my report at the Post. And I had better warn you that you may have a little trouble about this matter. Things in the North here are not like they were a few years back, when any wandering white man felt himself justified in potting any Indian whose presence he considered inimical. The administration of the Territories is very tender towards the natives under its charge, and watchful of their interests. It is bound to be.. Since it expects the red man to accept its laws, it can do no less than compel whites to honour them."

"Oh I know all that," said Ainley, a trifle contemptuously. "But you won't claim that the circumstances of this affair are anything but extraordinary."

"No," agreed the policeman, "I think they are very extraordinary."

Something significant in his tones caused Ainley to look at him questioningly. The policeman, whose face was like a mask, was staring into the fire, and did not catch the look. Ainley made as if to speak, then changed his mind and remained silent. After a little time Anderton spoke again.

"Seems a long time since we three men foregathered at Oxford."

"Yes," agreed Ainley, apparently relieved at the change of subject. "A A good bit of water has gone down the Isis since then."

"And all the circumstances considered it is rather a coincidence that we three should meet like this in the wilderness."

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"It certainly is dramatic," admitted Ainley. Quite a Drury Lane drama.'

"More so than you know, Ainley," answered Anderton quickly. "Stane, let Ainley have a look at that piece of paper you carry about with you."

A moment later Stane had opened the oilskin packet, and was unfolding the sheet of note-paper. Ainley watched him in amazement, and then as Stane held the paper towards him, and he bent over it, a look of consternation came on his face, and a quick oath broke from his lips. "God in heaven!"

"You had better put that paper in safety, again, Stane," said the policeman quickly. "Ainley recognized it first glance."

"It's a lie," cried Ainley. "I've never seen the thing in my life before!"

"Your tongue lies better than your face, Ainley. Just now your face told the truth. You have seen that paper before. You saw it at Oxford when you prepared yourself for the forgery that sent Stane to prison. You——"

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I'll not stand it!" cried Ainley jumping to his feet. 'You are charging me with a crime of which a judge and jury found Stane guilty. It is insufferable. You can't expect any man to sit still."

"Where did you find that paper, Stane?" interrupted the policeman brusquely.

In a copy of Jowett's Plato which Ainley had borrowed from me, and which he returned to my scout after I was arrested."

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It's a barefaced lie! A plot!" cried Ainley. "I'm surprised at you, Anderton — a representative

of the law too - lending yourself to such an absurd charge. You ought to know better."

"I know more than you think, Ainley. You remember Jarlock who was in our set?"

"Jarlock!" The name broke from Ainley in a tone of consternation.

"Yes, Jarlock! A good fellow, Jarlock. A friend who could forgive a friend his faults, who indeed could on occasion overlook a crime when he thought it was the crime of a hard-pressed man."

"What in thunder are you gassing about?" cried Ainley blusteringly.

About Jarlock and a certain promissory note which he paid, a note which bore your name and his. Your signature was quite genuine. Jarlock's well, Jarlock denied it, and you owned that

you

"He told?" said Ainley. The cur told?" "Yes, he told me in confidence, after he had heard of Stane's denial of the charge for which he was imprisoned. You see he believed in Stane, as I did myself"

"And you would make me the scapegoat for Stane's crime." Ainley laughed harshly. "I will see you hung first," he cried. "I

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He broke off abruptly as a sound of yelping dogs sounded from the wood, and stared into the darkness. Anderton rose from his seat.

"I expect that will be Jean Bènard," he said quietly.

Jean Benard? Who is Jean Bènard?" cried Ainley.

"He is the man who Stane and I left to bring Chigmok along."

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Chigmok!

Yes, you see, Ainley, Chigmok was not dead as you meant him to be. He was only winged, and he was able to tell his story which was a much more interesting story than yours, and as I beg leave to think, a much more truthful one."

Ainley did not reply. He stood staring into the darkness with wild eyes. The glow of the fire revealed a terrible look on his face the look of a man who in a single moment has seen his life go suddenly to pieces. He stood there dumb, his face working painfully, and then, as the dog-team broke into the circle of the firelight, he fell back into his seat by the fire in utter collapse, his face hidden in his hands.

W

CHAPTER XXIV

THE TRAIL TO PARADISE

HEN Ainley lifted a white, tortured face, it was to find the man whom he had used as a tool, and whom, having used, he had tried to kill, seated by the fire, staring at him with his evil eyes full of hate. The others also sat watching him, all except Helen who had withdrawn to the shadow of the wood, and was walking restlessly to and fro, unable to witness further the downfall of a man whom she had known so well. For a moment there was silence, then Anderton spoke.

"Would you like to hear Chigmok's story, Ainley?

"There is no need that I should," answered Ainley with a bitter, hopeless laugh. "I can guess it fairly well."

The mounted policeman was silent for a little time, then he remarked: "The implications of his story are rather serious for you, Ainley."

"Oh, I know it, don't I?"

"Then you admit

"I admit nothing! I reserve my defence that's the proper legal thing to do, isn't it?"

"It is the wise thing, anyway," said Anderton. "The wise thing," again the bitter mirthless