"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 Virginia Albret did not know the meaning of the term, and all the tragic consequences it entailed, there could be but one conclusion: Galen Albret had not intended that she should know. She had purposely been left in ignorance, and a politic man would hesitate long before daring to enlighten her. The Reverend Crane, in sheer terror, became sullen. "A Free Trader is a man who trades in opposition to the Company," said he, cautiously. "What great danger is he in?" the girl persisted with her catechism. "None that I am aware of," replied Crane, suavely. "He is a very ill-balanced and excitable young man." Virginia's quick instincts recognized again the same barrier which, with the people, with Wishkobun, with her father, had shut her so effectively from the truth. Her power of femininity and position had to give way before the man's fear for himself and of Galen Albret's unexpressed wish. She asked a few more questions, received a few more evasive replies, and left the little clergyman to recover as best he might from a very trying evening. Out in the night the girl hesitated in two minds as to what to do next. She was excited, and resolved to finish the affair, but she could not bring her courage to the point of questioning her father. That the stranger was in antagonism to the Company, that he believed himself to be in danger on that account, that he wanted succor, she saw clearly enough. But the whole affair was vague, disquieting. She wanted to see it plainly, know its reasons. And beneath her excitement she recognized, with a catch of the breath, that she was afraid for him. She had not time now to ask herself what it might mean; she only realized the presence of the fact.