Helen gave the constables food, and when the meal was over, joined them by the stove. The young men were frankly tired, and, although the iron was red-hot, one shivered.
“I suppose you go on again in the morning,” Helen remarked.
“Our orders are not very particular,” Constable Lawson replied. “The superintendent reckoned Mr. Fraser would put us wise. If he thought nothing was doing about St. Martin and Murray needed us, we must report to the sergeant.”
Helen pondered. She had wanted Fothergill to capture Lafarge. So long as the fellow was at liberty, Fothergill would not leave the force, and Helen agreed that he ought not to do so. All the same, the job he had undertaken was dangerous. Lafarge had shot a policeman, and when one took the trail in winter, one risked savage blizzards, rott
