After leaving Mrs. Nairn, Carroll walked toward Horsfield's residence in a thoughtful mood, because he felt it incumbent upon him to play a part he was not particularly fitted for in a somewhat delicate matter. Uncongenial as his task was, it was one that could not be left to Vane, who was even less to be trusted with the handling of such affairs; and Carroll had resolved, as he would have described it, to straighten out things.

His partner had somehow offended Evelyn, and though she was now obviously disposed to forgive him, the recollection of his supposititious iniquity might afterward rankle in her mind. Though Vane was innocent of any conduct to which she could with reason take exception, it was first of all needful to ascertain the exact nature of the charge against him. Carroll, who for several reasons had preferred not to press this question upon Evelyn, had a strong suspicion that Jessy Horsfield was at the bottom of the trouble. There was also one clue to follow—Vane had paid the rent of Celia Hartley's shack, and he wondered whether Jessy could by any means have heard of it. If she had done so, the matter would be simplified, for he had a profound distrust of her. A recent action of hers was, he thought, sufficient to justify this attitude.

He found her at home, reclining gracefully in an easy-chair in her drawing-room, and though she did not seem astonished to see him, he fancied that her expression hinted at suppressed concern.

"I heard that you had arrived alone, and I intended to make inquiries from Mrs. Nairn as soon as I thought she would be at liberty," she informed him.

Carroll had found the direct attack effective in Evelyn's case, and he determined to try it again.

"Then," he declared, "it says a good deal for your courage."

He never doubted that she possessed courage, and she displayed it now.

"So," she said calmly, "you have come as an enemy."

"Not exactly; it didn't seem worth while. Though there's no doubt you betrayed us—Vane waited for the warning you could have sent—so far as it concerns our ruined interests in the Clermont, the thing's done and can't be mended. We'll let that question go. The most important point is that if you had recalled us, as you promised, Vane would now be safe and sound."

This shot told. The girl's face became less imperturbable; there was eagerness and, he thought, a hint of fear in it.

"Then has any accident happened to him?"

"He's lying in the bush, helpless, in imminent peril of starvation."

"Go on!"

There were signs of strain clearly perceptible in the girl's voice. Carroll was brief, but he made her understand the position; then she turned upon him imperiously.

"Then why are you wasting your time here?"

"It's a reasonable question. I can't get a tug to take me back until noon to-morrow."

"Ah!" murmured Jessy. "Excuse me for a minute."

She left him astonished. He had not expected her to take him at a disadvantage, as she had done with her previous thrust, and now he did not think that she had slipped away to hide her feelings. That did not seem necessary in Jessy's case, though he believed she was more or less disturbed. She came back presently, looking calm, and sat down again.

"My brother will be here in a quarter of an hour," she informed him. "Things are rather slack, and he had half promised to take me for a drive. I have just called him up."

Carroll did not see how this bore upon the subject of their conversation, but he left her to take the lead.

"Did Mr. Vane tell you that I had promised to warn him?" she asked.

"To do him justice, he let it out before he quite realized what he was saying. I'd better own that I partly surprised him into giving me the information."

"The expedient seems a favorite one with you. I suppose no news of what has happened here can have reached him?"

"None. If it's any consolation, he has still an unshaken confidence in you," Carroll assured her with blunt bitterness.

The girl showed faint signs of confusion, but she sat silent for the next few moments. During that time it flashed upon Carroll with illuminating light that he had heard Celia Hartley say that Miss Horsfield had found her orders for millinery. This confirmed his previous suspicion that Jessy had discovered who had paid the rent of Celia's shack, and that she had with deliberate malice informed Evelyn, distorting her account so that it would tell against Vane. There were breaks in the chain of reasoning which led him to this conclusion, but he did not think that Jessy would shrink from such a course, and he determined to try a chance shot.

"Vane's inclined to be trustful, and his rash generosity has once or twice got him into trouble," he remarked, and went on as if an explanation were needed: "It's Miss Hartley's case I'm thinking about just now. I've an idea he asked you to look after her. Am I right?"

As soon as he had spoken he knew that he had hit the mark. Jessy did not openly betray herself, but there are not many people who can remain absolutely unmoved when unexpectedly asked a startling question. Besides, the man was observant, and had all his faculties strung up for the encounter. He saw one of her hands tighten on the arm of her chair and a hint of uneasiness in her eyes, and that sufficed him.

