rn
hadn't . . ."

"He hasn't!" Drennen grinned. "He doesn't know it yet!"

And that was all that Charlie Madden, though he pleaded and waxed
wroth, could get out of him.

Drennen, passing out, nodded pleasantly to Marc Lemarc, coming in.
Lemarc stared after him wonderingly. Drennen looked up and down the
street as though searching for some one. His eyes moved restlessly;
his agitation was so obvious that any man, seeing him, might see it,
too.

It was far too early to hope to see Ygerne. After a brief hesitation
Drennen returned thoughtfully to his dugout. His door open, his pipe
lighted only to die and grow cold, forgotten, he waited. Now and then
when a man passed as infrequently happened, Drennen looked up quickly.
He frowned each time as the man went on.

A little after nine o'clock a man did stop at his door, carrying a note
in his hand. Drennen's thoughts went swiftly to Ygerne, and a
quickened beating of his heart sent the blood throbbing through him.
But the note was from Sothern and said briefly:

"I have gone on to Lebarge. You were not mistaken. But it is nobody's
business but yours and mine. I shall expect you to come on as soon as
you are able to make the trip."

The man who had brought the message had gone on up the street. Drennen
sat and stared out through his door, across the river, his face set and
inscrutable. The eager light in his eyes was not without its anguish.
Suddenly he stood up, his gaunt form straight and rigid, his shoulders
squared, his jaw thrust out, his fist clenched.

"By Heaven!" he cried aloud, as though he were going to voice the
purpose gripping him. Then he broke off, an odd smile upon his lips.
And the smile told nothing.

CHAPTER XV

THE TALE OF LE BEAU DIABLE

His meeting with Ygerne two hours before noon cast out from his mind
all thoughts which did not have to do with her. There was a new glory
about her this morning, crowning her like an aureole. Partly was this
due to a greater care in her dress and the arranging of her
copper-brown hair; partly to the emotions which at sight of him charged
through her. She was going down to her breakfast at Joe's when he saw
her. He crossed the street to her, his face brightening like a boy's.
As he moved along at her side, having had only a fleeting, tantalising
glimpse of the grey of her eyes from under the wide brim of her hat, he
whispered:

"Do you love me, Ygerne?"

There were men on the st