“I guess the money sort o’ turned my head. It was all so easy an’ simple, that I encouraged the half-breed to try his luck again. The second time we was successful. Then I went into the business wholesale. I got my packers to steal too. Ever’ man I hired was a crook. I needed a good confederate so I made a proposition to La Qua an’ he accepted it. Pretty soon I had agents all over the country.
“My business grew like a snowball rollin’ down hill. It seemed like I couldn’t stop it. I laid my plans so well, it was pretty hard fer yuh fellows to catch me. I made friends with Hart an’ O’Connell again, agreein’ to take out their shipments at a reduced rate. When they accepted my offer, they didn’t know I was usin’ them as a sort o’ screen to hide my real work—to keep yuh mounties guessin’.
“In the last two years I’ve made close to two hundred thousand dollars. I was takin’ out stolen fur on such a big scale that it didn’t seem wise to sell to the free traders any longer. It was too dangerous. So I went to Seattle an’ made arrangements with Captain Reynolds to come up here with his yacht several times durin’ the year. I built the wharf an’ warehouse. I think ever’thing would be all right today if—if—”
“Yes,” encouraged the policeman. “If—”
“If it hadn’t been fer Daddy McInness,” Nichols concluded.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Corporal Rand cut in. “We’ve been suspicious of you for a long time, Murky. The death of Daddy Mclnness merely brought matters to a head. Murder is a terrible thing, Nichols.”
At mention of the word, the prospector went suddenly deathly white.
“I didn’t kill him!” he croaked. “Before God, I tell yuh—”
The sentence ended in a groan. Murky turned his head guiltily and looked into the slowly dying fire. For a long time he sat, eyes fixed sombrely on the darkening mass. It was symbolic of his own case—charred hopes and the ashes of defeat, where once had burned brightly the consuming flames of avarice.