toward Churchill with the feeling that everything was working in
his favor. During the next few hours he would clear up the tangle,
and in addition to that he would meet Jeanne and Pierre. It was
the thought of Jeanne, and not of the surprises which he was about
to explain, that stirred his blood as he hurried back to the Fort.

It was his intention to return to Eileen and her father. But he
changed this. He would first hunt up Gregson and begin his work
there. He knew that the artist would be expecting him, and he went
directly to the cabin, escaping notice by following along the
fringe of the forest.

Gregson was pacing back and forth across the cabin floor when
Philip arrived. His steps were quick and excited. His hands were
thrust deep in his trousers pockets. The butts of innumerable
half-smoked cigarettes lay scattered under his feet. He ceased his
restless movement upon his companion's interruption, and for a
moment or two gazed at Philip in blank silence.

"Well," he said, at last, "have you got anything to say?"

"Nothing," said Philip. "It's beyond me, Greggy. For Heaven's sake
give me an explanation!"

There was nothing womanish in the hard lines of Gregson's face
now. He spoke with the suggestion of a sneer.

"You knew--all the time," he said, coldly. "You knew that Miss
Brokaw and the girl whom I drew were one and the same person. What
was the object of your little sensation?"