doing it. It must require a great deal of skill. I know I should never
have the nerve for it. I should kill my man every time he didn't kill
me. But they hardly ever do."

"How can you say that? Wasn't Monsieur de Cretteville killed? And
Monsieur Lalanne?"

"That makes two cases. I implied that it happens sometimes--generally by
inadvertence. But it isn't likely to do so in this instance--at least
not to George. He's an excellent shot--and I believe it was to be
pistols."

"Then it's true! Oh, my God, I know I shall lose him!"

Mrs. Eveleth flung her cane to the floor and dropped into a seat,
leaning on the table and covering her face with her hands. For a minute
she moaned harshly, but when she looked up her eyes were tearless.

"And this is my reward," she cried, "for the kindness I've shown you!
After all, you are nothing but a wanton."

Diane kept her self-control, but she grew pale.

"That's odd," was all she permitted herself to say, delicately flicking
the crumbs from her fingertips; "because it was to prove the contrary
that George called Monsieur de Bienville out."

"Bienville! You've stooped to _him?_"

"Did I say so?" Diane asked, with a sudden significant lifting of the