“Why play like little children, M’sieu Carrigan?” he asked.  “Why not come out squarely, honestly, like men?  I know what has happened.  Mon Dieu, it was bad!  You were almost killed, and you heard that poor wreck, Andre, call for Roger Audemard.  My Jeanne has told you about that—­how I found him in the forest with his broken mind and body.  And about my Jeanne—­” St. Pierre’s fists grew into knotted lumps on the table.  “Non, I will die—­I will kill you—­before I will tell you why she shot at you behind the rock!  We are men, both of us.  We are not afraid.  And you—­in my place—­what would you do, m’sieu?”

In the moment’s silence each man looked steadily at the other.

“I would—­fight,” said David slowly.  “If it was for her, I am pretty sure I would fight.”

He believed that he was drawing the net in now, that it would catch St. Pierre.  He leaned a little farther over the table.

“And I, too, must fight,” he added.  “You know our law, St. Pierre.  We don’t go back without our man—­unless we happen to die.  And I would be stupid if I did not understand the situation here.  It would be quite easy for you to get rid of me.  But I don’t believe you are a murderer, even if your Jeanne tried to be.”  A flicker of a smile crossed his lips.  “And Marie-Anne—­I beg pardon!—­your wife—­”

St. Pierre interrupted him.  “It will please me to have you call her Marie-Anne.  And it will please her also, m’sieu.  Dieu, if we only had eyes that could see what is in a woman’s heart!  Life is funny, m’sieu.  It is a great joke, I swear it on my soul!”

He shrugged his shoulders, smiling again straight into David’s eyes.  “See what has happened!  You set out for a murderer.  My Jeanne makes a great mistake and shoots you.  Then she pities you, saves your life, brings you here, and—­ma foi! it is true—­learns to care for you more than she should!  But that does not make me want to kill you.  Non, her happiness is mine.  Dead men tell no tales, m’sieu, but there are times when living men also keep tales to themselves.  And that is what you are going to do, M’sieu Carrigan.  You are going to keep to yourself the thing that happened behind the rock.  You are going to keep to yourself the mumblings of our poor mad Andre.  Never will they pass your lips.  I know.  I swear it.  I stake my life on it!” St. Pierre was talking slowly and unexcitedly.  There was an immeasurable confidence in his deep voice.  It did not imply a threat or a warning.  He was sure of himself.  And his eyes had deepened into blue again and were almost friendly.

“You would stake your life?” repeated Carrigan questioningly.  “You would do that?”