INSPECTOR WALLACE TAKES CHARGE
That night when Inspector Wallace had heard the story of the murders on
the Ghost, he sent for Jean Marcel, to whom it was quite evident, on
reporting at the trade-house, that the relations between the former and
Gillies had recently become somewhat strained. The face of the Inspector
was noticeably red and Gillies' heavy brows contracted over eyes blazing
with wrath.
"Sit down!" said the Inspector as Marcel reported. "Now, Marcel,"
Wallace began, severely, "this case looks pretty bad for you. You go
into the bush in the fall with two partners, and the body of one is
found with a knife wound, together with the effects of the other, in the
spring."
"Yes, M'sieu!" assented Jean.
"You say Piquet killed Beaulieu and was killed by your dog when he
attacked you. All right! But suppose when you began to starve you had
killed Beaulieu and Piquet to get the remaining grub, how would that, if
it had happened, have changed the evidence at the camp?"
"De bodee of Antoine on de cache," replied Jean coolly, "proves to any
smart man dat I did not keel heem. Eef I keel heem I would geeve de
bodee to de lynx and wolverines out in de snow. Den I would say he died
of de famine, lak de Cree do, and no one could deny it."
Marcel's narrowed eyes bored into those of the Inspector. He tried to
forget that before him sat the man who had taken from him all he held
dear, this man who now had it in his power to dishonor him as well--send
him south for trial among strangers.
"Well, the Lelacs say you did hide the body. But suppose you left it on
the cache. You were safe. Why should anyone come to your camp and see
it? You were two days' travel up the Ghost from Whale River. They
surprised you while you were away hunting."
With a look of disgust but retaining his self-control, Jean answered:
"Eet was a ver' hard winter. De Cree were starve' and knew we camp up de
Ghost. Dey might come tru de bush for grub any tam. Eef I keel heem
would I wait till spring to hide him under stones, as Lelac say?"
"Um!" The face of Inspector Wallace assumed a judicial expression. "The
circumstantial evidence is against you. Of course, you have something in
your favor, but if I were on a jury I'd have to convict you," Wallace
said with an air of finality.
"One moment, Mr. Wallace," growled Gillies. "How about the previous
reputation of Marcel and the character of the whole Lelac tribe? Hasn't
that got any weight with you? I believe this boy because I've always
found him honest and straight, as his father was. We thought a lot of
his father on this coast. I don't believe the Lelacs because they always
were liars. But you've missed the real point of the whole matter."
"What do you mean? The case is clear as a bell to me, Gillies." The
Inspector colored, frowning on the stiff-necked factor.
"Why, putting the previous reputation, here, of Marcel aside, if he had
killed Beaulieu, would he have told us that Beaulieu was stabbed?
Clearly not! He would have said that Antoine died of starvation and was
not stabbed, for as soon as he heard they had not turned in the fur, he
knew he had the Lelacs in his power and could prove them thieves and
liars, and we all would have believed him. The story of the Lelacs as to
the man having been murdered would not have held water a minute after
the hearing proves them thieves.
"Furthermore, he knew they could not prove their tale by the body of
Beaulieu, either, left to rot on the shore there in the spring freshets.
There would be no evidence for a canoe from the post to find." The
Scotchman rose and pounded the slab table as he drove home his final
point.
"Why, Jean Marcel had it in his power, if he had been guilty, to have
walked out of this trouble by simply giving the Lelacs the lie. But what
did he do? He told his tale to Pere Breton, here, before he learned what
the Lelacs had said.
"He freely admitted that Beaulieu had been stabbed when he might have
denied it and got off scot free. Does that look like a guilty man?
Answer me that!" thundered Gillies to his superior officer.
The force of Gillies' argument was not lost on the unreceptive Wallace.
The stone-hard features of Marcel reflected no emotion but deep in his
heart smoldered a hatred of this Inspector of the Company, who, not
satisfied with taking Julie Breton from him, now flouted his honor as a
Marcel and a man.
"Well?" demanded Gillies, impatiently, his frank glance holding the pale
eyes of Wallace.
"Yes, what you say, Gillies, has its weight, no doubt. If he had wanted
to avoid this thing, he might have done it, when he learned that the
Lelacs had held the fur. Still, I'll think it over. It may be best to
send him 'outside' to be tried, as a warning to these people. I can't
seem to swallow that tale of the dog killing Piquet, however. Sounds
fishy to me!"
"Have you seen the dog?" demanded Gillies.
"No!"
"Well, when you see her, you won't doubt it. She's the most powerful
husky I've ever seen--weighs a hundred and forty pounds. She's got a
litter due soon."
"Oh, I'd like to take a pup or two back with me."
"Well, you'll have to see Marcel about that," chuckled Gillies. "Her
pups are worth a black fox skin. We'll have this hearing to-morrow,
then, if it's agreeable to you, Mr. Wallace. When you see the Lelacs you
may understand why we believe so strongly in Marcel."
As Wallace went out, Gillies drew Jean aside.
"I have little faith in Inspector Wallace, Jean. He would send you south
for trial if he could find sufficient reason for it."
"M'sieu Gillies, Jean Marcel will never go south to be tried by strange
men for the thing he did not do."
"What do you mean, my son? You would not make yourself an outlaw? It
would be better to go."
"I shall not go, M'sieu." And Colin Gillies believed in his heart that
Marcel spoke the truth.