but now he
seemed condemned again to take up the wearing uncertainty of
inaction. The interval was not long, however. Almost immediately
the other door opened and the Factor entered.

His movements were abrupt and impatient, for with whatever grace
such a man yields to his better instincts the actual carrying out
of their conditions is a severe trial. For one thing it is a
species of emotional nakedness, invariably repugnant to the
self-contained. Ned Trent, observing this and misinterpreting its
cause, hugged the little revolver to his side with grim
satisfaction. The interview was likely to be stormy. If worst
came to worst, he was at least assured of reprisal before his own
end.

The Factor walked directly to the head of the table and his
customary arm-chair, in which he disposed himself.

"Sit down," he commanded the younger man, indicating a chair at his
elbow.

The latter warily obeyed.

Galen Albret hesitated appreciably. Then, as one would make a
plunge into cold water, quickly, in one motion, he laid on the
table something over which he held his hand.

"You are wondering why I am interviewing you again," said he. "It
is because I have become aware of certain things. When you left me
a few hours ago you dropped this." He moved his hand to one side.
The silver match-safe lay on the table.

"Yes, it is mine," agreed Ned Trent,

"On one side is carved a name."

"Yes."

"Whose?"

The Free Trader hesitated. "My father's," he said, at last.

"I thought that must be so. You will understand when I tell you
that at one time I knew him very well."

"You knew my father?" cried Ned Trent, excitedly.

"Yes. At Fort Rae, and elsewhere. But I do not remember you."

"I was brought up at Winnipeg," the other explained.

"Once," pursued Galen Albret, "I did your father a wrong,
unintentionally, but nevertheless a great wrong. For that reason
and others I am going to give you your life."

"What wrong?" demanded Ned Trent, with dawning excitement.

"I forced him from the Company."

"You!"

"Yes, I. Proof was brought me that he had won from me my young
wife. It could not be doubted. I could not kill him. Afterward
the man who deceived me confessed. He is now dead."

Ned Trent, gasping, rose slowly to his feet. One hand stole inside
his jacket and clutched the butt of the little pistol.

"You did that," he cried, hoarsely. "You tell me of it yourself?
Do you wish to know the real