I came to La Chance.

I watched her, though; I couldn't help it. There were times when I could
have sworn her soul matched her body and she was honest all through; and
times when a devil rose up in me and bade me doubt her; till between
work and worry I was no nearer finding out the kind she really was than
to discovering the man she had meant to speak to in the dark the night
she blundered on me. Yet I had some sort of a clue there, if it were not
much of one. Dunn and Collins, our two slackers who had been kicked out
of Yale to land in our bunk house, evidently had some game on. Dunn I
was not much bothered about: he was just a plain good-for-nothing, with
a perennial chuckle. But Collins was a different story. Tall, pale,
long-eyelashed, his _blase_ young face barely veiled a mind that was an
encyclopaedia of sin,--or I was much mistaken. And he and Dunn had
suddenly ceased to raise Hades in the bunk house every night and
developed a taste for going to bed with the hens. At least, the snoring
bunk house thought so. If they went abroad instead on whatever they were
up to, I never caught them at it; but I did catch them watching _me_,
like lynxes, whenever they were off shift. I never saw either of them
speak to Miss Brown, but I got a good growing idea it was just Collins
she had meant to interview the night she spoke to me: and it fitted in
well enough with my doubts about her and Dudley's gold, for I would have
put no gold stealing past Collins. As for Paulette Brown herself, I
could see no earthly sense in Marcia's silly statement that "she was
afraid for her life--or Dudley's." She was afraid _of_ Dudley, I could
see that; for she shrank from him quite often. But on the other hand, I
saw her follow him into his office one night, when he was fit for no
girl to tackle, and try to get him to listen to something. From outside
I heard her beg him to "please listen and try to understand"--and I made
her a sign from the doorway to come away before he flew at her. I asked
her if there were anything I could do, and she said no; it was only
something she wanted to tell Dudley. But suddenly she looked at me with
those clear eyes of hers. "You're very--good to me," she said rather
piteously.

I shook my head, and that minute I believed in her utterly. But the next
night I had a jar. I was starting for Caraquet the morning after, with
the gold Dudley had in his office, so I was late in the stable, putting
washers on my light