“I have done a very wicked thing. I want absolution and the holy oil before I—go away. And I want you to put it on paper for the police at Edmonton. It is for Paul—it may hurt him. It is—for Paul,” she added, clutching the missionary’s arm. “Nothing must hurt Paul.”
“Dear sister, tell me your sin, and if you wish you may tell the police yourself. He is here.”
“Here? Here?” A momentary fear leaped into her eyes, then faded out. “Ah, good! Let him come. Let him come, quick! And Paul. Quick! Quick!”
“He will come at once,” said the missionary, and hastened to bring the sergeant. At the door he met Paul. “She has asked to see the sergeant,” said Chambers.
“Wait,” said Paul, and went to her. He found her in a fever of eagerness and impatience.
“Ah—Paul—” she panted, “now I know the blessed Mother hears my prayer. Bring the man—the policeman to me—quick! I have a heavy load here,” she struck her breast, “I wish to give it to him.”
“Why not tell the missionary, Onawata?” said Paul. “You need not tell the policeman.”
“No, Paul. The policeman is best. Oh, I have prayed to get to Edmonton to tell the police. Bring him, Paul. Bring him. I am strong, and I must tell him. Go, Paul, quick.”
Without delay Paul did her bidding. And in a few minutes the three men were at her bedside.
“You have found me,” said the Indian woman, smiling triumphantly at the sergeant.