look of keen intelligence; a look which he apparently tried to veil as
his eyes met mine. That bred suspicion in me. Yet I could not mistake
the welcome with which he greeted me.

"I am gratified to see you again, monsieur." Now it was a civil
phrase, and well spoken, but it annoyed me. I could not understand his
change of look, and I dislike complexities. What was the man
concealing that he should drop his eyes before me. In spite of the
seriousness of our joint state, I felt much inclination to take time,
then and there, to box his ears, and tell him to be more forthright.
My annoyance made it easier for me to come without phrases to the meat
of the matter. I pressed him to a chair, and stood over him.

"You looked out of the window, Monsieur Starling. What did you learn?"

He glanced upward. "The Indians are excited. Am I the cause?"

"Yes, monsieur."

His glance fell. "They want me--for torture," he said, with steadiness
I could not but commend. Then he turned suddenly. "Can your
commandant protect me?"

Now this was unexpected. I had intended to lead up to this situation
gradually, and the question caught me unguarded. The prisoner was
looking me full in the face, and he read there what I had hoped to hide.

"I understand," he said.

I have been with many men when they heard their death sentence, and