be a persistent sleuth. All he had to start on was a buckle on
the vest of the victim, indicating Kalamazoo as its place of origin. It
was a far cry from Michigan, but by process of investigation one James
Smith from that State came and identified the body as that of his
stepson, whose name was Leon Stainton. The young man, who had some
money, had left Kalamazoo, in company with a more or less chance
acquaintance, generally called "Bud" Bullock, though his right name was
Charles B. Bullock. But Bullock had disappeared, leaving not a trace
behind. He was known to be a miner, and Hetherington got on the track of
mining areas. He first went to Kalamazoo and got a sample of Bullock's
writing from an hotel register. Hetherington did not expect to find
Bullock's name on hotel registers after the date of the murder, but the
Sergeant studied handwriting and the formation of the letters in the
name. Then he came back to Calgary and searched the hotel registers till
he got a name where the same letters looked alike. Bullock had changed
his name, but he could not get away from the alphabet. Then Hetherington
haunted the mining districts all the way from Michigan to the mountains,
and searched hotel registers and pay rolls for three long months. That
took a lot of dogged determination, but though he was getting new names
all along the way the Sergeant detected similarity in letters, and by
mingling with the miners, found out where the man had gone from place to
place. Then the handwriting would be compared in that new locality.
Finally, in Montana, Hetherington found on a pay roll a new name where
similar letters corresponded, and the man was at work there. The
Sergeant went amongst the miners, recognized Bullock, and putting his
hand on his shoulder said, "Hello, Bullock." The man started and said,
"My name is not Bullock." "Oh yes, it is," said the Mounted Policeman,
"it is Charles B. Bullock, _alias_ Bud Bullock, and I am here to arrest
you for the murder of Leon Stainton, near Ponoka, in Alberta." Then the
man caved in and said, "I always felt that the red-coats would get me,
even if it took years." He owned up, and as it was useless to fight
extradition he came back with Hetherington and after trial paid the
penalty for his crime. But think of the endless patience and doggedness
of Hetherington, who, with only a scrap of handwriting on a fragment of
paper, searched for months, day and night, over half a continent for
similar le