"Taken, too! The men become my prisoners—when I find them. You also are a captive!"
"Thank God!" Desirée cried, flushing to the temples. "Thank God!"
It was Bruce's turn for bewilderment. The ecstatic fervor of the woman's voice astounded him.
"What talk!" he exclaimed. "Prisoners don't generally rejoice. Yet this post seems the place of riddles to-night. Oddest of all to me is the fact that I have met with no opposition—except from yourself!"
He smiled, bowing courteously. Desirée smiled too, wanly and without the least approach to mirth.
"Come," she suggested. "I will show you why."
Taking the candle, she led the way across the living room, down the stairs, and through the great store which belonged to the Northwest Fur Company. Under the wondering gaze of the men they passed and entered the passage into which Bruce Dunvegan had glanced before. This passageway extended for many paces. A closed door stopped their progress at the farther end. Desirée laid her finger tips against it.
"The garrison of Fort Brondel is in there," she murmured.
"The trading room?"
"Yes."