"Yes," she replied; "I recommended her to some of my friends. I understand that she is getting along satisfactorily."

Carroll felt compelled to admire her manner. He believed that she loved his comrade but had nevertheless tried to ruin him in a fit of jealous rage. She was, no doubt, now keenly regretting her success, but though he thought she deserved to suffer, she was bravely facing the trying situation. It was one that was rife with dramatic possibilities, and he was grateful to her for avoiding them.

"You are going back to-morrow," she said after a brief silence. "I suppose you will have to tell your partner—what you have discovered here—as soon as you reach him?"

Carroll had not intended to spare her, but now he felt almost compassionate, and he had one grain of comfort to offer.

"I must tell him that his shares in the Clermont have been sacrificed. I wonder if that is all you meant?"

Jessy met his inquiring gaze with something very much like an appeal, and then she spread out her hands in a manner that seemed to indicate that she threw herself upon his mercy.

"It is not all I meant," she confessed.

"Then if it's any relief to you, I'll confine myself to telling him that he has been deprived of his most valuable property. I dare say the news will hit him hard enough. He may afterward discover other facts for himself, but on the whole I shouldn't consider it likely. As I said, he's confiding and slow to suspect."

He read genuine gratitude, which he had hardly expected, in the girl's face; but he raised his hand and went on in the rather formal manner which he felt was the only safe one to assume:

"I had, perhaps, better mention that I am going to call on Miss Hartley.
After that, I shall be uncommonly thankful to start back for the bush."
He paused and concluded with a sudden trace of humor: "I'll own that I
feel more at home with the work that awaits me there."

Jessy made a little gesture which, while it might have meant anything, was somehow very expressive. Just then there were footsteps outside and the next moment Horsfield walked into the room.

"So you're back!"

"Yes," Carroll replied shortly. "Beaten at both ends—there's no use in hiding it."

Horsfield showed no sign of satisfaction, and Carroll afterward admitted that the man behaved very considerately.

"Well," he declared, "though you may be astonished to hear it, I'm sorry. Unfortunately, our interests clashed, and I naturally looked after mine. Once upon a time I thought I could have worked hand in hand with Vane, but our ideas did not coincide, and your partner is not the man to yield a point or listen to advice."

Carroll was aware that Horsfield had by means which were far from honorable deprived him of a considerable portion of his possessions. He had also betrayed his fellow shareholders in the Clermont Mine, selling their interests, doubtless for a tempting consideration, to the directors of another company. For all that, Carroll recognized that since he and Vane were beaten, as he had confessed, recriminations and reproaches would be useless as well as undignified. He preferred to face defeat calmly.

"It's the fortunes of war," he returned. "What you say about Vane is more or less correct; but, although it is not a matter of much importance now, it was impossible from the beginning that your views and his ever should agree."

Horsfield smiled.

"Too great a difference of temperament? I dare say you're right. Vane measures things by a different standard—mine's perhaps more adapted to the market-place. But where have you left him?"

"In the bush. Miss Horsfield will, no doubt, give you particulars; I've just told her the tale."

"She called me up at the office and asked me to come across at once. Will you excuse us for a few minutes?"

They went out together, and Jessy presently came back alone and looked at
Carroll in a diffident manner.

"I suppose," she began, "one could hardly expect you to think of either of us very leniently; but I must ask you to believe that I am sincerely distressed to hear of your partner's accident. It was a thing I could never have anticipated; but there are amends I can make. Every minute you can save is precious, isn't it?"

"It is."

"Then I can get you a tug. My brother tells me the Atlin is coming across from Victoria and should be here early this evening. He has gone back to the office to secure her for you, though she was fixed to go off for a lumber boom."

"Thank you," responded Carroll. "It's a very great service. She's a powerful boat."

Jessy hesitated.

"I think my brother would like to say a few words when he comes back. Can
I offer you some tea?"

"I think not," answered Carroll, smiling. "For one thing, if I sit still much longer, I shall, no doubt, go to sleep again, as I did at Nairn's; and that would be neither seemly nor convenient, if I'm to sail this evening. Besides, now that we've arranged an armistice, it might be wiser not to put too much strain on it."

