But I was in no mood for heroics. "I am not doing this for France," I cried irritably. "I live to serve France, yes; but I want to serve her in my own way. Not to have this millstone tied around my neck, whether I will or no. Don't think for a moment that I do this because I wish." Cadillac removed his arm and looked at me. "Then you do it from liking for the Englishman?" I should have had the grace to laugh at this, but now it was the torch to the magazine. "Like him! No!" I shouted, with an oath. "He is bitter of tongue, and, I think, a spy. He is obnoxious to me. No, I am doing this because I am, what the Ottawas call us all,--chicken-hearted!" and sick with myself and what I had undertaken, I flung out of the door. CHAPTER VI DAME OPPORTUNITY The first thing to do was to see the Englishman. For the third time in twenty-four hours I went to the commandant's quarters. The prisoner was at the window when I entered, and again I caught his look of keen intelligence; a look which he apparently tried to veil as his eyes met mine. That bred suspicion in me. Yet I could not mistake the welcome with which he greeted me. "I am gratified to see you again, monsieur." Now it was a civil phrase, and well spoken, but it annoyed me. I could not understand his change of look, and I dislike complexities. What was the man concealing that he should drop his eyes before me. In spite of the seriousness of our joint state, I felt much inclination to take time, then and there, to box his ears, and tell him to be more forthright. My annoyance made it easier for me to come without phrases to the meat of the matter. I pressed him to a chair, and stood over him. "You looked out of the window, Monsieur Starling. What did you learn?" He glanced upward. "The Indians are excited. Am I the cause?" "Yes, monsieur." His glance fell. "They want me--for torture," he said, with steadiness I could not but commend. Then he turned suddenly. "Can your commandant protect me?" Now this was unexpected. I had intended to lead up to this situation gradually, and the question caught me unguarded. The prisoner was looking me full in the face, and he read there what I had hoped to hide. "I understand," he said. I have been with many men when they heard their death sentence, and those who take it as this man did, with spirit and knowledge, rob me of my hold on myself, so that I show emotion of which I am ashamed. I turned away. "Wait, wait, monsieur, I have not said all!" I cried. "There is still one chance for you."