a hell.

"Don't let me alarm you," he said, speaking gently. "I am Philip
Raine of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police."

It did not surprise him that she made no answer. As plainly as if
she had spoken it he had in those few swift moments read the story
in her face. His heart choked him as he waited for her lips to
move. It was a mystery to him afterward why he accepted the
situation so utterly as he stood there. He had no question to ask,
and there was no doubt in his mind. He knew that he would kill
Bram Johnson when the moment arrived.

The girl had not seemed to breathe, but now she drew in her breath
in a great gasp. He could see the sudden throb of her breast under
her hair, but the frightened light did not leave her eyes even
when he repeated the words he had spoken. Suddenly she ran to the
window, and Philip saw the grip of her hands at the sill as she
looked out. Through the gate Bram was driving his wolves. When she
faced him again, her eyes had in them the look of a creature
threatened by a whip. It amazed and startled him. As he advanced a
step she cringed back from him. It struck him then that her face
was like the face of an angel--filled with a mad horror. She
reached out her bare arms to hold him back, and a strange pleading
cry came from her lips.

The cry stopped him like a shot. He knew that she had spoken to
him. And yet he had not understood! He tore open his coat and the
sunlight fell on his bronze insignia of the Service. Its effect on
her amazed him even more than had her sudden fear of him. It