Captain Stewart’s overstrained nerves were in no state to bear a sudden shock.  He gave a voiceless, whispering cry and he began to tremble very violently, so that his teeth chattered.  All at once he got to his feet and began to stumble away backward, but a projecting limb of the fallen tree caught him and held him fast.  It must be that the man was in a sort of frenzy.  He must have seen through a red mist just then, for when he found that he could not escape his hand went swiftly to his coat-pocket, and in his white and contorted face there was murder plain and unmistakable.

Ste. Marie was too lame to spring aside or to dash upon the man across intervening obstacles and defend himself.  He stood still in his place and waited.  And it was characteristic of him that at that moment he felt no fear, only a fine sense of exhilaration.  Open danger had no terrors for him.  It was secret peril that unnerved him, as in the matter of the poison a week before.

Captain Stewart’s hand fell away empty, and Ste. Marie laughed.

“Left it at the house?” said he.  “You seem to have no luck, Stewart.  First the cat drinks the poison, and then you leave your pistol at home.  Dear, dear, I’m afraid you’re careless.”

Captain Stewart stared at the younger man under his brows.  His face was gray and he was still shivering, but the sudden agony of fear, which had been, after all, only a jangle of nerves, was gone away.  He looked upon Ste. Marie’s gay and untroubled face with a dull wonder, and he began to feel a grudging admiration for the man who could face death without even turning pale.  He pulled out his watch and looked at it.

“I did not know,” he said, “that this was your hour out-of-doors.”

As a matter of fact, he had quite forgotten that the arrangement existed.  When he had first heard of it he had protested vigorously, but had been overborne by O’Hara with the plea that they owed their prisoner something for having come near to poisoning him, and Stewart did not care to have any further attention called to that matter; it had already put a severe strain upon the relations at La Lierre.

“Well,” observed Ste. Marie, “I told you you were careless.  That proves it.  Come!  Can’t we sit down for a little chat?  I haven’t seen you since I was your guest at the other address—­the town address.  It seems to have become a habit of mine—­doesn’t it?—­being your guest.”  He laughed cheerfully, but Captain Stewart continued to regard him without smiling.

“If you imagine,” said the elder man, “that this place belongs to me you are mistaken.  I came here to-day to make a visit.”

But Ste. Marie sat down at one end of the tree-trunk and shook his head.

“Oh, come, come!” said he.  “Why keep up the pretence?  You must know that I know all about the whole affair.  Why, bless you, I know it all—­even to the provisions of the will.  Did you think I stumbled in here by accident?  Well, I didn’t, though I don’t mind admitting to you that I remained by accident.”