“You didn’t think there would be this— lid you, Slim?

“Well—I made Slim go. And when he yas away, this is what my husband Dave rotheroe did to me.”

Never once did Jean Protheroe falter in

ier story, but her breathing came in short sasps and betrayed the terrible emotion ander which she was labouring. “Dave stripped me to the waist and jragged me out into the bitter cold. He tied ne hands and feet, to the tree beside the yarn. And then he lashed me with his jog-whip—that whip hanging up there. If you look at it now you will find blood on t—my blood—black now and all congealed. But Dave got little satisfaction out of all jis lashing.

“ ‘Scream, he - cried. let up on ye.”

“But I didn’t scream, and he had to stop rt last—the coward! He had to stop, for he knew that it would mean the hangman’s rope for him before I'd scream at anything he could do to me.

“When Slim came back, he never knew rbout this, for I never told him. He didn’t know till now, any more than you two knew. I took it alone so’s I could get even lone.”

She paused and tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked toward the man she loved, who perhaps, was all unworthy of such love.

She turned to Slim with a sad look on

her face.

‘Scream and [ll

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“Yes, Slim,” she continued. ‘*That’s what your crazy old bushed cousin Dave did to me.

Turns Cousin Our

“Dave ordered Slim to get ready to leave right away, and I thought it best that he should leave, so I did not try to stop him. Dave went with him to make sure he got clear out of the country.”

Sergeant Dalgleish interrupted her at this point.

“All very good, Mrs. Protheroe. I be- lieve you are telling the truth, but tell me this: How did you shoot your husband and where were you when you shot him? You were supposed to be here at home. Dave was with Slim on the trail, by the lake, when this shooting took place.”

“T have told you the truth, and the truth doesn’t have to hunt for excuses and alibis. I shot Dave—I have nothing to hide now. It was all simple enough. -

“Soon after Dave left with Slim, I fol- lowed them, taking an axe and a gun with me, ready to use either if the chance showed up. When Slim turned back for his axe, I got my chance and I made good use of it. I shot Dave from behind a tree. I got frightened when I went over to him and found him dead by the fishing hole. It was then the idea came to me to make it look like a case of drowning. I drove the dogs right up to the opening in the ice, then I slid Dave’s body in and well under. That is how Slim couldn’t find the body when he tried.

“Yes—it was all over in a few seconds, and I was well on my way back here before Slim had a chance to get to the fishing hole again. J—J—!

“Oh, you police!” she laughed hyster- ically. “You think you are all so damned —so damned clever.”

She put her forearm across her eyes in a tired way, swayed, then dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

The men ran to her aid and she quickly revived.

It was a harrowing business, and even the hardened Sergeant Dalgleish was puz- zled. But it had to be seen through to its conclusion.

Jean Protheroe was lifted from the floor and placed tenderly on an easy chair.

“T am very sorry, Mrs. Protheroe,” said Dalgleish earnestly, “I am sorry for both of you—but I am sure you understand that with us it is merely a matter of duty. Iam afraid, as it stands now, you will both have to return with us to headquarters. And the sooner we start the better for all concerned.”

Soon Jean Protheroe’s personal belongings were bundled up and loaded on one of the sleds, along with the officers’ equipment.

ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY

Greene was busy in the bedroom prepar- ing Dave Protheroe’s body for the trip out, turning it over preparatory to wrapping it securely in a blanket. He placed the dead man’s hands across his chest, and as he did so he noticed a tuft of hair showing from between the fingers of the man’s clenched

right hand.

“Dalgleish! Sergeant!” he shouted ex- citedly. “Here! Quick!”

Dalgleish hurried in at the urgent call, and young Greene pointed to the tightly clenched fist.

“See! In his hand!” he whispered.

Dalgleish knelt down. He raised the dead man’s hand and pried the frigid fingers apart, disclosing a whole tuft of human hair.

“Good heavens! <A fistful of red hair!” he exclaimed. ‘“And—that—woman—lied! My God—and how she lied!” he muttered between his teeth.

“Bob! she didn’t kill Dave Protheroe, in spite of the fact that he must have lashed her good and plenty. But this confirms what I have suspected right from the start, that Protheroe was shot with a revolver and from close quarters.

“And what’s more—there is only one man with this wild red colour of hair within a hundred miles of here—old Pete Mullen— and the man who grows this hair is the man who murdered Dave Protheroe. Ay— it’s an open and shut case now, laddie.

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