Another exciting incident was the Schofield affair. Schofield was a trusted employee of the McMillan Bros.—D. H. and W. W.—who ran a flour mill near the river bank. One morning the office was found to be all topsy-turvy. Chairs were upset and other furniture scattered around promiscuously, and a large dent in a wooden desk evidenced that a club had been used. Drops of blood left a trail in the snow to the river and on the ice. The next day and next night ice cutting machines worked overtime making holes in the ice, and grappling irons were unavailingly lowered to rescue the body. People were aghast at the awful crime and Schofield’s pretty wife was the object of everybody’s sympathy. The following day, Schofield’s remains were found—down in Minneapolis, although the waters of the Red River flowed the other way. An American customs officer at St. Vincent, on the boundary, reported a man answering Schofield’s description who had passed through on the St. Paul train the night of the awful tragedy, and that he was dressed like an ordinary working man but had forgotten to discard his white starched shirt, whose cuffs with gold sleeve links had attracted his attention as being a queer sort of a combination for a laboring man. Schofield’s rooms were searched and in them was found a collection of dyes, false moustaches, wigs, etc., with which he had disguised himself. As his accounts were all right, it was puzzling to know why he had put up such a job, until it was discovered that it was to secure a fairly good insurance which he had on his life.