"It would have come out right--in the end--if the father had not
returned," said Pierre. "I must hurry, M'sieur, for it hurts me
now to talk. He came first a year ago, and revealed himself to
Jeanne. He told her everything. D'Arcambal was rich; Jeanne and I
both had money. He threatened--we bought him off. We fought to
keep the terrible thing from D'Arcambal. Our money sent him away
for a time. Then he returned. It was news of him I brought up the
river to Jeanne--from Churchill. I offered to kill him--but Jeanne
would not listen to that. But the Great God willed that I should.
I killed him to-night--over there!"
A great joy surged above the grief in Philip's heart. He could not
speak, but pressed Pierre's hand harder, and looked into his
glistening eyes.
Pierre's next words broke his silence, and wrung a low cry from
his lips.
"M'sieur, this man Thorpe--Jeanne's father--is the man whom you
know as Lord Fitzhugh Lee."
He coughed violently, and with sudden fear Philip lifted his head
so that it rested against his shoulder. After a moment he lowered
it again. His face was as white as Pierre's after that sudden fit
of coughing.
"I talked with him--alone--on the afternoon of the fight on the
rock," continued Pierre, huskily.
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