uple of nights ago, but she and old Mrs.
2 Roux say he’s crazy.”
“Desjarlais still as thick with Mrs.
ichards ?”
Chartrand’s. brown eyes narrowed.
Phere’s something queer going on
ere,’ he frowned. “Her old man got
yme a week ago, after three months in
e bush—and beat it again next day!”
“Next day!’ Scheper’s eyebrows lifted.
“Ves, Ordinarily hed have stuck
ound, but they say here that Desjarlais
n him out of town. That he’s got a case
1 with Emma, Richards’ sixteen-year-old
wughter, and has her mother so badly
iffaloed he’s just about running the
ebang.”
Schepers’ mind raced back to his visit
the Richards’ home. Again he saw the
etty, dark-eyed brunette. He’d thought
the time she must be at least eighteen.
Chartrand’s statement was correct,
re was a case for criminal action that
ould put Desjarlais out of the way, and
obably loosen Mrs. Richards’ tongue.
Schepers and Chartrand called on Mrs.
ichards and questioned her regarding
+ husband’s abrupt departure.
“He heard of a job in a lumber camp
Fairford,” she answered.
“That ain't what I heard,” Chartrand
terrupted. “They say around here that
: was chased out of town by Desjarlais
that Desjarlais’ running after your
ughter and don’t want her father
ound.”
“Tt’s a wicked lie,” the woman’s eyes
med with anger. “Sure, Desjarlais
mes here. He plays with Mary and
tlie and Ida, and treats them like a
ther. These people,” she added furi-
isly, “they’re always talking.”

Foorprints First REAL CLuE

When repeated questioning failed to
ake either Mrs. Richards or Emma,
chepers strode to the door. As he
ossed the threshold his eye fell on a
otprint clearly imbedded in the wet
ay. Turning swiftly he glanced at the
rl’s feet encased in small, low-heeled
joes.

“What were you doing outside the Cha-
yer cabin on Christmas Eve?” he de-
anded tersely,

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_ He was astonished at the reaction. The

girl’s face blanched, while Mrs. Richards
emitted a cry and tore at her throat as
though for air.
_, You'd better tell me everything before
it’s too late,” Schepers warned, but his
words only seemed to deepen the terror
that appeared to hold them. T hey refused
to answer questions.

As the Constable strode back along the
road Chartrand plucked at his sleeve. A
hundred feet ahead a swaggering figure
wearing moccasins was swinging along
with the tread of one accustomed to snow-
shoes. No second glance was necessary to
tell him that the man was Desjarlais. As
he disappeared into Kerr’s store they ac-
celerated their pace. Entering behind him

An aura of mystery lurked about the home of
Mrs. Richards which police were wunable to
penetrate.

Schepers was greeted with a sidelong leer
from the big trapper as the latter handed
a beaver skin across the counter. Next
moment a car chugged to a halt outside
and a traveller in spring coat and grey
fedora came up the steps.

Still watching Desjarlais through the
corner of his eye Schepers was startled
at the change that crossed the half-breed’s
swarthy countenance. Amazement, fear
and anger swept in swift succession across
his features, followed by a bold and chal-
lenging look.

Not a word was exchanged, but Schep-
ers noted the half-smile of recognition on
the traveller's face melt into a frown as
he turned and shook hands with Kerr. No
other sign passed as Desjarlais made his
purchase and strode outside. The Con-
stable had a feeling, however, that he’d
contrived to shoot a warning glance at the
traveller.

“Stick around,’ he muttered to Chart-
rand, then, stepping to the sidewalk, he
waited for the traveller to appear.

“Tust a minute.’ Pete touched him on
his shoulder as he stepped towards his
sedan. “I see you and Desjarlais are
acquainted.”

“Why, yes.”’ The traveller threw him a
surprised glance.

“Supposing,” Schepers said, “you tell
me your name, and what you know about
him.”

Ner Crostnc Rounp SUSPECT

“Tm Jack Steel of the Mid-West Gro-
cers,” the stranger answered. “And that
fellow Desjarlais,” came the startling
announcement, “is a murderer—I thought
he’d beat it across the line.”

Sidney Spyer, N.P. E. Bruce Cousins

COSSITT, BEATTIE & SPYER

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