He flung out of the saddle and saluted the inspector. Then he began fumbling in an inner pocket. Fyles understood his intention and sharply warned him.

"Not here. Now, in one word. Is it news from down East?"

The man nodded.

"Yes, sir. I believe so."

"You believe so?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Jason told me I'd to make here to-day--mid-day. Said you were waiting for this letter to act. He also said I was to avoid speaking to any one in the place till I'd delivered the despatch into your hands. He also said I was to remain here under your orders."

"d.a.m.nation! And we've had letters through the mail every day."

"Beg pardon, sir----"

McBain made a sign for silence, and the man broke off. But Fyles bade him go on.

"Mr. Jason warned me to be very careful, as it was a despatch he could not trust to the mail."

Fyles gave a short laugh.

"That'll do. Now, get mounted, and ride back the way you came into the valley. When you get out of it keep along the edge of it westwards.

You'll come to our camp five miles out. It's in a bluff. It's a shack on an abandoned farm. I can't direct you better, except it's just under the shoulder in the valley, and is approached by a cattle track.

You'll have to ride around till you locate it. McBain will be coming back soon. Maybe he'll pick you up. Avoid questions, and still more--answers. Keep the letter till McBain gets in."

"Very good, sir."

The man remounted and rode away. His coming had been so sudden, his stay so brief, and his departure so rapid, that Fyles had achieved something of his purpose in repairing any damage Superintendent Jason had done to his plans in acting contrary to his subordinate's wishes.

The sharp-eyed villagers had witnessed the interview with suspicions lulled. There had been no despatch delivered, and the man was off again the way he had come. Surely nothing very significant had taken place. Possibly, after all, the man was merely a patrol from some outlying station.

Fyles turned to his lieutenant.

"We're going to get busy," he said, with a shadowy smile.

The older man could not conceal his appreciation.

"Looks that way, sir."

"I'll look over the mail myself," Fyles went on. "You best get back to camp, and see to that letter. Guess you'll wait for me to take action.

You can get out across the valley south. Ride on west and ford the river up at the crossing--Winter's Crossing. See if the patrol's in.

Then make camp--and keep an eye skinned for that boy. I'll get along later."

The sergeant saluted and sprang into the saddle. Fyles pa.s.sed into the mail office as the man rode off.

Allan Dy was used to these visits of the inspector. There were very few country postmasters who were not used to such visits. It was a process of espionage which was never acknowledged, yet one that was carried on extensively in suspected districts. There was never any verbal demand, or acquiescence, in the manner in which it was carried out. When the police officer appeared the day's mail was usually in the process of being sorted, and was generally to be found spread out lying in full view of the searching eyes.

Fyles walked in. Pa.s.sed the time of day. Collected his own mail and that of the men under him. Chatted pleasantly with the subservient official, and started to pa.s.s out again. In those brief moments he had seen all he wanted to see, which on this occasion was little enough.

There were only four letters from the East, The rest were all of local origin. One of the eastern letters was for O'Brien, and it carried an insurance firm's superscription. There were two letters for Kate Seton, both from New York, and both carrying the firm styles of well-known retail traders in women's clothing. The fourth was addressed to Charlie Bryant, and bore no trader's imprint.

As he neared the door of the little office he had to stand aside as Kate Seton made her way in.

Fyles felt that his luck was certainly in. The news he had awaited with so much impatience had been received at last, and now--well, his quick appreciative eyes took in the delightfully fresh, wholesome appearance of this woman, who had made such inroads upon his usually unemotional heart. There was not a detail escaped him. The rounded figure suggesting virility and physical well-being. Her delightful, purposeful face full of a wide intelligence and strength. Those wonderful dark eyes of such pa.s.sionate, tender depth, which yet held possibilities for every emotion which finds its place in the depth of a strong heart.

She was clad, too, so differently from the general run of the villagers. Like her sister, though in a lesser degree, she breathed the air of a city--a city far from these western regions, a city where refinement and culture inspires a careful regard for outward appearance.

She smiled upon him as he stood aside. Somehow the shyness which her sister had accused her of seemed to have gone. Her whole atmosphere was that of a cordial welcome.

"You're early down for your mail, Mr. Fyles," she said, after greeting him. "I'm generally right on the spot before Allan Dy is through.

Still, I dare say your mail is more important, and stands for no delay."

"It's the red tape of our business, Miss Seton," Fyles replied, with a light shrug. "We're always getting orders that should rightly be executed before they can possibly reach us. It's up to us to get them the moment they arrive."

Kate's smile was good to see. There was just that dash of ironical challenge in her eyes which Fyles was beginning to a.s.sociate with her.

"Still working out impossible problems which don't really--exist?"

The man returned her smile.

"Still working out problems," he said. Then he added slyly, "Problems which must be solved, in spite of a.s.surances of their non-existence."

"You mean--what I said to you the other day?"

Fyles nodded.

Kate's eyes sobered, and the change in their expression came near to melting the officer's heart.

"I'm sorry," she said simply. Then she sighed. "But I s'pose you must see things your own way." She glanced at the mail counter. "You had a despatch rider in this morning. I saw him coming down the trail.

Everybody saw him."

Just for a moment Fyles's strong brows drew together. He was reluctant to deliberately lie to this woman. He felt that to do so was not worthy. He felt that a lie to her was a thing to be despised.

"We had a patrol in," he said guardedly.

Kate smiled.

"A patrol from--Amberley?"

Again was that ironical challenge in Kate's eyes. Fyles's responsive smile was that of the fencer.

"You are too well informed."

But the woman shook her head.

"Not so well informed as I could wish," she said. Then she laughed as her merry sister might have laughed, and the policeman wanted to join in it by reason of its very infection. "There's a whole heap of things I'd like to know. I'd like to know why a government of the people makes a law n.o.body wants, and spends the public's money in enforcing it. Also I'd like to know why they take a vicious delight in striving to make criminals of honest enough people in the process. Also I'd like to know how your people intend to trip up certain people for a crime which they have never committed, and don't intend to commit, and, anyway, before they can be punished must be caught red-handed.

You've got your problems sure enough, and--and these are some of the simplest of mine. Oh, dear--it almost makes my head whirl when I think of them. But I must do so, because," her smile died out, and the man watched the sudden determined setting of her lips, "I'm against you as long as you are--against him. Good-bye. I must get my mail."