working in his favor. During the next few
hours he would clear up the tangle, and in addition to that he would
meet Jeanne and Pierre. It was the thought of Jeanne, and not of the
surprises which he was about to explain, that stirred his blood as he
hurried back to the Fort.

It was his intention to return to Eileen and her father. But he changed
this. He would first hunt up Gregson and begin his work there. He knew
that the artist would be expecting him, and he went directly to the
cabin, escaping notice by following along the fringe of the forest.

Gregson was pacing back and forth across the cabin floor when Philip
arrived. His steps were quick and excited. His hands were thrust deep
in his trousers pockets. The butts of innumerable half-smoked
cigarettes lay scattered under his feet. He ceased his restless
movement upon his companion's interruption, and for a moment or two
gazed at Philip in blank silence.

"Well," he said, at last, "have you got anything to say?"

"Nothing," said Philip. "It's beyond me, Greggy. For Heaven's sake give
me an explanation!"

There was nothing womanish in the hard lines of Gregson's face now. He
spoke with the suggestion of a sneer.

"You knew--all the time," he said, coldly. "You knew that Miss Brokaw
and the girl whom I drew were one and the same person. What was the
object of your little sensation?"

Philip ignored his question. He stepped quickly up to Gregson and
seized him by the arm.

"It is impossible!" he cried, in a low voice. "They cannot be the same
person. That ship out there has not touched land since she left
Halifax. Until she hove in sight off Churchill she hasn't been within
two hundred miles of a coast this side of Hudson's Strait. Miss Brokaw
is as new to this country as you. It is beyond all reason to suppose
anything else."

"Nevertheless," said Gregson, quietly, "it was Miss Brokaw whom I saw
the other day, and that is Miss Brokaw's picture."

He pointed to the sketch, and freed his arm to light another cigarette.
There was a peculiar tone of finality in his voice which warned Philip
that no amount of logic or arguing on his part would change his
friend's belief. Gregson looked at him over his lighted match.

"It was Miss Brokaw," he said again. "Perhaps it is within reason to
suppose that she came to Churchill in a balloon, dropped into town for
luncheon, and departed in a balloon, descending by some miraculous
chance aboard the ship that was brin