e asked for.'

'With your wife's money?'

He drew back sharply. 'Ah! You CAN hit a man!' and there was silence
for a few minutes. Then he leaned closer to her, and his fingers
touched the gold cigarette case which lay on the arm of the squatter's
chair in which she was sitting. He went on in a changed manner.

'Poor Evelyn left her fortune to me, knowing the truth. She was a
noble-souled woman. I was not worthy of her. But unworthy as I may have
been, Bridget, I deserved better of my wife than your husband deserves
of you. At least, I did not deceive her.'

'What do you mean? Colin did not deceive me. That, at all events, is
not one of his faults towards me.'

'Has he told you, then, why he keeps on his station that insolent woman
and her yellow-haired blue-eyed boy?'

Bridget started visibly. He saw that his shaft had struck the mark. But
she answered calmly:

'I don't know what you want to imply. I thought you knew that Mrs
Hensor's husband was killed on one of Colin's expeditions, and that he
looked after her and her boy on that account.'

'Oh, yes, I've heard that story. But it seemed common gossip at
Tunumburra that there was another--less creditable--explanation.'

She turned fiercely upon him. 'You have no right to make such an
abominable accusation.'

'I only mention what I heard. I went about a good deal there in bar
saloons, and to men's gatherings. Naturally, I was interested in the
district where, by the way, McKeith does not appear to be over popular.
Of course, I attached no great importance to the gossip then. It only
made me wonder. Oddly enough, to-day when I was out with the tailing
mob, one of the men repeated it--I need not say that I stopped him. He
said he'd had it as a fact from a man who was a long time in your
husband's employ--a man called Steadbolt.'

Again the scene in front of Fig Tree Mount Hotel flashed before Lady
Bridget, and Demon Doubt rose up clothed now in more material
substance. Her voice shook as she answered, though she tried to be
loyal:

'Steadbolt was discharged from my husband's employment. He is another
of Mrs Hensor's rejected suitors. That speaks for itself.'

'Strange that Mrs Hensor should reject so many suitors without apparent
reason,' said Maule.

Bridget did not seem able to bear any more. Her head drooped upon her
hands, her shoulders heaved convulsively.

'I don't know what to do--I am alone. It's an insult to talk to me in
this way.'

'I want