The Phantom tiller of

St. Laurent

*

By
PHILIP H. GODSELL,

F.R.G.S.

*

Five Times the Phantom of the Forests Struck Ere Nemesis, in the Khaki-clad
Form of Const. Pete Schepers Brought an End to the Reign of Terror.

COMMISSIONER J. H. MARTIN,
chief of the Manitoba Provincial Police,
pushed aside the crime report and gazed
thoughtfully through the frosted window
at the grey pile of Winnipeg’s Parliament
Buildings. It was January 6th, and a
boisterous wind whipped clouds of spin-
ning flakes around the Golden Boy who
gazed unconcernedly from his lofty perch
atop the dome of the buildings at the fur-

Philip H. Godsell, veteran Northerner.

clad pedestrians hurrying by with up-
turned collars.

A discordant jangle at his elbow caused
him to clap the telephone receiver to his
ear. As he listened to the voice that came
over long distance, his wiry frame stiff-
ened. A moment later his curt call sum-
moned Const. Rudolph “Pete” Schepers
from the outer office.

A deep- chested, ruddy - faced man,
carrying his neat khaki uniform with
military erectness, stepped in briskly.

“There’s been a murder at St. Laur-
ent,” the Commissioner told him. Const.

P.O. Box 310

Southern Okanagan
Machinery Limited

Manufacturers and Distributors of
Orchard Equipment
Orchard Wagons, Trailers, Tanks and
SPECIAL EQUIPMENT for the Fruit Industry
Miller-Robinson LIMB LOPPERS
Aluminum Ladders

OLIVER, B.C.

Phone 92

Canada

EIGHTEENTH EDITION

Valder’s just phoned in from Eriksdale.
Tell Const. Supeene to have the car ready.
You'll leave with Sergt. Painter right
away.”

Two hours later the three officers drove
through the mounting drifts of St. Laur-
ent’s four-mile Main Street flanked by
its scattered, white-walled dwellings and
an occasional square - fronted _ store.
Guided by a swarthy Frenchman, they
rocked along a rutted sleigh trail and
drew up before a log cabin guarded by
the buffalo-coated form of Const. Percy
Valder.

Pushing through the crowd of excited
villagers, Sergt. Painter stepped inside.
He drew back a dark coat draped over a
huddled object on the floor, and gasped.
“Good Lord!” His jaw tightened as his
eyes swept the frozen, blood-smeared
body, and battered head. His swift gaze
took in the bloodstained walls, the broken
chairs and signs of a furious struggle.
Dropping to his knees, he examined the
body more closely.

“Whoever did this was a fiend. This
man was struck repeated blows—even
after he was dead. Rustle around,’ he
ordered grimly, “and see if you can find
the axe that was used.” ;

As the photographer and fingerprint
expert got busy, Schepers picked up a
grey cloth belt matted with frozen blood
and noticed that it belonged to a light,
fall overcoat, which was missing.

“There’s one thing I can’t figure out,”

he commented, turning to Painter. “Why ~

should the killer, after mutilating the man
like that, cover him up carefully with that
coat? I’ve a hunch a woman figures in
this somewhere.” His words were cut
short by the appearance of Supeene with
a rough-handled axe, which was carefully
wrapped and placed in the car to be
checked for fingerprints.

Victim LrKep By NEIGHBOURS

Leaving Valder to guard the place, the
officers returned to the village and
mingled with the scattered groups dis-
cussing the tragedy with French volubil-
ity and fear-stricken faces. It was evident
that the victim, Ambroise Chaboyer, was
held in more than usual esteem. He was
a hard worker, they learned. A light-
hearted, genial youth of twenty-two, gen-

erous to a fault and much sought after
by the fair sex. Ambroise, it was ad-
mitted, had a weakness for his glass of
whisky blanc, but was never quarrel-
some in his cups. He had no enemies,
they said—and what was there in his
humble home to tempt any man to mur-
der? True, he’d made a little money fish-

Constable “Pete” Schepers, friend of the writer,

who dogged relentlessly the obscure trail of a

diabolical murderer —and finally proved his
Nemesis.

ing, but who would want to kill him for
the sake of a few paltry dollars?

“Yet,” concluded Painter as he pre-
pared to return to Winnipeg next morn-~
ing, “someone had it in for him. None
but a madman, or someone with a bitter
score to settle, would have continued to
hack at him after he was dead. Might

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FAIRVIEW MOTORS
Jack Fletcher, Proprietor

Home Gas and Oil Products
Complete Automotive Service
GM Specialists - Electric and Acetylene
Welding - Collision Repairs and Paint Shop

OLIVER B. C.

Page Ninety-five