y of justice--if caught. But they would
not be caught. He assured himself of that, smiling grimly in the
darkness. No one at Wekusko could explain what had happened.

He was positive that the guard had not recognized him, and that he
would think one of Thorpe's friends had effected the rescue. And
MacGregor--Philip chuckled as he thought of the condemning evidence in
his possession, the strange orders which would mean dismissal for the
inspector, and perhaps a greater punishment, if he divulged them. He
would be safe in telling MacGregor something of what had occurred in the
little cabin. And then, as he sat in this grim atmosphere of death, a
thought came to him of M'sieur Janette's skull, of Bucky Nome, and of
the beautiful young wife at Lac Bain.

If Mrs. Becker could know of this, too--if Bucky Nome, buried somewhere
deep in the northern wilderness, could only see Hodges as he lay
there, dead on the cabin floor! To the one it would be a still greater
punishment, to the other a warning. And yet, even as he thought of the
colonel's wife and of her flirtation with Nome, a vision of her face
came to him again, filled with the marvelous sweetness, the purity, and
the love which had enthralled him beside the campfire. In these moments
it was almost impossible for him to convince himself that she had
forgotten her dignity as a wife even for an hour. Could he have been
mistaken? Had he looked at her with eyes heated by his own love, fired
by jealousy? If she had smiled upon him instead of upon Bucky Nome, if
her cheeks had flushed at his words, would he have thought that she
had done wrong? As if in answer to his own questions, he saw again the
white, tense face of the colonel, her husband, and he laughed harshly.

For several hours Philip remained in the shelter of Hodges' office. With
early dawn he stole out into the forest, and a little later made his
appearance in camp, saying that he had spent the night at Le Pas. Not
until an hour later was it discovered that Hodges had been killed, the
guard made a prisoner, and that Thorpe and his wife were gone. Philip
at once took charge of affairs and put a strain on his professional
knowledge by declaring that Thorpe had undoubtedly fled into the North.
Early in the afternoon he started in pursuit.

A dozen miles north of the Wekusko camp he swung at right angles to the
west, traveled fifteen miles, then cut a straight course south. It was
three days later before he showed up