about Black Roger Audemard?"

St. Pierre's eyes did not for an instant leave Carrigan's face. Slowly
a change came into them; the smile faded, the blue went out, and up
from behind seemed to come another pair of eyes that were hard as steel
and cold as ice. Yet they were not eyes that threatened, nor eyes that
betrayed excitement or passion. And St. Pierre's voice, when he spoke,
lacked the deep and vibrant note that had been in it. It was as if he
had placed upon it the force of a mighty will, chaining it back, just
as something hidden and terrible lay chained behind his eyes.

"Why play like little children, M'sieu Carrigan?" he asked. "Why not
come out squarely, honestly, like men? I know what has happened. Mon
Dieu, it was bad! You were almost killed, and you heard that poor
wreck, Andre, call for Roger Audemard. My Jeanne has told you about
that--how I found him in the forest with his broken mind and body. And
about my Jeanne--" St. Pierre's fists grew into knotted lumps on the
table. "Non, I will die--I will kill you--before I will tell you why
she shot at you behind the rock! We are men, both of us. We are not
afraid. And you--in my place--what would YOU do, m'sieu?"

In the moment's silence each man looked steadily at the other.

"I would--fight," said David slowly. "If it was for her, I am pretty
sure I would fight."

He believed that he was drawing the net in now, that it would catch St.
Pierre. He leaned a little farther over the table.

"And I, too, must fight," he added. "You know our law, St. Pierre. We
don't go back without our man--unless we happen to die. And I would be
stupid if I did not understand the situation here. It would be quite
easy for you to get rid of me. But I don't believe you are a murderer,
even if your Jeanne tried to be." A flicker of a smile crossed his
lips. "And Marie-Anne--I beg pardon!--your wife--"

St. Pierre interrupted him. "It will please me to have you call her
Marie-Anne. And it will please her also, m'sieu. Dieu, if we only had
eyes that could see what is in a woman's heart! Life is funny, m'sieu.
It is a great joke, I swear it on my soul!"

He shrugged his shoulders, smiling again straight into David's eyes.
"See what has happened! You set out for a murderer. My Jeanne makes a
great mistake and shoots you. Then she pities you, saves your life,
brings you here, and--ma foi! it is true--learns to care for you more
than she should! But that does not make me want to