"An armistice?"

"I think that describes it." Carroll's manner grew significant. "The word implies a cessation of hostilities—on certain terms."

Jessy could take a hint, and his meaning was clear. Unless she forced him to do so, he would not betray her to his comrade, who might never discover the part she had played; but he had given her a warning, which might be bluntly rendered as "Hands off." There was only one course open to her—to respect it. She had brought down the man she loved, but it was clear that he was not for her, and now that the unreasoning fury which had driven her to strike had passed, she was troubled with contrition. There was nothing left except to retire from the field, and it was better to do so gracefully. For all that, there were signs of strain in her expression as she capitulated.

"Well," she said, "I have given you proof that you have nothing to fear from me. My brother is the only man in Vancouver who could have got you that tug for this evening; I understand that the sawmill people are very much in need of the lumber she was engaged to tow."

She held out her hand and Carroll took it, though he had not expected to part from her on friendly terms.

"I owe you a good deal for that," he smiled.

His task, however, was only half completed when he left the house, and the remaining portion was the more difficult, but he meant to finish it. He preferred to take life lightly; he had trifled with it before disaster had driven him out into the wilds; but there was resolution in the man, and he could force himself to play an unpleasant part when it was needful. Fortune also favored him, as she often does those who follow the boldest course.

He had entered a busy street when he met Kitty and Celia. The latter looked thin and somewhat pale, but she was moving briskly, and her face was eager when she shook hands with him.

"We have been anxious about you," she declared; "there was no news. Is
Mr. Vane with you? How have you got on?"

"We found the spruce," answered Carroll. "It's not worth milling—a forest fire has wiped out most of it—but we struck some shingling cedar we may make something of."

"Where's Mr. Vane?"

"In the bush. I've a good deal to tell you about him; but we can't talk here. I wonder if we could find a quiet place in a restaurant, or if the park would be better."

"The park," said Kitty decidedly.

They reached it in due time, and Carroll, who had refused to say anything about Vane on the way, found the girls a seat in a grove of giant firs and sat down opposite to them. Though it was winter, the day, as is often the case near Vancouver, was pleasantly mild.

"Now," he began, "my partner is a singularly unfortunate person. In the first place, the transfer of the Clermont property, which you have no doubt heard of, means a serious loss to him, though he is not ruined yet. He talks of putting up a shingling mill, in which Drayton will be of service, and if things turn out satisfactorily you will be given an interest in it."

He added the last sentence as an experiment, and was satisfied with the result.

"Never mind our interests," cried Kitty. "What about Mr. Vane?"

For the third time since his arrival, Carroll made the strongest appeal he could to womanly pity, drawing, with a purpose, a vivid picture of his comrade's peril and suffering. Nor was he disappointed, for he saw consternation, compassion and sympathy in the girls' faces. So far, the thing had been easy, but now he hesitated, and it was with difficulty that he nerved himself for what must follow.

"He has been beaten out of his stock in the mine; he's broken down in health and in danger; but, by comparison, that doesn't count for very much with him. He has another trouble; and though I'm afraid I'm going out of the way in mentioning it, if it could be got over, it would help him to face the future and set him on his feet again."

Then he briefly recounted the story of Vane's regard for Evelyn, making the most of his sacrifice in withdrawing from the field, and again he realized that he had acted wisely. A love affair appealed to his listeners, and there was a romance in this one that heightened the effect of it.

"But Miss Chisholm can't mean to turn from him now," interrupted Celia.

Carroll looked at her meaningly.

"No; she turned from him before he sailed. She heard something about him."

His companions appeared astonished.

"She couldn't have heard anything that anybody could mind," Kitty exclaimed indignantly. "He's not that kind of man."

"It's a compliment," returned Carroll. "I think he deserves it. At the same time, he's a little rash, and now and then a man's generosity is open to misconception. In this case, I don't think one could altogether blame Miss Chisholm."

Kitty glanced at him sharply and then at Celia, who looked at first puzzled and then startled. Then the blood surged into Kitty's cheeks.

"Oh!" she gasped, as if she were breathless, "I was once afraid of something like this. You mean we're the cause of it?"

The course he followed was hateful to Carroll, but the tangle could not be straightened without having somebody's feelings hurt, and it was his comrade about whom he was most concerned.

