times the size of the state of Ohio. And Kedsty was the man who
had performed this duty as only one other man had ever succeeded
in doing it.

Yet Kedsty, of the five about Kent, was most disturbed. His face
was ash-gray. A number of times Kent had detected a broken note in
his voice. He had seen his hands grip at the arms of the chair he
sat in until the cords stood out on them as if about to burst. He
had never seen Kedsty sweat until now.

Twice the Inspector had wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He
was no longer Minisak--"The Rock"--a name given to him by the
Crees. The armor that no shaft had ever penetrated seemed to have
dropped from him. He had ceased to be Kedsty, the most dreaded
inquisitor in the service. He was nervous, and Kent could see that
he was fighting to repossess himself.

"Of course you know what this means to the Service," he said in a
hard, low voice. "It means--"

"Disgrace," nodded Kent. "I know. It means a black spot on the
otherwise bright escutcheon of N Division. But it can't be helped.
I killed John Barkley. The man you've got in the guard-house,
condemned to be hanged by the neck until he is dead, is innocent.
I understand. It won't be nice for the Service to let it be known
that a sergeant in His Majesty's Royal Mounted is an ordinary
murderer, but--"

"Not an ORDINARY murderer," interrupted Kedsty. "As you have
described it, the crime was deliberate--horrible and inexcusable