The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1909-01-08

meant one thing. It was the news q
last that had been three weeks com.
ing-news at last tina THE dead man
was found. Burrow, when business
brought him to the rectory, usually
went to the side door and knocked In
an almost apologetic way. Only some
thing that had startled him very much
would have made him depart so far
from his usual rule.
Rat-tat.tat! For a moment heavy
J hush of expectation hung in the room
where the man and the woman were.
Stephen heard the maid open the
front door, could hear Burrows voice.
startled and unlike its usual tones:
els the master in? I must see him
at once, II he Is. A terrible discov-
ery's been made"
Stephen leapt to his feet and, not
waiting for the servant to bring the
message, strobe out quickly into the
hall, shutting the door after him.
On the threshold of the front door
Burrow was standing. He burst out
excitedly, almost incoherently, in q
flood Of words, as the rector came
towards him:
There's terrible news, parson; I
came at once to tell you. They've
found him lying dead, shot-not sui
eide; the doctor says he couldn't pos.
sibly have fired the shot himself
half buried in drift by the Cross
Ways. It was Jim the Carrier made
the discovery; he saw the hand stick.
ing out of the snow, as though the
dead man was pointing! 1t gave him
rare turn; and then when he saw
it was Mr.. Philip Hume, missing these
three weeks"
flush, man." cried the rector.
The mans voice was raised excited
ly, and Stephen Ruthen had remem-
bered that only a wall and a closed
door divided them from Olive. His
warning was too late.
AS the exclamation left his lips q
wild cry broke from the room Ste.
phen Ruthen had just left. Olive
had heard the words! Olive knew!
With blanched face he rushed
back to the study.
Olive had left her seat by the fire;
perhaps she had risen to catch the
news the verger brought. She was
standing by his desk-by that drawer
that Stephen remembered he had
barely closed.
The drawer was more than half open
now, and Olive was standing as
though turned to stone, with look
of intense horror frozen on the white
face, one hand holding the half-rusted
weapon, her dilated eyes riveted upon
it, as though the sight of the revolver
seemed to fit in with some dream that
had haunted her delirium.
Stephen Ruthen caught his breath.
For an instant he thought that the
memory of her act had swept back
on Olive at the hearing of Burrows
news-at the sight of that weapon
that her fingers had clasped once be-
fore.
Her first words undeceived him:
the look in her face undeceived him,
as he paused aghast on the threshold.
-murdered-the man 1oved!"
she broke out, wildly.
Her eyes fastened themselves on
his face; there was suspicion in their
depths mingling with their horror.
The fierce, cleaning eyes were like
an accusation. Shaking all over, Ste.
phen Ruthen sprang forward and
snatched the revolver from her hand,
almost roughly. The action seemed
to confirm the suspicion that her face
expressed.
"And you-you-" she began.
wildly.
What other words she would have
| said died on her lips.
She swayed forward. Stephen
Ruthen caught the fainting woman as
she was falling.
| Ito Be Cor,tinued.l