He turned at last
to Ba'tiste, to ask tritely what he knew could not be answered:

"But how did it happen, Ba'tiste? Didn't any one see?"

The Canadian shrugged his shoulders.

"Ba'teese come back. Eet is done."

"Let's see Agnes. Maybe she can tell us something."

But the woman, her arms about Houston's neck, could only announce
hysterically that she had seen the mill burning, that she had sought
help and had failed to find it.

"Then you noticed no one around the place?"

"Only Ba'tiste."

"But that was an hour or so before."

The big French-Canadian had moved away, to stand in doleful
contemplation of the charred mass. The voice of Agnes Jierdon sank low:

"I don't know, Barry. I don't want to accuse--"

"You don't mean--"

"All I know is that I saw him leave the place and go over the hill.
Fifteen minutes later, I saw the mill burning and ran down there. All
about the place rags were burning and I could smell kerosene. That's
all I saw. But in the absence of any one else, what should a person
think?"

Houston's lips pressed tight. He turned angrily, the old grip of
suspicion upon him,--suspicion that would point in time of stress to
every one about him, suspicion engendered by black days of
hopelessness, of despair. But in an instant, it all was gone; the
picture of Ba'tiste Renaud, standing there by the embers, the honesty
of his expression of sorrow, the slump of his shoulders, while the dog,
unnoticed, nuzzled its cold nose in a limp hand, was enough to wipe it
all out forever. Houston's eyes went straight to those of Agnes
Jierdon and centered there.

"Agnes," came slowly, "I want to ask a favor. No matter what may
happen, no matter what you may think personally, there is one man who
trusts me as much as you have trusted me, and whom I shall trust in
return. That man is Ba'tiste Renaud, my friend. I hope you can find a
friend in him too; but if you can't, please, for me, never mention it."

"Why, of course not, Barry." She laughed in an embarrassed manner and
drew away from him. "I just thought I'd tell you what I knew. I
didn't have any idea you were such warm comrades. We'll forget the
whole incident."

"Thank you." Then to Ba'tiste he went, to bang him on the shoulder,
and with an effort to whirl him about. "Well!" he demanded, in an echo
of Ba'tiste's own thundering manner, "shall we stand here and weep?
Or--"

"Eet was my fault!" The French-Canadian still stared