Philip Steele of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police

the world he was in, to another in which his mind was only vaguely conscious, stunned by this letter that had come with the unexpectedness of a thunderbolt to change, in

it dawned upon him what the flowers meant. The colonel had written the letter, and Isobel had sent the faded violets, with their golden thread. It was her message to him-a message without words, and yet with a deeper meaning for him than word

ntrol of his emotions. If Isobel Becker had merely written him a line or two, a note exculpating herself of what her father had already explained a

le himself at the feet of the woman he loved, and ask her forgiveness for the heinous thing he had done. He wanted to tell her that he had driven Bucky Nome into outlawry, that he had fought for her, and run away himself-becau

y ca

his keen little eyes scrutinizing Philip's feverish f

"One of the kind that makes you think your brain mu

aid his hand o

. I just came in to tell you the news. They've got track of DeBar again,

stion," said Philip.

m from the end of the earth it would have made no difference; his determination would have been the same. He would return to Lac Bain-but how? That was the question which puzzled him. He still had thirteen months of service ahead of him. He was not in line for a furlough. It would take at least three months of official red tape to pu

rracks. He had heard a great deal about DeBar, the cleverest criminal in all the northland, and whom no man or combination of men had been clever enough to catch. And now this man was near Lac la Biche, in the Churchill and Lac Bain country.

cks, and wrote out his request to MacGregor. He sent it

minutes later the inspector greeted him with outstretched hand, gave him a grip that made his finger

lf at his desk and motioning Philip to a chair. "To be frank with y

en't sufficient confiden

e greater confidence than you. But, if I was to gamble, I'd wager te

-only reverse the odds,

is long red mustaches and smil

ouldn't care to go after him myself-alone. I'd want another hand with me, and a mighty good one-a man who was cool, cautious, and who knew all of the ins and outs of the game as well as myself. And here-" He interrupted himself, and

MacGregor," interrupted Philip. "I realize that DeBar is a dangerous man,

gers of his big hands clasped in front of him. He always took this position, with a cigar smoldering beside

ne that you don't get him. Since '99 four men have gone out after him, and none has come back. There was Forbes, who went in that year; Bannock, who took up the trial in 1902; Fleisham in 1904, and Gresham in 1907. Since the time of Gresham's disappearance w

s to pick up a worn paper fr

n brothers," he added.

ning," interj

iscovered, beyond a doubt, that the law had taken the life of an innocent man, and that DeBar had been sent to the gallows by a combination of evidence fabricated entirely by the perjury of enemies. The law should have vindicated itself. But it didn't. Two of those who had plotted against DeBar were ar

exclaime

lushed, then sat bolt upright and smiled frankly into the i

wo years each for good behavior, and are somewhere in South America. The fourth killed himself when he was taken near Moose Factory, and the other three went what the law calls 'bad.' Henry, the oldest of them all, killed the officer who was bringing him do

and ran his eyes over

mmitted by the law itself. Five men hung, one a suicide, three in

mes, ruin states, set itself a Nemesis on innocent men's heels-but it can do no wrong. It is the Juggernaut before which we all must bow our heads, even you and I, and w

, the seventh brot

attempt to save his brother at Moose Factory. Since then, Forbes, Bannock, Fleisham and Gresham have disappeared, and they all went out after him. They were all good men, powerful physically, skilled in the ways of the wilderness, and as brave as tigers. Yet they all failed. And not only that, they lost their lives. Whethe

ith your permissi

at once fell into its

or at Fond du Lac will put you next to your man. Whatever e

ying that the interview was at

ritten home, saying that for a long time he would not be hear