human
Oh, it's Meydon, is it, that bad case I heard of to-day?
gpt
As purty a woman, too--as purty and as straight bewhiles. What is the matter with him--with Meydon?
human
An accident in the woods--so. He arrive, it is las' night, from Great Slave Lake.
gpt
Ten years ago he was a man to look at twice--before he did _It_ and got away. Now his own mother wouldn't know him--bad 'cess to him! I knew him from the cradle almost. I spotted him here by a knife-cut I gave him in the hand when we were lads together. A divil of a timper always both of us had, but the good-nature was with me, and I didn't drink and gamble and carry a pistol. It's ten years since he did the killing, down in Quebec, and I don't suppose the police will get him now. He's been counted dead. I recognized him here the night after I asked her how she liked the name of Finden. She doesn't know that I ever knew him. And he didn't recognize me--twenty-five years since we met before! It would be better if he went under the sod. Is he pretty sick, father?
human
He will die unless the surgeon's knife it cure him before twenty-four hours, and--
gpt
And Doctor Brydon is sick, and Doctor Hadley away at Winnipeg, and this is two hundred miles from nowhere! It looks as if the police'll never get him, eh?
human
You have not tell any one--never?
gpt
Though I'm not a priest, I can lock myself up as tight as anny. There's no tongue that's so tied, when tying's needed, as the one that babbles most bewhiles. Babbling covers a lot of secrets.
human
So you t'ink it better Meydon should die, as Hadley is away and Brydon is sick--_hein_?
gpt
Oh, I think--