Carmen's Messenger

by Harold Bindloss

  VII

  THE PACKET

  When he had been a few days at the Garth, Foster thought he had bettertake Carmen's packet to Edinburgh. She had said nothing about itsbeing urgent and he did not want to go, but he must keep his promiseand would afterwards be at liberty. Mrs. Featherstone had given him tounderstand that he was to make the Garth his headquarters as long as hestayed in England, and he looked forward to doing so with much content.The more he saw of his hosts, the better he liked them, and it was aprivilege to enjoy Alice Featherstone's friendship. She had, ofcourse, given it him for her brother's sake, but he must try to keep iton his merits.

  Since he had seen Alice he began to understand Carmen better. Carmenhad charm and knew how to use it to her advantage, while he could notimagine Alice's employing her beauty to gain an object. She was proud,with an essentially clean pride, and sincere, while Carmen had a talentfor intrigue. The latter enjoyed using her cleverness to put down arival or secure a prominent place; she was a hustler, as they said inthe West. Alice, he thought, would not even claim what was hers; itmust be willingly offered or she would let it go. Yet he knew shewould be a staunch and generous friend to anybody who gained herconfidence.

  This kind of comparison, however, was profitless and perhaps in badtaste. After all, he was a friend of Carmen's and must do her errand.He left the Garth next morning, and Featherstone, who made him promiseto come back as soon as possible, drove him across the moors to a smallstation on the North British line, where he caught an Edinburgh train.

  When they ran out of the hills at Hawick, rain was falling and thevalley filled with smoky haze, through which loomed factories andchimney stacks. The station was crowded, and Foster gathered from thetalk of the people who got in that a big wool sale was going on and thetownsfolk who were not at the auction made it a holiday. Hiscompartment was full, but looking through the window he saw afashionably dressed girl hurrying along the platform with a porter.They tried one or two carriages, in which there seemed to be no room,and the guard had blown his whistle when they came abreast of Foster'scompartment. Opening the door as the train began to move, he held outhis hand and pulled the girl in.

  "My bag; it mustn't be left!" she cried, trying to get back to thedoor, but Foster caught the bag as the porter held it up and put it onthe rack.

  "There's a seat in the corner," he said and went into the corridor.

  When they stopped at Galashiels a number of people got out, and hereturned to the compartment. It was now unoccupied except by an oldman and the girl he had helped, who gave him a grateful smile.

  "I hadn't time to thank you, but I should have missed the train if youhad not been prompt," she said.

  Foster did not know if Scottish etiquette warranted anything more thana conventional reply, but he ventured to remark: "You certainly seemedto have cut things rather fine."

  "I had to drive some distance and the hill roads were bad; then when wegot to the town the streets were crowded."

  "That would be sae," the old man agreed. "Hawick's gey thrang at thewool sales when the yarn trade is guid."

  Foster liked to talk to strangers and as the girl had not rebuffed him,he took her cloak, which looked very wet, from the rack.

  "Perhaps I'd better shake this in the corridor and then we can hang itup," he said.

  She allowed him to do so and the old man remarked:

  "Guid gear's worth the saving, and I was thinking it would be nane thewaur o' a bit shake, but if ye had leeved to my age among the mosses,ye'd no' find yereself sae soople."

  "Any kind of gear's worth taking care of."

  "That's true," agreed the other. "A verra praise-worthy sentiment, ifye practice it. But I wouldna' say ye were a Scot."

  "In a sense, I'm a Canadian, but from what I've seen of the OntarioScots the difference isn't very marked. Anyhow, they don't buy newmaterial until the old's worn out."

  The man chuckled, but Foster thought the girl looked interested.

  "Then you come from Canada," she said. "Do you know any of the Ontariocities?"

  "I have been in Toronto, but I know the small towns near the Manitobaborder best. In fact, I left an ambitious place called Gardner'sCrossing about fourteen days ago."

  From the quick glance she gave him he imagined that she had heard ofthe town, but she said, "I have some friends in Ontario and understandthat they have had what they call a set-back there. Did this extend tothe neighborhood you came from?"

  Foster told her something about the development of the lumber trade andmining, but although he had hardly expected her to be interested hethought she was, and the old man's shrewd remarks helped theconversation along.

  "Isn't the Crossing where the big factory is? I forget the name ofit," she asked by and by.

  "Hulton's," said Foster, and afterwards thought she tactfullyencouraged him to talk about the manufacturing firm, although he didnot mention Fred Hulton's death. Her manner, however, was quitecorrect; he had been of some small help, which warranted her conversingwith him to pass the time. That was all, and when their companion gotout and she opened a book he went to the smoking-compartment.

