"What can I do? This is not like other
things; one had to wait; great things take time. To shoot is easy; but
to shoot is not all, as you shall see if you have a little patience. Ah,
my friend, where there is a woman, things are different. I throw a glass
in your face, we shoot, someone dies, and there it is quite plain of
reason; you play a card which was dealt just now, I call you--something,
and the swiftest finger does the trick; but in such as this, one must
wait for the sport."

It was at this point that Shon McGann entered, looked round, nodded to
all, and then came forward to the table where Pretty Pierre sat. As the
other took out his watch, Shon said firmly but quietly: "Pierre, I gave
you the lie to-day concerning me wife, and I'm here, as I said I'd be,
to stand by the word I passed then."

Pierre waved his fingers lightly towards the other, and slowly rose.
Then he said in sharp tones: "Yes, Shon McGann, you gave me the lie.
There is but one thing for that in Pipi Valley. You choked me; I would
not take that from a saint of heaven; but there was another thing to do
first. Well, I have done it; I said I would bring proofs--I have them."
He paused, and now there might have been seen a shining moisture on his
forehead, and his words came menacingly from between his teeth, while
the room became breathlessly still, save that in the silence a sleeping
dog sighed heavily: "Shon McGann," he added, "you are living with my
wife."

Twenty men drew in a sharp breath of excitement, and Shon
came a step nearer the other, and said in a strange voice:
"I--am--living--with--your--wife?"

"As I say, with my wife, Lucy Rives. Francois Rives was my name ten
years ago. We quarrelled. I left her, and I never saw her again until
to-night. You went to see her two hours ago. You did not find her. Why?
She was gone because her husband, Pierre, told her to go. You want a
proof? You shall have it. Here is the wedding-ring you gave her last
night."

He handed it over, and Shon saw inside it his own name and hers.

"My God!" he said. "Did she know? Tell me she didn't know, Pierre?"

"No, she did not know. I have truth to speak to night. I was jealous,
mad, and foolish, and I left her. My boat was found upset. They believed
I was drowned. 'Bien,' she waited until yesterday, and then she took
you--but she was my wife; she is my wife--and so you see!"

The Irishman was deadly pale.

"It's an avil heart y' had in y' then, Pretty