"I believe that you understand the situation," he said quietly.

He saw the fire in Kitty's eyes and noticed that Celia's face also was flushed, but he did not think their anger was directed against him. They knew the world they lived in, and, for that matter, he could share their indignation. He resented the fact that a little thing should bring swift suspicion upon them. He was, however, not required to face any disconcerting climax. Indeed, it struck him as curious that a difficult situation in which strong emotion was stirred up could become so tamely prosaic merely because it was resolutely handled in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Well," inquired Celia, "why did you tell us this?"

"I think you both owe Vane something, and you can do him a great favor just now."

Kitty looked up at him.

"Don't ask me too much, Mr. Carroll. I'm Irish, and I feel like killing somebody."

"It's natural," responded Carroll with a sympathetic smile. "I've now and then felt much the same way; it's probably unavoidable in a world like this. However, I think you ought to call on Miss Chisholm, after I've gone, though you'd better not mention that I sent you. You can say you came for news of Vane—and add anything that you consider necessary."

The girls looked at each other, and at length, though it obviously cost her a struggle, Kitty said decidedly:

"We will have to go."

Then she faced round toward Carroll.

"If Miss Chisholm won't believe us, she'll be sorry we came!"

Carroll made her a slight inclination.

"She'll deserve it, if she's not convinced. But it might be better if you didn't approach her in the mood you're in just now."

Kitty rose, motioning to Celia, and Carroll turned back with them toward the city, feeling a certain constraint in their company and yet conscious of a strong relief. It had grown dark when he returned to Nairn's house.

"Where have ye been?" his host inquired. "I had a clerk seeking ye all round the city. I canna get ye a boat before the morn."

Carroll saw that Mrs. Nairn shared her husband's desire to learn how he had been occupied. Evelyn also was in the room, and she waited expectantly for his answer.

"There were one or two little matters that required attention and I managed to arrange them satisfactorily," he explained. "Among other things, I've got a tug, and I expect to sail in an hour or two. Miss Horsfield found me the vessel."

He noticed Evelyn's interest, and was rather pleased to see it. If she were disposed to be jealous of Jessy it could do no harm. Nairn, however, frowned.

"I'm thinking it might have been better if ye had no troubled Jessy," he commented.

"I'm sorry I can't agree with you," Carroll retorted. "The difference between this evening and noon to-morrow is a big consideration."

"Weel," replied Nairn resignedly; "I can no deny the thing, if ye look at it like that."

Carroll changed the subject; but some time later Mrs. Nairn sat down near him in the temporary absence of her husband and Evelyn.

"We will no be disturbed for two or three minutes," she said. "Ye answered Alic like a Scotsman before supper and put him off the track, though that's no so easy done."

Carroll grinned. He enjoyed an encounter with Mrs. Nairn, though she was, as a rule, more than a match for him.

"You're too complimentary," he declared. "The genuine Caledonian caution can't be acquired by outsiders; it's a gift."

"I'll no practise it now," returned the lady. "Ye're no so proud of yourself for nothing. What have ye been after?"

Carroll crossed his finger-tips and looked at her over them.

"Since you ask the question, I may say this—If Miss Chisholm has two lady visitors during the next few days, you might make sure that she sees them."

"What are their names?"

"Miss Celia Hartley, the daughter of the prospector who sent Vane off to look for the timber, and Miss Kitty Blake, who, as you have probably heard, once came down the west coast with him, in company with an elder lady and myself."

Mrs. Nairn started, then she looked thoughtful, and finally she broke into a smile of open appreciation.

"Now," she ejaculated, "I understand. I did no think it of ye. Ye're no far from a genius!"

"Thanks. I believe I succeeded better than I could have expected, and perhaps than I deserved."

They were interrupted then by Nairn, who came hastily into the room.

"There's one of the Atlin deck-hands below," he announced. "He's come on here from Horsfield's to say that the boat's ready with a full head of steam up, and the packers ye hired are waiting on the wharf."

Carroll rose and became in a moment intent and eager.

"Tell him I'll be down almost as soon as he is. You'll have to excuse me." Two minutes later he left the house, and fervent good wishes followed him from the party on the stoop. He did not stop to acknowledge them, but shortly afterward the blast of a whistle came ringing across the roofs from beside the water-front.