e knows, he knows!" she croaked. "Tell him this time that there
is money in it, and, if he won't see me now, I'll be back in the
spring."

She went out, leaving Jean bewildered and spent with emotion, trying
to collect her scattered thoughts. Knowing that her father was
busy, she returned to the papers, and tried to read. But the words
passed in front of her eyes without meaning, and, after fifteen
minutes of this, she rose determinedly.

The knock on her father's study door elicited a growl of inquiry,
and she went in without answering. Old Angus Fitzpatrick sat bent
over his desk writing, his white beard sweeping the polished wood.
He wore large horn spectacles.

"Father," began the girl, coming straight to the point, "do you
know an old Ojibway squaw by the name of Maria?"

Neither the bulk of the man nor his stolidity could hide the
involuntary start the words gave him. He looked searchingly at his
daughter from beneath his beetling brows.

"Yes, I have seen her, I think," he replied cautiously after a
moment. "Why?"

"She came here to-day, and insisted, almost violently, on seeing
you. Butts was about to send her away when I interfered and talked
to her myself. I don't like her; she frightens me."

"You talked with her?" asked the factor hastily, his agitation
undisguised this time.

"Yes, but I couldn't learn anything definite. She has a lot of
nasty rumors in her head. Maybe they're facts, but she only spoke
in hints. She said the facts she would tell only to you."

Angus Fitzpatrick heaved an inaudible sigh of relief. The old
squaw, then, had been discreet.

"What was the subject of her conversation?" he asked, sharply.

The girl hesitated and flushed.

"Horrid hints regarding Don--Captain McTavish," she said, finally.
Then, her indignation rising once more, she went on swiftly: "Just
the sort of thing I have heard from you, from Tee-ka-mee, from
every one who has a right or privilege to mention such things. Now,
father, I have come in here to find out just what this thing is.
You can tell me in five minutes, if you will. Ah, yes, you can,"
she insisted, as the factor started to deny. "Yes, you can; old
Maria said so, and I believe her. After last summer when he was
here, and I--when I grew to be very fond of his company, you
suddenly began putting things into my mind, uncertain hints, slurring
intimations, significant gestures--all the things that can damage
a character without positively defam