ears are quick to hear, m'sieu. When you were sick, and
your mind was wandering, you told her again and again that you loved
her--and when she brought you back to life, her eyes saw more than once
the truth of what your lips had betrayed, though you tried to keep it
to yourself. Even more, m'sieu--she felt the touch of your lips on her
hair that day. She understands. She has told me everything, openly,
innocently--yet her heart thrills with that sympathy of a woman who
knows she is loved. M'sieu, if you could have seen the light in her
eyes and the glow in her cheeks as she told me these secrets. But I am
not jealous! Non! It is only because you are a brave man, and one of
honor, that I tell you all this. She would die of shame did she know I
had betrayed her confidence. Yet it is necessary that I tell you,
because if we make the big wager we must drop my Jeanne from the
gamble. Do you comprehend me, m'sieu?

"We are two men, strong men, fighting men. I--Pierre Boulain--can not
feel the shame of jealousy where a woman's heart is pure and sweet, and
where a man has fought against love with honor as you have fought. And
you, m'sieu--David Carrigan, of the Police--can not strike with your
hard man's hand that tender heart, that is like a flower, and which
this moment is beating faster than it should with the fear that some
harm is going to befall you. Is it not so, m'sieu? We will make the
wager, yes. But if you whip Bateese--and you can not do that in a
hundred years of fighting--I will not tell you why my Jeanne shot at
you behind the rock. Non, never! Yet I swear I will tell you the other.
If you win, I will tell you all I know about Roger Audemard, and that
is considerable, m'sieu. Do you agree?"

Slowly David held out a hand. St. Pierre's gripped it. The fingers of
the two men met like bands of steel.

"Tomorrow you will fight," said St. Pierre. "You will fight and be
beaten so terribly that you may always show the marks of it. I am
sorry. Such a man as you I would rather have as a brother than an
enemy. And she will never forgive me. She will always remember it. The
thought will never die out of her heart that I was a beast to let you
fight Bateese. But it is best for all. And my men? Ah! Diable, but it
will be great sport for them, m'sieu!"

His hand unclasped. He turned to the door. A moment later it closed
behind him, and David was alone. He had not spoken. He had not replied
to the engulfing truths that had f