“Then—­you judged her without absolute knowledge of fact?  You judged her—­as you hinted in your fever—­because she fought so desperately to save a brother who had gone wrong?”

“I believe she was bad.”

The long lashes fell lower, like fringes of velvet closing over the fires in her eyes.  “But you didn’t know!”

“Not absolutely,” he conceded.  “But investigations—­”

“Might have shown her to be one of the most wonderful women that ever lived, M’sieu David.  It is not hard to fight for a good brother—­but if he is bad, it may take an angel to do it!”

He stared, thoughts tangling themselves in his head.  A slow shame crept over him.  She had cornered him.  She had convicted him of unfairness to the one creature on earth his strength and his manhood were bound to protect—­a woman.  She had convicted him of judging without fact.  And in his head a voice seemed to cry out to him, “What did Carmin Fanchet ever do to you?”

He rose suddenly to his feet and stood at the back of his chair, his hands gripping the top of it.  “Maybe you are right,” he said.  “Maybe I was wrong.  I remember now that when I got Fanchet I manacled him, and she sat beside him all through that first night.  I didn’t intend to sleep, but I was tired—­and did.  I must have slept for an hour, and she roused me—­trying to get the key to the handcuffs.  She had the opportunity then—­to kill me.”

Triumph swept over the face that was looking up at him.  “Yes, she could have killed you—­while you slept.  But she didn’t.  Why?”

“I don’t know.  Perhaps she had the idea of getting the key and letting her brother do the job.  Two or three days later I am convinced she would not have hesitated.  I caught her twice trying to steal my gun.  And a third time, late at night, when we were within a day or two of Athabasca Landing, she almost got me with a club.  So I concede that she never did anything very terrible to me.  But I am sure that she tried, especially toward the last.”

“And because she failed, she hated you; and because she hated you, something was warped inside you, and you made up your mind she should be punished along with her brother.  You didn’t look at it from a woman’s viewpoint.  A woman will fight, and kill, to save one she loves.  She tried, perhaps, and failed.  The result was that her brother was killed by the Law.  Was not that enough?  Was it fair or honest to destroy her simply because you thought she might be a partner in her brother’s crimes?”

“It is rather strange,” he replied, a moment of indecision in his voice.  “McVane, the superintendent, asked me that same question.  I thought he was touched by her beauty.  And I’m sorry—­very sorry—­ that I talked about her when I was sick.  I don’t want you to think I am a bad sort—­that way.  I’m going to think about it.  I’m going over the whole thing again, from the time I manacled Fanchet, and if I find that I was wrong—­and I ever meet Carmin Fanchet again—­ I shall not be ashamed to get down on my knees and ask her pardon, Marie-Anne!”