"H-m-m," said McNabb, knocking the ashes from his pipe, "I guess the North has got ye, lad. An' I'm afraid it's got Jean. The lass has been rantin' about it ever since we left the railway. But—who is that? Yonder, just goin' into the post? My old eyes ain't so good in the twilight."
"Wentworth!" exclaimed Hedin, leaping to his feet. "Come on! The time has come for a showdown!"
Hedin's voice rasped harsh, and McNabb noticed that the younger man's fists were clenched as he laid a restraining hand upon his arm. "Take it easy lad," he said. "Maybe it's better we should play a waitin' game."
"Waiting game!" cried Hedin. "I've been playing a waiting game for months—and I'm through. Good God, man! Do you think my nerves are of iron? I love Jean—love her as it is possible for a man to love one woman. I have loved her for years, and I will always love her. And I've lost her. That damned cad with his airs and his graces has won her completely away. But, by God, he'll never have her! I'll show him up in his true colors——"
"An' with him out of the way, lad, ye'll then——"
"With him out of the way she'll despise me!" interrupted Hedin. "She will never marry him out of loyalty to you, when she finds out he has tried to knife you. I haven't told you all I know—when he falls, he'll fall hard! But I know what women think, and I know she'll despise me for disguising myself and spying on him."
"If ye know what women think, lad, ye're the wisest man God has yet made, an' as such I'm proud to know ye."
"It is no time to joke," answered Hedin bitterly. "That's a thing I've never been able to fathom, why you always joke in the face of a serious situation, and then turn around and raise hell over some trivial matter that don't amount to a hill of beans."
McNabb grinned. "Do I?" he asked. "Well, maybe ye're right. But listen, lad, I know ye've regard for me, an' I'm askin' as a personal favor that ye hold off a bit with your denouncement of yon Wentworth. Just play the game as ye've been playin' it. Keep on bein' Sven Larsen, the factor's clerk, heavy of wit, an' able with fool questions. Ye've a fine faculty for actin'; for all durin' supper the lass never suspected ye. Keep it up for a while; it won't be for long."
"But what's the good of it? We know as much as we'll ever know. Man, do you know what you're asking? Loving Jean as I love her, I must stand about and play the fool, while that damned thief basks in her favor under my very eyes! If there were a good reason, it would be different. But Wentworth and Orcutt can go no farther; they're done——"