ht them simply to tell you another thing. I am
sorry for her. I think, M'sieu Carrigan, you will find as many tears in
the basket as anything else, for her heart is crushed and sick because
of the humiliation she brought upon herself this morning."

He was twisting his big, rough hands, and David's own heart went sick
as he saw the furrowed lines that had deepened in the other's face.
Black Roger did not look at him as he went on.

"Of course, she told me. She tells me everything. And if she knew I was
telling you this, I think she would kill herself. But I want you to
understand. She is not what you might think she is. That kiss came from
the lips of the best woman God ever made, M'sieu Carrigan!"

David, with the blood in him running like fire, heard himself
answering, "I know it. She was excited, glad you had not stained your
hands with my life--"

This time Audemard smiled, but it was the smile of a man ten years
older than he had appeared yesterday. "Don't try to answer, m'sieu. I
only want you to know she is as pure as the stars. It was unfortunate,
but to follow the impulse of one's heart can not be a sin. Everything
has been unfortunate since you came. But I blame no one, except--"

"Carmin Fanchet?"

Audemard nodded. "Yes. I have sent her away. Marie-Anne is in the cabin
on the raft now. But even Carmin I can not blame very greatly, m'sieu,
for it is impossible to hold anything against one you love. Tell me if
I am right? You must know. You love my Marie-Anne. Do you hold anything
against her?"

"It is unfair," protested David. "She is your wife, Audemard, is it
possible you don't love her?"

"Yes, I love her."

"And Carmin Fanchet?"

"I love her, too. They are so different. Yet I love them both. Is it
not possible for a big heart like mine to do that, m'sieu?"

With almost a snort David rose to his feet and stared through one of
the windows into the darkness of the river. "Black Roger," he said
without turning his head, "the evidence at Headquarters condemns you as
one of the blackest-hearted murderers that ever lived. But that crime,
to me, is less atrocious than the one you are committing against your
own wife. I am not ashamed to confess I love her, because to deny it
would be a lie. I love her so much that I would sacrifice myself--soul
and body--if that sacrifice could give you back to her, clean and
undefiled and with your hand unstained by the crime for which you must
hang!"

He did not