stripped and on his bed. Jean opened his eyes as he bathed the blood
from his face. He made an effort to rise, but Philip held him back.

"Not yet, Jean," he said.

Jean's glance shifted in a look of alarm toward the door.

"I must, M'sieur," he insisted. "It was the last few hundred yards that
made me dizzy. I am better now. And there is no time to lose. I must
get into my room--into other clothes!"

"We will not be interrupted," Philip assured him. "Is this your only
hurt, Jean?"

"That alone, M'sieur. It was not bad until an hour ago. Then it broke
out afresh, and made me so dizzy that with my last breath I stumbled
into your room. The saints be praised that I managed to reach you!"

Philip left him, to return in a moment with a flask. Jean had pulled
himself to a sitting posture on the side of the bed.

"Here's a drop of whisky, Jean. It will stir up your blood."

"Mon Dieu, it has been stirred up enough this night, tanike," smiled
Jean feebly. "But it may give me voice, M'sieur. Will you get me fresh
clothes? They are in my room--which is next to this on the right. I
must be prepared for Josephine or Le M'sieur before I talk."

Philip went to the door and opened it cautiously. He could hear voices
coming from the room through which he had first entered Adare House.
The hall was clear. He slipped out and moved swiftly to Jean's room.
Five minutes later he reentered his own room with an armful of Jean's
clothes. Already Croisset was something like himself. He quickly put on
the garments Philip gave him, brushed the tangles from his hair, and
called upon Philip to examine him to make sure he had left no spot of
blood on his face or neck.

"You have the time?" he asked then.

Philip looked at his watch.

"It is eight o'clock."

"And I must see Josephine--alone--before ten," said Jean quickly. "You
must arrange it, M'sieur. No one must know that I have returned until I
see her. It is important. It means--"

"What?"

"The great God alone can answer that," replied Jean in a strange voice.
"Perhaps it will mean that to-morrow, or the next day, or the day after
that M'sieur Weyman will know the secret we are keeping from him now,
and will fight shoulder to shoulder with Jean Jacques Croisset in a
fight that the wilderness will remember so long as there are tongues to
tell of it!"

There was nothing of boastfulness or of excitement in his words. They
were in the voice of a man who saw himself facing the