"What does this mean?" demanded Virginia, imperiously. "Who is
that man? In what danger does he stand? What does he want a rifle
for? I insist on knowing."

She stood straight and tall in the low room, her eyes flashing, her
head thrown back in the assured power of command.

The Reverend Crane tried to temporize, hesitating over his words.
She cut him short.

"That is nonsense. Everybody seems to know but myself. I am no
child. I came to consult you--my spiritual adviser--in regard to
this very case. Accidentally I overheard enough to justify me in
knowing more."

The clergyman murmured something about the Company's secrets.
Again she cut him short.

"Company's secrets! Since when has the Company confided in Andrew
Laviolette, in Wishkobun, in _you_?"

"Possibly you would better ask your father," said Crane, with some
return of dignity.

"It does not suit me to do so," replied she. "I insist that you
answer my questions. Who is this man?"

"Ned Trent, he says."