  When he left the train at the Waverley station he saw her on theplatform and she gave him a slight bow, but he understood that theiracquaintance ended there and was content. After lunch he walked along,Princes Street and back to the castle. The sky was clear, the sunshone on the old tall houses, and a nipping north-easter blew acrossthe Forth. In spite of its age and modern industry, the town lookedstrangely clean and cold. No smoke could hang about it in the nippingwind; its prevailing color was granite-gray. The Forth was a streak ofraw indigo, and the hills all round were steely blue. Edinburgh waslike no English town; it had an austere half-classical beauty that waspeculiar to itself; perhaps Quebec, though different, resembled it mostof all the cities he had seen.

  Then he remembered Carmen's packet, and after asking a passer-by took atram-car that carried him through the southern quarter of the town intoa wide road, lined by well-built stone houses. Standing in small, neatgardens, they ran back to the open country, with a bold ridge of moorsin the distance. Foster got down where he was directed and crossed theroad to one of the houses. They were all much alike and he thoughthinted at the character of their occupants. One would expect to findthe people who lived there prosperous citizens with sober, conventionalhabits.

  He went up a short, tiled path and rang the bell. A smart maid-servantshowed him into a small, morning-room, where everything was very neat,and after a few moments a man came in. He was the kind of man Fosterhad expected to find in such a house, well-dressed, with polite butrather formal manners, and Foster briefly stated his business. Hethought the man looked at him sharply, but it was about four o'clock inthe afternoon and the light was not good.

  "Mr. Graham does not live here now; he left a week or two ago," hesaid. "Do you know him personally?"

  "No," said Foster. "Miss Austin asked me to give him the packet."

  "Then you know Mr. Austin."

  "In a way," said Foster, smiling. "We speak when we meet on thestreet, but don't get much further. In fact, Austin's a business rivalof mine."

  The man seemed to ponder for a moment or two. Then he said, "I gatherthat you want to deliver the packet, not to post it?"

  "That's so. I don't know if it matters much, but I'd like to put it inGraham's hands."

  "Very well. He's gone to Newcastle, but I have his address somewhere.If you will wait a minute or two, I'll look."

  He took the packet, as if he meant to write the address on it, andFoster sat down. The door of the room was half open and while hewaited somebody entered the house. Steps came along the hall, and agirl pushed the door back, and then stopped, looking at him insurprise. He understood this as he saw she was the girl he had helpedinto the train.

  "I didn't know you were coming here," she said.

  "Nor did I, in a sense," Foster answered with a smile. "I mean Ididn't know it was yo
ur house."

  "My name was on the label of the bag and rather conspicuous."

  "It would have meant nothing if I had seen it. In fact, I must own Idon't know it now."

  The girl looked puzzled, and Foster explained that he had come with apacket, but had merely been given Graham's name and the number of thehouse. He added that he had found he must look for the man inNewcastle.

  "Then you are a friend of Mr. Austin's?" she said.

  Foster thought it strange that she had not told him she knew Austinwhen she asked about the Crossing, but he replied: "I'm a friend ofMiss Austin's."

  "Ah!" she said thoughtfully; "do you mind explaining what you mean bythat?"

  "Perhaps it's hardly worth while, but I can't claim that Austin and Iare particularly friendly. Our business interests sometimes clash."

  She was silent for a few moments, and he wondered why both she and theman had been curious to know how far his acquaintance with Austin went.Then she looked up with a quick movement. "Newcastle is not a charmingtown, and if you have no other reason for going there, it might bebetter to post the packet."

  Foster was somewhat puzzled. She had spoken meaningly, as if she meantto give him a hint.

  "The trouble is that I promised Miss Austin to deliver it."

  "You have brought it to England," she persisted. "It will be safe inthe post------"

  She stopped with a glance at the door, and Foster heard a step in thepassage. Then she quietly turned to the man who had taken the packet.

  "I would have missed the train at Hawick but for this gentleman'shelp," she said. "Still, I did not know he was coming here until I sawhim as I passed the door."

  The other, who had looked at her rather sharply, nodded and gave Fosterthe packet.

  "As there was room enough, I wrote the new address on the cover."

  Foster thanked him and took his leave, but as the man went before himto the door the girl made a sign.

  "Post it," she whispered and turned back into the room.

  After leaving the house Foster walked along the road in a thoughtfulmood. The girl was apparently the man's daughter or niece. Theirrelative ages warranted the surmise, and her quick explanation of howshe came to be talking to a stranger indicated that she recognized hisauthority, while Foster thought she had been disturbed when she heardhis step. It was strange that she should urge him to post the packet,and he would sooner have done so, but it was not a long journey toNewcastle and he must keep his promise. Then he saw a tram-car comingand dismissed the matter.

