I told him of André, of the Doctor's enjoyment of camp life. He did not ask me about Mr. Ewart directly, and I volunteered no information, except that we might expect a telegram from him any day. On the sixth day word came: "André has crossed the last portage; return Wednesday." He would be here in five days! My first thought was of him, not of André. O André, dear old guide and voyageur! You were only a withered leaf falling from the great Ygdrasil Tree of Empire--falling there in the wilds of the Upper Saguenay. But it is by such as you--and succeeding generations of millions of such--that the great Tree of Empire has thriven, thrives, and still keeps in abundant foliage! I knew the time had come when I must tell Cale all. XXXII "Cale, I want to talk with you." "All right, Marcia. I see you 've had something on your mind, thet 's been worryin' you, since you 've come home; better get it off. Nothin' like lettin' off a little steam when there 's too many pounds pressure on." "Cale, you _are_ a comfort." "Am I? Wal, it's 'bout time I was something ter you." "Cale, have you any idea where my mother fled to when she left her home?" "No; an' nobody else." "You said George Jackson could get no trace of her?" "Tried four months, detectives an' all; 't was n't no use. She was gone." "But did you have any idea in your own mind, I mean, as to where she might have gone?" "Wal, I can't say exactly. I _did_ think 'bout thet time, thet mebbe they 'd crossed the line inter Canady; but it ain't likely they 'd go north with the winter before 'em. Fact is, George was in such a state, I did n't think nor care much 'bout Happy, if _he_ could only keep his head level through it all. An' he did; he had grit, an' no mistake. 'T was an awful blow, Marcia." "It's my belief she came into Canada." "'Tis, is it? What makes you think thet?" he asked in genuine surprise. "Circumstantial evidence that is convincing. I believe she has been in this very house--for months too." He looked at me suspiciously. (We were in the dining room; one on each side of the table.) I saw his forehead knit; then he spoke in a low voice, but rather anxiously: "Here in this house? Ain't you got your circumstantial evidence a little mixed, Marcia?" "No; listen." I told him all, linking event to event, incident with incident till the chain was complete. I fitted his story into the Doctor's which he heard for the first time from me; I added Delia Beaseley's story, then André's, and, last, Mère Guillardeau's. I made no mention however of the marriage certificate and the Doctor's last talk with me. "Now, what do you think of it, Cale?" "I see which way you 're heading, Marcia, but--" he brought his fist down hard on his knee,--"you 're on the wrong track." "You think so?" "I know it." He spoke with loud emphasis. "You have no idea, now, who my father was, or is? Not now, after I have brought in all the evidence available; except--"