The Kamloops doctor looked at him from a distance with a sudden twitching smile--the smile of a reticent man in whom strong feeling must somehow find a physical expression.

Dixon, the young Superintendent, bent forward eagerly.

At the back of the room a group of Japanese railway workers, with their round, yellow faces and half-opened eyes stared impassively at the tall figure of the fair-haired Canadian; and through windows and doors, thrown open to the heat, shimmered lake and forest, the eternal background of Canada.
"Mr.Coroner," said Anderson, straightening himself to his full height, "the name of the man into whose death you are inquiring is not Alexander McEwen.

He came from Scotland to Manitoba in 1869.

His real name was Robert Anderson, and I--am his son." The coroner gave an involuntary "Ah!" of amazement, which was echoed, it seemed, throughout the room.
On one of the small deal tables belonging to the coffee-room, which had been pushed aside to make room for the sitting of the court, lay the newspapers of the morning--the _Vancouver Sentinel_ and the _Montreal Star_.