"There can nothing injure me here, Monsieur, not with Cassion traveling to the Illinois. No doubt he will leave behind him those who will observe my movements--that cannot harm." "It is Hugo Chevet, I fear." "Chevet! my uncle--I do not understand." "No, for he is your uncle, and you know him only in such relationship. He may have been to you kind and indulgent. I do not ask. But to those who meet him in the world he is a big, cruel, savage brute, who would sacrifice even you, if you stood in his way. And now if you fail to marry Cassion, you will so stand. He is the one who will guard you, by choice of the Commissaire, and orders of La Barre, and he will do his part well." "I can remain with the sisters." "Not in opposition to the Governor; they would never dare antagonize him; tomorrow you will return with Chevet." I drew a quick breath, my eyes on his face. "How can you know all this, Monsieur? Why should my uncle sacrifice me?" "No matter how I know. Some of it has been your own confession, coupled with my knowledge of the man. Three days ago I learned of his debt to Cassion, and that the latter had him in his claws, and at his mercy. Today I had evidence of what that debt means." "Today!" "Ay! 'twas from Chevet the threat came that he would kill me if I ever met with you again." I could but stare at him, incredulous, my fingers unconsciously grasping his jacket. "He said that? Chevet?" "Ay! Chevet; the message came by mouth of the half-breed, his _voyageur_, and I choked out of him where he had left his master, yet when I got there the man had gone. If we might meet tonight the matter would be swiftly settled." He gazed out into the darkness, and I saw his hand close on the hilt of his knife. I caught his arm. "No, no Monsieur; not that. You must not seek a quarrel, for I am not afraid--truly I am not; you will listen--" There was a voice speaking in the office room behind, the closing of a door, and the scraping of a chair as someone sat down. My words ceased, and we stood silent in the shadow, my grasp still on De Artigny's arm. CHAPTER V THE ORDER OF LA BARRE I did not recognize the voice speaking--a husky voice, the words indistinct, yet withal forceful--nor do I know what it was he said. But when the other answered, tapping on the desk with some instrument, I knew the second speaker to be La Barre, and leaned back just far enough to gain glimpse through the opening in the drapery. He sat at the desk, his back toward us, while his companion, a red-faced, heavily-moustached man, in uniform of the Rifles, stood opposite, one arm on the mantel over the fireplace. His expression was that of amused interest. "You saw the lady?" he asked. "In the receiving line for a moment only; a fair enough maid to be loved for her own sake I should say. Faith, never have I seen handsomer eyes." The other laughed.