"I didn't find out. Till two minutes ago I thought you were in Fort La Roche."
"La Roche!" she echoed with astonishment. "Why there?"
"According to Black Ferguson's plan as I read it."
Desirée looked searchingly at the chief trader for a half-minute.
"What do you know?" was her suspicious question, barbed with a slight resentment of his curt words.
"I know, first, that Black Ferguson was informed by Gaspard Follet of your favoring Glyndon; second, that the clerk was approached through Follet, and bribed to join the Nor'west ranks with his wife; third, that the foregoing was but a design of Black Ferguson's to get you beyond the stockades of Oxford House and in a place where he could lay hands on you."
"But he can't," protested Desirée. "I am—you see, I was married."
"Can't!" Dunvegan exploded. The tone of the one word was eloquent conviction. He added darkly: "It is well that I have come in time."
"Ah! no," she cried, the fear for his safety, momentarily forgotten, returning. "You must leave instantly. I will lead you down in silence. Come!"
Her hand was throbbing on his arm, her hot breath beating up against his cheeks. Bruce freed himself, fighting to keep his feelings in check.