“I am, M’sieur,” replied Jean in the same quiet voice.  “Why I am glad I will leave to your imagination.  Unless I still had faith in you and was sure of your great love for our Josephine, I would have lied to you.  You were told that you would meet with strange things at Adare House.  You gave your oath that you would make no effort to discover the secret which is guarded here.  And this early, the first night, you threaten me at the end of a pistol!”

Like fire Jean’s eyes were burning now.  He gripped the edges of the table with his thin fingers, and his voice came with a sudden hissing fury.

“By the great God in Heaven, M’sieur, are you accusing me of turning traitor to the Master and to her, to our Josephine, whom I have watched and guarded and prayed for since the day she first opened her eyes to the world?  Do you accuse me of that—­I, Jean Jacques Croisset, who would die a thousand deaths by torture that she might be freed from her own suffering?”

He leaned over the table as if about to spring.  And then, slowly, his fingers relaxed, the fire died out of his eyes, and he sank back in his chair.  In the face of the half-breed’s outburst Philip had remained speechless.  Now he spoke: 

“Call it threatening, if you like.  I do not intend to break my word to Josephine.  I demand no answer to questions which may concern her, for that is my promise.  But between you and me there are certain things which must be explained.  I concede that I was mistaken in believing that it was you with whom I fought in the forest.  But it was you who looked through my window earlier in the night, with a pistol in your hand.  You would have killed me if I had not turned.”

Genuine surprise shot into Jean’s face.

“I have not been near your window, M’sieur.  Until I returned with M’sieur Adare I was waiting up the river, several miles from here.  Since then I have not left the house.  Josephine and her father can tell you this, if you need proof.”

“Your words are impossible!” exclaimed Philip.  “I could not have been mistaken.  It was you.”

“Will you believe Josephine, M’sieur?  She will tell you that I could not have been at the window.”

“If it was not you—­who was it?”

“It must have been the man who shot at you,” replied Jean.

“And you know who that man is, and yet refuse to tell me in order that he may have another opportunity of finishing what he failed to do to-night.  The most I can do is to inform John Adare.”

“You will not do that,” said Jean confidently.  Again he showed excitement.  “Do you know what it would mean?” he demanded.

“Trouble for you,” volunteered Philip,

“And ruin for Josephine and every soul in the House of Adare!” added Croisset swiftly.  “As soon as Adare could lace his moccasins he would take up that trail out there.  He would come to the end of it, and then—­mon Dieu!—­in that hour the world would smash about his ears!”