  Going back to his hotel, he found there was an evening train anddecided to leave by it. Edinburgh had attractions, but he could comeback and was anxious to get rid of the packet, moreover he grudged thetime he spent away from the Garth. There were not many passengers atthe station and he found an empty compartment, where he read anewspaper until he got tired and lifting a corner of the blind lookedout. Here and there a light rushed back through the darkness andvanished as the express sped south with a smoothness that was acontrast to the jolting he had been used to in Canada. Indeed, exceptfor the roar when they ran across a bridge and the confused flashingpast of lamps as they swept through a station, he could hardly haveimagined himself on board a train. There was, however, not much to beseen, and he took out the packet.

  It looked somewhat bulkier and he examined it carefully, but the coverdid not seem to have been removed. It could not have been replaced byanother, because the original address was there and he knew Carmen'shand; then there was a seal, which he did not think could have beentampered with. Besides, the man had only had it for a minute or two,and if he had opened it, would probably have taken something outinstead of putting something in. Foster decided that he was mistakenabout its size and returned it to his pocket.

  Then he wanted a cigarette and took out the case he had got in the furcoat. Since he had left the coat in Montreal, the case was the onlyrecord of his adventure on the train, and he wondered whether he wouldever be able to restore it to its owner and speculated languidly aboutthe man. As the latter knew his name, it was strange that he had notcommunicated with him at the Windsor, as he had promised. He hadobviously not been attacked, because there had been nothing about it inthe Canadian newspapers. The thing was puzzling, but after all it didnot concern Foster much and he thought about something else.

  It was late when he arrived at Newcastle and went to an hotel. Therewas fog and rain next morning, and he saw very little of the town,which seemed filled with smoke. Taking a tram-car that carried himpast rows of dingy buildings and shops where lights twinkled, he gotout at the corner of a narrow street that ran back into the haze.After looking at the address on the packet, he plunged into the gloombeside a row of tall, sooty buildings. There was no pavement, and hereand there a cart stood beneath an opening in the wall. The buildingswere apparently warehouses, but some of the doors had brass plates andlights shone in the upper windows. By and by he found the number hewanted and entered a dirty arch, inside which a few names were paintedon the wall. Graham's was not there, but he went up the steps toinquire at the first office he reached.

  The lower stories were used as a warehouse and he came to the toplanding before he saw a name that seemed to be Danish or Scandinavianpainted on a door. Going in, he knocked on the counter. The officewas small and shabby and smelt of bacon, which he thought indicatedthat its occupant dealt in provisions, but he could not see muchbecause of a glass partition. When he was getting impatient, an oldman came to the counter.

  "Can you tell me if there's a Mr. Graham in this building?" Fosterasked.

  "Yes, he's here," said the other. "What do you want?"

  Foster said he had brought a packet from Canada, and the old man, wholooked rather hard at him, lifted a flap in the counter and told him topass through. A door in the partition opened as he advanced andanother man beckoned him to come in. It looked as if the latter hadheard what had passed, but this saved an explanation and Foster, whoasked if he was Graham, put the packet on a table. There was not muchelse in the small, dusty room, except a cupboard fitted withpigeon-holes, a desk, and a safe.

  "This is from Miss Austin of Gardner's Crossing," he remarked.

  Graham glanced at the packet carelessly, as if he did not consider itof much importance, and Foster felt puzzled. The fellow was not as oldas Carmen's father, but Foster thought there was nothing about him thatwould attract a girl used to admiration, as Carmen was. He wascertainly not handsome and had, on the whole, a commonplace look, whilehe was obviously in a small way of business.

  "Thank you," he said. "It seems you have been to Edinburgh. We had abranch there, but closed it recently. Newcastle has more facilitiesfor importing our goods. I'm afraid you have been put to some trouble."

  Foster replied that he did not mind this, since he had promised MissAustin to bring the packet and she was a friend of his, but although hestudied the man's face saw nothing to indicate that he was interested.

  "Are you staying here?" he asked, and when Foster told him that he wasgoing back as soon as he could, resumed: "If you had been staying, Iwould have been glad to take you about the town; but, after all,there's nothing much in the way of amusement going on. I might arrangeto meet you in the afternoon, but must now finish some letters for theContinental mail."

  Foster said he could not wait and went out, feeling that the other waspleased to get rid of him. Graham was obviously a small importer ofprovisions, and he could not see why the girl in Edinburgh had warnedhim to post the packet. Carmen's reason for sending such a mansomething she valued was impossible to discern.

  This, however, was not Foster's business, and after lunch he caught atrain to Hexham and, finding he could get no farther, spent the nightin the old Border town.