would have been more to mytaste, but this strange enterprise was put upon me in the capacity of acompany's servant, and I was resolved to carry out my instructions tothe best of my ability. I was pondering the matter as I sat in the hotelthat June night, and reflecting, with some relief, that I should not bemuch longer detained in Quebec, for the Good Hope was expected in portat any day or hour.
Having finished my third pipe, I knocked the ashes out gently so as notto disturb my still sleeping companion. I rose to my feet, stifling ayawn, and just then a man entered the room from the bar, closing thedoor behind him. While he stood hesitating, I took in his appearance bya brief glance. He was tall, slim and wiry, with tawny yellow hair wornlong, and thick, drooping mustache. His eyes were of a cold steel-blue,and his face, though very handsome, had something sinister and fierceabout it. From his attire I judged him at once to be a polished man ofthe world, who had seen other lands than the Canadas. He wore alace-trimmed coat of buff, breeches of the same material, top boots oftanned buckskin, and abroad felt hat of a claret color. For the rest, asword dangled at his side, and a brace of pistols peeped from his belt.He looked about fifty, and by his flushed countenance I saw that he wasmore or less under the influence of liquor.
I noticed all this even before the man drew closer. Then seeing meclearly in the light shed from the candles, he gave a sudden start. Thecolor left his cheeks, and he stared at me with an unmistakableexpression of bewildered surprise, of something like sharp fear andguilt. I never doubted that he mistook me for another person.
"Have we met before, sir?" I asked courteously.
The stranger laughed, and his agitation was gone.
"Pardon my rudeness," he replied. "I had a spasm of pain, to which I amsubject at times, but it has passed off." He pointed to my blue capotewith brass buttons--the summer uniform of the company. "You are a HudsonBay man," he added, "and I am another. That is a bond of friendshipbetween us; is it not so?"
His manner was so captivating that I forgot my first unfavorableimpression cf him; moreover, I felt flattered by the condescension of sofine a gentleman. I was easily induced to state my name and the positionI held at Fort Royal.
"We shall meet again," he cried, "for I shall be in those parts ere thesummer is over."
"Are you indeed in the company's service?" I asked. "You do not wear--"
"The uniform?" he interrupted, with a touch of hauteur. "No; my dutiesare not the same as yours. But I will be as frank as you have been--"He handed me a folded paper. "Read that," he said in a confidentialtone, leaning over me and exhaling the fumes of wine.
I opened the document, and scanned it briefly. The writing showed,beyond a doubt, that my new acquaintance was in the secret service ofthe Hudson Bay Company, and that he stood high in favor of the governorhimself. I was glad that he had revealed as much to me--a thing he wouldnot have done but for his potations; for it had dawned on me a momentbefore that I had been indiscreet to unbosom myself so freely to astranger, who, for aught I knew to the contrary, might be a spy or anagent of the Northwest Company. I handed the paper back to him, and hebuttoned it tightly under his coat.
"Is that credential enough for you?" he asked.
"I am more than satisfied," I replied.
"Then permit me to introduce myself. I am Captain Myles Rudstone, atyour service--ex-officer of Canadian Volunteers, formerly of London andParis, and now serving under the same banner as yourself. In short, I ama man of the world."
"I judged as much, sir," said I.
"Your perception does you credit," he exclaimed.
"I see that you are a gentleman. And now let us drink together tocelebrate our first meeting."
"With all my heart!" I replied cordially.
I expected that he would ring the bell for madame, but instead of thathe strode around the table to the sleeping stranger in the chair, andclapped him heavily on the shoulder. The man was roused instantly, andas he sprang to his feet I saw that he was tall and middle aged. Hisface was shrewd and intelligent, clean-shaven, and slightly wrinkled. Hewore a white neck-cloth, antiquated coat and breeches of rusty black,and gray stockings with silver buckles at the knee; a cluster of sealsdangled from his watch chain, and his fingers were long and white.
"What the devil do you mean by striking me, sir?" he demanded angrily.
"I merely gave you a tap," Captain Rudstone replied coolly. "I wish youto join this gentleman and myself in a drink."
"I have no desire to drink."
"But
I say you shall!"
"And I say I shall not. I am a man of peace, but by Heavens, sir, I willswallow no affront tamely."
"I believe you are a spy--an emissary of the Northwest Company," criedthe captain; and I knew by his manner that he had really suspected thestranger from the first.
"Then you lie, sir!" declared the man in black. "Here is my card."
He tossed a slip of pasteboard on the table, and picking it up, I readthe following:
"CHRISTOPHER BURLEY. "For Parchmont and Tolliver, Solicitors, "Lincoln's Inn, London."
I handed the card to Captain Rudstone, and he glanced at itdisdainfully.
"A law clerk," he sneered. "But come, I will overlook your menialposition. I am not too proud to clink glasses with you."
"The boot is on the other leg, sir," cried the man of law. "I pick mycompany, and I refuse to drink with a swashbuckler and a roysterer."
"You shall drink with me," roared the captain, drawing his blade, "or Iwill teach you civil manners with the point of this!"
I judged that it was time to interfere.
"Captain Rudstone, you are behaving unseemly," said I. "There is nocause for a quarrel. You will think better of it in the morning. I begyou to drop the matter. Let us retire to the next room and have ourfriendly drink."
I thought he would have run me through for my interference, so blacklydid he glare at me; but the next instant he sheathed his sword andlaughed.
"You are right," he said. "I have had a drop too much for the first timefor months. I offer my apologies to the offended law. Come, Mr. Carew, Iwill take another cup to your good health."
As he spoke he approached the door, and as I followed him the law clerkstopped me by a touch on the shoulder.
"My thanks to you, young gentleman," he said. "I like your face, and Iput no blame on you for what has occurred. A word with you, if I may. Isee that you are in the service of the Hudson Bay Company."
"Yes," I assented.
"And do you know the Canadas?"
"As well as you know London," I replied.
His face brightened at that.
"I came over a month ago on important business," he went on, "and I havebeen lately in Montreal and Ottawa. Did you ever, in the course of yourwanderings, hear of a certain Osmund Maiden? He landed in Quebec fromEngland in the year 1787."
"I never heard the name, sir," I answered, after a moment's thought.
As I spoke I looked toward the door, and encountered the gaze ofCaptain Rudstone, who was standing in a listening attitude with hishand on the latch. I scarcely knew him. His cheeks were colorless, hislips were half-parted, and a sort of frozen horror was stamped on hisfeatures. Had he been seized by another spasm of pain, I wondered, orwas there a deeper cause for his agitation?
"So you can give me no information?" said Christopher Burley, in a toneof disappointment.
"I know nothing of the man you seek," I answered.
Just then the door was flung open, and Jules Ragoul burst excitedly intothe room.
"_Bonne nouvelles!_" he cried. "News, Monsieur Carew! Good news! TheGood Hope is in the river, and she will land her passengers earlyto-morrow!"
All else was forgotten, and I eagerly questioned the little Frenchman.When I was done with him I looked about for Captain Rudstone and the lawclerk. Both had vanished, and I saw them no more that night.
The Cryptogram: A Story of Northwest Canada Page 2