thick of all troubles. Lonely constables by remote bivouac fires could never feel quite sure that the next moment might not bring the old man stalking casually into camp to demand pot luck and ask to know how business fared.

"Constable Graves is dead," said Dexter, watching his officer's face. "Ambushed and shot from behind. I found him lying in the snow a short distance down the valley."

Devreaux drew breath with an audible sound. "Young Graves!" he muttered. "Another added to the long score." He shook his head glumly. "I've seen so many go out--fine, strong, valiant boys! And the old man goes on year after year, just getting older. Fate's a queer thing, Dexter, and so unfair!"

Who shot him?" he asked, suddenly curt and business-like.

"A stranger. Never saw him before, and he wouldn't tell his name. Trailed him to a cabin yonder, where you see the fire blazing. Arrested him and a trapper named Mudgett."

"Well?" asked the superintendent, staring sharply.

The corporal gave a hurried account of recent events, telling of the murder of his helpless prisoners, of the woman's voice in the cabin where no woman was found, of the trail of small feet discovered near the clearing and followed in a circle back to the cabin, and finally of the fire, his unexpected encounter with the maker of the footprints, and her subsequent escape and flight.

Devreaux listened without interruption to the singular recital. And, characteristically, he showed no sign of wonderment. "You say this disembodied voice--seemed to be talking over a telephone?" he inquired.

"So I thought, until I had searched for the instrument But I didn't overlook a cubic inch of space anywhere inside or outside the cabin. And I found neither wires nor telephone. And no trace of any intruder, for that matter."

"Radio?"

"No. Impossible. The equipment couldn't have been spirited away so quickly."

"Most people would advise you to consult an ear specialist," remarked the superintendent. "But I'm credulous about--well, anything at all. I've observed so many strange happenings in my time that I've learned to believe the wildest and weirdest things are possible, and I've lost all sense of amazement. What do you think about it all?""I honestly don't know what to think."
"It wouldn't surprise me if 

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