The Intriguers   By: Harold Bindloss (1866-1945)

The Intriguers

By HAROLD BINDLOSS

Author of "Ranching for Sylvia," "Alton of Somasco," "Thurston of Orchard Valley," "By Right of Purchase," Etc.

With Frontispiece in Colors By

D. C. HUTCHISON

A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS

114 120 East Twenty third Street New York

Published by Arrangement With Frederick A. Stokes Company

Copyright, 1914, by

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

All rights reserved

February, 1914

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I THE BLAKE AFFAIR II ON THE RIVER BOAT III THE COUSINS IV THE MAN FROM CONNECTICUT V CORNERING THE BOBCAT VI THE PRAIRIE VII THE OCCULT MAN VIII TROUBLE IX A SUSPICIOUS MOVE X THE MUSKEG XI KIDNAPPED XII THE FEVER PATIENT XIII A STAUNCH ALLY XIV DEFEAT XV THE FROZEN NORTH XVI THE TRAIL OF THE CARIBOU XVII A RESPITE XVIII THE BACK TRAIL XIX THE DESERTED TEPEES XX A STARTLING DISCOVERY XXI A MATTER OF DUTY XXII THE GIRL AND THE MAN XXIII SOLVING THE PROBLEM XXIV LOVE AND VICTORY

THE INTRIGUERS

CHAPTER I

THE BLAKE AFFAIR

On a fine morning early in July Mrs. Keith sat with a companion, enjoying the sunshine, near the end of Dufferin Avenue, which, skirts the elevated ground above the city of Quebec. Behind her rose the Heights of Abraham where the dying Wolfe wrested Canada from France; in front, churches, banks, offices and dwellings, curiously combining the old and the very new, rose tier on tier to the great red Frontenac Hotel. It is a picturesque city that climbs back from its noble river; supreme, perhaps, in its situation among Canadian towns, and still retaining something of the exotic stamp set upon it by its first builders whose art was learned in the France of long ago.

From where she sat Mrs. Keith could not see the ugly wooden wharves. Her glance rested on the flood that flowed toward her, still and deep, through a gorge lined with crags and woods, and then, widening rapidly, washed the shores of a low, green island. Opposite her white houses shone on the Levis ridge, and beyond this a vast sweep of country, steeped in gradations of color that ended in ethereal blue, rolled away toward the hills of Maine.

Mrs. Keith and her companion were both elderly. They had played their part in the drama of life, one of them in a strenuous manner, and now they were content with the position of lookers on. So far, however, nothing had occurred since breakfast to excite their interest.

"I think I'll go to Montreal by the special boat tonight," Mrs. Keith said with characteristic briskness. "The hotel's crowded, the town's full, and you keep meeting people whom you know or have heard about. I came here to see Canada, but I find it hard to realize that I'm not in London; I'm tired of the bustle."

Mrs. Ashborne smiled. She had met Margaret Keith by chance in Quebec, but their acquaintance was of several years' standing.

"Tired?" she said. "That is sorely a new sensation for you. I've often envied you your energy."

Age had touched Mrs. Keith lightly, though she had long been a childless widow and had silvery hair. Tall and finely made, with prominent nose and piercing eyes, she was marked by a certain stateliness and a decided manner. She was blunt without rudeness, and though often forceful was seldom arrogant.

Careless of her dress, as she generally was, Margaret Keith bore the stamp of refinement and breeding, "Ah!" she said; "I begin to feel I'm old. But will you come to Montreal with me to night?"

"I suppose I'd better, though the boat takes longer than the train, and I hear that the Place Viger is full. I don't know anything about the other hotels; they might not be comfortable."