Dan stammered.  “I—­perhaps—­I—­What has gone wrong, Chief?”

“Did you tell her the inside—­the story of his agreement with the steamboat people?”

Dan paled beneath his tan, but his eyes met Murray’s without flinching.  “I think I did—­tell her something.  I don’t quite remember.  But anything I may have said was in confi—­”

“I thought so.  I merely wished to make certain.  Well, the whole thing is in the papers.”

Appleton laid his hand upon the table to steady himself.

“Then it—­didn’t come from her.  She wouldn’t—­”

“Gordon has spread the story broadcast.  It couldn’t have come from any other source; it couldn’t have reached him in any other way, for none of my boys has breathed a word.”  His voice rose despite his effort at self-control.  “Illis’s agreement was illegal,” he said, savagely; “it will probably forfeit the charter of the North Pass or land him in court.  I suppose you realize that!  I discovered his secret and assured him it was safe with me; now you peddle it to Gordon, and the whole thing is public.  Here’s the first result.”  He shook the London cablegram in Dan’s face, and his own was distorted with rage.  There was a stir in Eliza’s room which neither noticed.  Appleton wiped his face with uncertain hand; he moistened his lips to say: 

“I—­I’m terribly sorry!  But I’m sure Natalie wouldn’t spy—­I don’t remember what I told her, or how I came to know about the affair.  Doc Gray told me, I think, in the first excitement, but—­ God!  She—­wouldn’t knowingly—­”

“Gordon fired you for talking too much.  I thought you had learned your lesson, but it seems you hadn’t.  Don’t blame Miss Gerard for pumping you—­her loyalty belongs to Gordon now.  But I require loyalty, too.  Since you lack it you can go.”

O’Neil turned as Eliza’s door opened; she stood before him, pale, frightened, trembling.

“I couldn’t help hearing,” she said.  “You discharge us?”

He nodded.  “I’m sorry!  I’ve trusted my ‘boys’ so implicitly that the thought of betrayal by them never occurred to me.  I can’t have men close to me who make such mistakes as this.”

“Perhaps there was—­an excuse, or the shadow of one, at least.  When a man is in love, you know—­”

Murray wheeled upon Dan and demanded sharply: 

“What’s this?” Then in a noticeably altered tone he asked, “Do you love—­Natalie?”

“Yes.”

“Does she love you?”

“No, sir!”

O’Neil turned back to the girl, saying:  “I told Dan, when I hired him, that he would be called upon to dare much, to suffer much, and that my interests must be his.  He has disregarded them, and he must go.  That’s all.  There’s little difference between treachery and carelessness.”

“It’s—­too bad,” said the girl, faintly.  Dan stood stiff and silent, wholly dazed by the sudden collapse of his fortunes.

“I’m not ungrateful for what you’ve done, Appleton,” O’Neil went on.  “I intend to pay you well for the help you gave me.  You took a chance at the Canon and at Gordon’s Crossing.  You’ll get a check.”