"Who started this affair, anyway?" asked Wallace. "The Lelacs, under a cloud here, couldn't have dared to."
Gillies turned on his chief.
"What do we care who started it? Haven't they tried to ruin Marcel? I ordered him to keep away from them, but didn't he have sufficient cause to start—anything?"
"The Crees say the Lelacs got drunk on sugar-beer and were waiting for Jean to get back from down river," broke in McCain, fearing a row between Gillies and the Inspector. "John Kovik, the Husky, saw them rush him, and John got there in time to throw his seal-spear at young Lelac, after he had stabbed Marcel from behind."
"Oh, that explains it; Marcel was defending himself," said the ruffled Inspector.
"Yes, and you will notice, Mr. Wallace," rasped Gillies, "that Marcel fought them with his hands, until he was cut, one man against three. If he had used his knife on the old man, he wouldn't have been hurt. Does that prove what we've told you about him?"
It was at this point that Julie Breton and her brother, late in hearing the news, reached Jules carrying his burden, whose bandages were now reddening with blood.
"Oh, Jules, is he badly hurt?" cried the girl, peering in the dusk at the ashen face of Marcel. Then she noticed the bandages, and putting her hands to her face, moaned: "Jean Marcel, what have they done to you; what have they done to you?"
"Eet bleed hard, Ma'm'selle," Jules said softly, "but eet ees onlee een de shouldair. Don' cry, Ma'm'selle Julie!"
Supporting the sobbing girl, Père Breton ordered: