The Press., 1911-12-06
THE LAST MAN. A Story of British CO
 lurnbia. By CLARISsA MAcKIE-
By cLARISsA MAcKIE-
Copyright by American Press Asso-
 citation, 1911.


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 The manager of the Great Mines Out fitting company of Victoria. British Columbia, drowned as the door of his private office was pushed softly open and the chief clerk deferentially plsced card on his desk
 Woolson scanned the card thought fully, his frown growing blaeker and 1eapr7 lines settling about his mouth. 1t last he flung back his head and shook his broad shoulders ass if pre- pairing himself for contest. His face Lacame all urbane mask as he turned to the waiting clerk.
 ''Send him in,' he said briefly.
 Again the dcor opened and closed, and a short. stout man approached ;'le managers desk.
 s'Mr. Arthur St. Claire Woolson ?" he asked suavely.
 "My name is Woolson." replied the manager curtly. The sound of his several appellations savored too strongly of that hateful period when they had bazed in black type across the front pages of English newspa- pers. Now he glanced down at the card before him and added: You are Inspector Duffy of Scotland Yard. Sit down, sir, and tell me what I can do for you.''
 The inspector sat down and pulled out large notebook from an inner pocket and consulted it nearsightedly.
 Tn the matter of Laurence Kim ball. he snapped out suddenly. His bulldog voice did not accord with his feline appearance. The contrast was startling.
 Woolson stiffened in hiu chair. ''I thought that matter was settled when kimball was convicted and impris- oned." he said indifferently.
 Inspector Duffy consulted his book again. Laurence Kimball served one year of his sentence and then escaped frGm Dartmoor prison on June 3 last. lave traced him across the Atlantic, through Canada and British Colum- bia to Victoria
 You have caught him then?" There was almost sheer i'll Woolson's voice.
 The other reddened to the roots of his pale hair, and his catty smile w;d- ened. His voice growled the deeper when he replied:
 II lost the trail. I know he arrived in Victoria July 25 because he was recognized. Since then he has dropped out of sight
 TT will instruct our superintendent to aid you in every way. Here is a card which will admit you to every depart ment of our company"
 The inspector hesitated and shot a furtive glance at the face of the man. ager. "Of course his majesty's war rant opens all doors to my knock, but I always choose the other way when it is possible =
 That is very considerate of you, inspector" said Woolson ironically. Do you know of any reason why -s11o11sd bo anyyi ling for yeu@to seek your escaped-maf?' he challenged.
 Escaped convict" corrected Duffy, with square look into Woolson's stern eyes. ''f can think of no reason except that he was your friend-and pardon me, sir, your testimony was given reluctantly. I hope you won't take offense, but I've got to have your best help, whether you are willing or not. Besides accomplishing the ends of justice. there's big reward out for Kimball's capture, and want it." He smiled greedily.
 "A reward large enough to lure you to the uttermost end of the earth, fancy" observed Woolson carelessly.
 A rueful look overspread the ruddy face of the inspector. Hardly that" he responded. "The Yukon is the limit so far as I'm concerned. My times worth something at home."
 WOolson touched a bell. "Mr. lame son will be at your service, inspector, and if you decide to go to the Yukon one of our steamers will sail at to- morrow morning. Here is a pass that will take you up the coast to your destination, whatever it may be-
 After the detective and Jameson had left the room the manager turned to the window and stared out at the wharf. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes he stood there, motionless. Then he put on his hat and went out.
 The long stream of coolies wavered back and forth across the gangplank. The tallyman yelled Justify until Wool sons drawling accents cut him short.
 "Hodgson, you may discharge the man on the end of the line. He's clumsy beggar. Send him to the pay master tonight"
 Whenever the long line struggled to It's final end the last man, tall and gaunt. a ragged cloth tied about his head and half cOncealing yellow would pause to stretch his lean and shrunken arms bare to the shoulder. He walked with stoOp from the waist, and the burdens that he bore seemed all too heavy for the Waverino gait with which he followed his companions.
 Always he was the last man to reach the gangplank with his burden for the steamers hold, and, returning, he was the last to leave the vessel. The tallyman swore at him in various and his mates grinned at his meek acceptance of the insults that were heaped upon his cowed back.
 Woolson, observing all this. clinched his strong hands on the counter. Once his mouth opened to reprimand the but it snapped shut as he observed the roly poly form of In- spector Duffy coming down the wharf.
 The detective cast sleepy glance over the men on the wharf, stared im- pudently into Hodgson's face and when that belligerent gentleman flung an angry word at him flashed open his coat and displayed his badge to the utter confusion of the tallyman.
 This betrayal of petty vanity on the part of the inspector brought a gleam to Woolson's breeding eyes. He step- ped out of the cage and approached the detective. The line of coolies was stringing off on to the wharf, and the