She stood straight and tall in the low room, her eyes flashing, her head thrown back in the assured power of command.
The Reverend Crane tried to temporize, hesitating over his words.
She cut him short.
"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.