It was fall in the Yukon, and the crisp air gave a hint of the cold and snows that were soon to come. One night, Hazel Crest, owner of a cafe in Selkirk, sat in her private office going over her accounts. She was a large buxom woman of middle age. Her efforts to preserve the prettiness that once was hers, was evident by the heavy use of cosmetics. Hazel could be sharp with her words and quick with her gun if the need arose, and she looked up as someone knocked on the door of her office...