anners
of the superior race that the idea of carrying him upward ruthlessly
had come to her.

Catherine de' Medici placed three successive sons on the throne of
France. Old Maria was less ambitious, but none the less unscrupulous,
and her methods revealed an uncanny natural knowledge of diplomacy
and statecraft. Her whole life was bound up in the achievements of
Charley Seguis, and she rarely, if ever, considered the question
of personal perquisites should her schemes result successfully.
She was content to be the background of his operations; and the
background of a picture, although it be subordinate to the main
object, rarely goes absolutely unnoticed.

The strangest part of her plan lay in the fact that as yet Seguis
was totally unaware of his parentage. In the cunning scheme she
had evolved, it was her intention to remove Donald McTavish
completely, though unostentatiously; then could come the great
revelation and the noise of conquest. Reasoning thus, she had taken
her story to Angus Fitzpatrick, anxious, hesitant, and fearful.
But in him, to her great joy, she had found an arrogant and eager,
ally. This had been during the summer. It was now the first of
March, and time was flying. The work must be completed before the
spring thaws. The loss of Tom was not the grief to her that she
made pretense it was. Her references to it this morning had a deeper
purpose. She continued the conversation, despite Seguis's tone of
annoyance.

"Tom may have been a fool," she croaked, "but you're hardly the
person to say so. Perhaps you'd have changed your song, if he'd
put that dog, McTavish, out of the way--curse his charmed life!"

Seguis laughed harshly.

"You did your best, and Tom did his; I suppose it is up to me next.
But why do you imagine I would be so glad if the captain was disposed
of? I've nothing against him."

"No? What's the matter with you? You're as soft as a rotten tree!
What were you hanging around Fort Severn for all last summer,
without a look for the Indian girls? Why were you singing love-songs
under the trees of nights? Why did you cease to eat, and carry
around a face as long as a sick fox's, eh? Ah, you are angry, and
you shift! And, yet, you ask me what you have against this McTavish!
With him out of the way, there's no reason why you shouldn't--"

"Hush, hush, mother! There are men coming. Don't talk so loud!"
Seguis moved uncomfortably. "Leave me, now. There's some truth in
what you say. I'