# Breed of the Wolf/Chapter 20
### CHAPTER XX.

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 Wallace 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.
Jean did so quietly.
“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 body 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 wolverenes out in de snow. Den I would say he died of de famine.”
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—to 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 any one 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: “It was a ver’ hard winter. De Cree were starve’ and knew de camp up de Ghost. Dey might come tru de bush for grub any tam. So, 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. 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 inspector colored, frowning on the stiff-necked factor.
“Why, putting the previous reputation 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 proved 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 Père Breton 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, however, reflected no emotion. But in his heart smoldered a deep hatred of this inspector of the company who, not satisfied with taking Julie Breton from him, now tried to flout his honor as a Marcel and a man.
“Well?” demanded Gillies impatiently, his frank glance holding the eyes of Wallace.
“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. 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.”
“I’d like to take a pup or two back with me!”
“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 this 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? You would not make yourself an outlaw?”
“I shall not go, m’sieu.”
Colin Gillies believed in his heart that Marcel spoke the truth.