woman because she is woman.  A man may steal, he may kill, but he must not break this law.  If he steals or kills, the mounted police may bring the offender to justice; but if he breaks this other law there is but one punishment, and that is the punishment of the people.  That is what this letter purposes to do—­to break this law in order that its penalty may fall upon us.  And if they succeed, God help us!”

It was Gregson who jumped to his feet now.  He took half a dozen nervous steps, paused, lighted a cigarette, and looked down into Philip’s upturned face.

“I understand now where the fight is coming in,” he said.  “If this thing goes through, these people will rise and wipe you off the map.  They’ll lay it to you and your men, of course.  And I fancy it won’t be a job half done if they feel about it as I’d feel.  But,” he demanded, sharply, “why don’t you put the affair into the hands of the proper authorities—­the police or the government?  You’ve got—­By George, you must have the name of the man to whom that letter was addressed!”

Philip handed him a soiled white envelope, of the kind in which official documents are usually mailed.

“That’s the man.”

Gregson gave a low whistle.

“Lord—­Fitzhugh—­Lee!” he read, slowly, as though scarce believing his eyes.  “Great Scott!  A British peer!”

The cynical smile on Philip’s lips cut his words short.

“Perhaps,” he said.  “But if there is a British lord up here he isn’t very well known, Greggy.  No one knows of him.  No one has heard a rumor of him.  That is why we can’t go to the police or the government.  They’d give small credence to what we’ve got to show.  This letter wouldn’t count the weight of a feather without further evidence, and a lot of it.  Besides, we haven’t time to go to the government.  It is too far away and too slow.  And as for the police—­I know of three in this territory, and there are fifteen thousand square miles of mountains and plains and forest in their ‘beat.’  It’s up to you and me to find this Lord Fitzhugh.  If we can do that we will be in a position to put a kibosh on this plot in a hurry.  If we fail to run him down—­”

“What then?”

“We’ll have to watch our chances.  I’ve told you all that I know, and you’re on an even working basis with me.  At first I thought that I understood the object of those who are planning to ruin us in this cowardly manner.  But I don’t now.  If they ruin us they also destroy the chances of any other company that may be scheming to usurp our place.  For that reason I—­”

“There must still be other factors in the game,” said Gregson, as Philip hesitated.

“There are.  I want you to work out your own suspicions, Greggy, and then we’ll compare notes.  Lord Fitzhugh is the key to the whole situation.  No matter who is at the bottom of this plot, Lord Fitzhugh is the man at the working end of it.  We don’t care so much about the writer of this letter as the one to whom it was written.  It is evident that he had planned to be at Churchill, for the letter is addressed to him here.  But he hasn’t shown up.  He has never been here, so far as I can discover.”