The astounding statement of the man who sat opposite him held David speechless.  He had guessed at some mysterious relationship between St. Pierre and the criminal he was after, but not this, and Roger Audemard, with his hands unclenching and a slow humor beginning to play about his mouth, waited coolly for him to recover from his amazement.  In those moments, when his heart seemed to have stopped beating, Carrigan was staring at the other, but his mind had shot beyond him—­to the woman who was his wife.  Marie-Anne Audemard—­the wife of Black Roger!  He wanted to cry out against the possibility of such a fact, yet he sat like one struck dumb, as the monstrous truth took possession of his brain and a whirlwind of understanding swept upon him.  He was thinking quickly, and with a terrific lack of sentiment now.  Opposite him sat Black Roger, the wholesale murderer.  Marie-Anne was his wife.  Carmin Fanchet, sister of a murderer, was simply one of his kind.  And Bateese, the man-gorilla, and the Broken Man, and all the dark-skinned pack about them were of Black Roger’s breed and kind.  Love for a woman had blinded him to the facts which crowded upon him now.  Like a lamb he had fallen among wolves, and he had tried to believe in them.  No wonder Bateese and the man he had known as St. Pierre had betrayed such merriment at times!

A fighting coolness possessed him as he spoke to Black Roger.

“I will admit this is a surprise.  And yet you have cleared up a number of things very quickly.  It proves to me again that comedy is not very far removed from tragedy at times.”

“I am glad you see the humor of it, M’sieu David.”  Black Roger was smiling as pleasantly as his swollen eye would permit.  “We must not be too serious when we die.  If I were to die a-hanging, I would sing as the rope choked me, just to show the world one need not be unhappy because his life is coming to an end.”

“I suppose you understand that ultimately I am going to give you that opportunity,” said David.

Almost eagerly Black Roger leaned toward him over the table.  “You believe you are going to hang me?”

“I am sure of it.”

“And you are willing to wager the point, M’sieu David?”

“It is impossible to gamble with a condemned man.”

Black Roger chuckled, rubbing his big hands together until they made a rasping sound, and his one good eye glowed at Carrigan.

“Then I will make a wager with myself, M’sieu David.  Ma foi, I swear that before the leaves fall from the trees, you will be pleading for the friendship of Black Roger Audemard, and you will be as much in love with Carmin Fanchet as I am!  And as for Marie-Anne—­”