never seemed to be giving more than half his attention, for might not some one else approach if he lost himself in order to listen to any one voice? He had covered half the length of the room with that soundless step before she heard, and rose with a glad cry: "Pierre!"
Meeting that calm blue eye, she checked herself mightily.
"A hard ride?" she asked.
"Nothing much."
He took the rock nearest the fire and then raised a glance of inquiry.
"I got cold," she said, "and rolled it over."
He considered her and then the rock, not with suspicion, but as if he held the matter in abeyance for further consideration; a hunted man and a hunter must keep an eye for little things, must carry an armed hand and an armed heart even among friends. As for Jacqueline, her color had risen, and she leaned hurriedly over a pan in which meat was frying.
"Any results?" she asked.
"Some."
She waited, knowing that the story would come at length.
He added after a moment: "Strange how careless some people get to be."
"Yes?" she queried.
"Yes."
Another pause, during which he casually drummed his fingers on his knee. She saw that he must receive more encouragement before he would tell, and
