"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."

"I will not be put off in this way. _Who_ is he? _What_ is he?"

"He is a Free Trader," replied the Reverend Crane with the air of a
man who throws down a bomb and is afraid of the consequences. To his
astonishment the bomb did not explode.

"What is that?" she asked, simply.

The man's jaw dropped and his eyes opened in astonishment. Here was a
density of ignorance in regard to the ordinary affairs of the Post
which could by no stretch of the imagination be ascribed to chance. If