All these things, I say, I saw go on about me.
Yet in truth as to the inner workings of this I could
gain but little actual information. I saw England’s
ships, but it was not for me to know whether they were
to turn Cape Hope or the Horn. I saw Canada’s
voyageurs, but they might be only on their
annual journey, and might go no farther than their
accustomed posts in the West. In French town and
English town, among common soldiers, voyageurs,
inn-keepers and merchants, I wandered for more than
one day and felt myself still helpless.
That is to say, such was the case until there came
to my aid that greatest of all allies, Chance.
THE OTHER WOMAN
The world is the book
of women.—Rousseau.
I needed not to be advised that presently there would
be a meeting of some of the leading men of the Hudson
Bay Company at the little gray stone, dormer-windowed
building on Notre Dame Street. In this old building—in
whose vaults at one time of emergency was stored the
entire currency of the Canadian treasury—there
still remained some government records, and now under
the steep-pitched roof affairs were to be transacted
somewhat larger than the dimensions of the building
might have suggested. The keeper of my inn freely
made me a list of those who would be present—a
list embracing so many scores of prominent men whom
he then swore to be in the city of Montreal that, had
the old Chateau Ramezay afforded twice its room, they
could not all have been accommodated. For myself,
it was out of the question to gain admittance.
In those days all Montreal was iron-shuttered after
nightfall, resembling a series of jails; and to-night
it seemed doubly screened and guarded. None the
less, late in the evening, I allowed seeming accident
to lead me in a certain direction. Passing as
often as I might up and down Notre Dame Street without
attracting attention, I saw more than one figure in
the semi-darkness enter the low chateau door.
Occasionally a tiny gleam showed at the edge of a
shutter or at the top of some little window not fully
screened. As to what went on within I could only
guess.
I passed the chateau, up and down, at different times
from nine o’clock until midnight. The streets
of Montreal at that time made brave pretense of lighting
by virtue of the new gas works; at certain intervals
flickering and wholly incompetent lights serving to
make the gloom more visible. None the less, as
I passed for the last time, I plainly saw a shaft
of light fall upon the half darkness from a little
side door. There emerged upon the street the
figure of a woman. I do not know what led me
to cast a second glance, for certainly my business
was not with ladies, any more than I would have supposed
ladies had business there; but, victim of some impulse
of curiosity, I walked a step or two in the same direction
as that taken by the cloaked figure.
