"I know his character--and unless he's badly slandered that's enough! I
haven't met him, but I'm nearly sure it was a city man I saw in
Driscoll's camp."

"Stormont's indicated," Scott replied. "I reckon Driscoll went to him
because he needed capital; but he wouldn't put another fellow on the
track. If we take it for granted that he did go, the mystery about
Strange's letters is cleared up. It's characteristic that Stormont tried
to steal them before he made Miss Strange his offer."

"In a way, it's curious that he did make an offer!"

Scott smiled. "He didn't run much risk. It would be hard to frame an
agreement out of which Stormont couldn't wriggle; I've met the fellow,
and Brinsmead has grounds for knowing his methods. Anyhow, it's plain
that he thinks it worth while to spend some money in trying to find the
lode, and on such matters his judgment is said to be pretty good. Then I
imagine Black Steve knows more about Strange's prospecting trips than
you suspect."

"My notion is, that nobody knows much about the lode."

"Well," said Scott, "it looks like that. Strange is dead, and I don't
imagine he took Black Steve very far into his confidence; though he may
have given him a hint when he was drunk. But there's another man, whom
nobody seems to have thought of yet."

"Who's that?"

"The Hudson's Bay agent at the factory where Strange was employed.