Her face was coldly white and calm again.  But her hands trembled.  He saw her try to hide them, and pitied her.

“Then I won’t trouble you any more, for that, too, is impossible,” she said.  “May I trust you to keep in confidence what I have told you?  Perhaps I have had too much faith in you for a reason which has no reason, because you were with John Keith.  John Keith was the one other man who might have helped me.”

“And why John Keith?  How could he have helped you?”

She shook her head.  “If I told you that, I should be answering the question which is impossible.”

He saw himself facing a checkmate.  To plead, to argue with her, he knew would profit him nothing.  A new thought came to him, swift and imperative.  The end would justify the means.  He clenched his hands.  He forced into his face a look that was black and vengeful.  And he turned it on her.

“Listen to me,” he cried.  “You are playing a game, and so am I. Possibly we are selfish, both of us, looking each to his own interests with no thought of the other.  Will you help me, if I help you?”

Again he pitied her as he saw with what eager swiftness she caught at his bait.

“Yes,” she nodded, catching her breath.  “Yes, I will help you.”

His face grew blacker.  He raised his clenched hands so she could see them, and advanced a step toward her.

“Then tell me this—­would you care if something happened to Shan Tung?  Would you care if he died, if he was killed, if—­”

Her breath was coming faster and faster.  Again the red spots blazed in her cheeks.

“Would you care?” he demanded.

“No—­no—­I wouldn’t care.  He deserves to die.”

“Then tell me where Shan Tung is.  For my game is with him.  And I believe it is a bigger game than your game, for it is a game of life and death.  That is why I am interested in your affair.  It is because I am selfish, because I have my own score to settle, and because you can help me.  I shall ask you no more questions about yourself.  And I shall keep your secret and help you with McDowell if you will keep mine and help me.  First, where is Shan Tung?”

She hesitated for barely an instant.  “He has gone out of town.  He will be away for ten days.”

“But he bought no ticket; no one saw him leave by train.”

“No, he walked up the river.  An auto was waiting for him.  He will pass through tonight on the eastbound train on his way to Winnipeg.”

“Will you tell me why he is going to Winnipeg?”

“No, I cannot.”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “It is scarcely necessary to ask.  I can guess.  It is to see your brother.”

Again he knew he had struck home.

And yet she said, “No, it is not to see my brother.”

He held out his hand to her.  “Miss Kirkstone, I am going to keep my promise.  I am going to help you with McDowell.  Of course I demand my price.  Will you swear on your word of honor to let me know the moment Shan Tung returns?”