The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1909-02-05

see any one XIII him. That q tho
truth. You must believe it!''
/, 1--WE known you for . long time,
parson, and I've always known you
/ too for good man. But whoever It
was stopped me"-he spoke doubt
fully, as though the odd conviction
was not dispelled whoever It was,
he was not alone. There was
woman. And those two knew some.
| thing, were frightened Of something.
! The man who seized my wrist was
shaking all over as IL in mortal fear.
Parson," he whispered, earnestly,
"those two, man and woman, could
tell how Philip Hume died! And
there's q mans life an innocent
mans life-in the balanced"
Stephen Ruthen saw the yelled i'm
passioned appeal in the words-their
personal appeal.
"IEI cannot help you," he cried.
The situation was becoming unenil-
rable. 'You won't be convinced that
the woman in your mind was danger.
ously i'll in bed on that night; the
doctor or the nurse can prove it. I
have no more to say. You mus. look
elsewhere than at the rectory for tie
woman you profess to have met. Good
day."
Stephen turned away. lie won
dered If he could much longer endure
the horror of this terrible secret
thrust upon him, the burden of which
was weighing down his soul. With
face white and drawn he walked
Through the gate to the rectory.
In the house he went straight to
his study straight to the locked Graw-
er of his desk. He took out the le.
volver resting on the rust.stained
sheet of sermon paper, and walked
out of the rectory again.
The blind mans conviction was TN.
shaken that the woman he had spoken
of to the police had been Olive, and
her companion of that night himself;
that positive impression Stephen Ru-
then had carried away from the inter-
view; Grale's conviction remained ut
terly mistaken.
And in face of this danger that had
come from so unexpected quarter,
it was more imperative than ever
now the he must get rid of the
weapon he had taken from Olives
hand as she bent over the dead man
in the snow-that weapon that If it
were found, might fasten on Olive the
guilt of Philip Hume's death. That
necessity was urgent, paramount. He
must dispose Of that possibly fatal
evidence of her act before accident or
chance could reveal its testimony to
othe reyes than his.
Stephen Ruthen walked towards the
river. It has swollen and discolored;
great masses of half-melted snow
were being hurried down by the cur
rent. He walked the he part where
the river was said to- run deepest.
On the bank he paused and looked
carefully round. No one in sight.
Quickly he flung the revolver into
mid-stream. The brown swir!ilg
waters closed over it.
The dusk was drawing in as Ste
phen Ruthen walked slowly back to
the rectory; chill wind that hal
come with the twilight whispered
through the leaflless trees in the
desolate garden. There was fire in
his study, and as he walked up the
path to the house, from the window
set at an angle glowing pathway Of
reflected warmth and color streamed
out over the wintry garden.
Then the quivering trail Of light
that REDEEMED across the half-melted
snow was blurred and broken for a
moment, as some one in the room, in
visible to Stephen from where he
stood owing to the angle of the win
dow, passed between the fire light
and the panes, arresting his attention.
Almost without rejecting Stephen
Ruthen crossed the lawn towards the
window.
His first glance int othe room; lit
only by the freight, startled the rec
tor overwhelmingly; and instinctively
he drew back, never Withdrawing his
riveted gaze; then stood rigid and
n1otionless, holding his breath.
Ito Be continued.)