Yes--they will attack."
Philip bent low over Pierre.
"I have known of this plot for a long time, Pierre," he said,
tensely. "I know that this Thorpe, who for some reason has passed
as Lord Fitzhugh Lee, is but the agent of a more powerful force
behind him. Have you told me all, Pierre? Do you know nothing
more?"
"Nothing, M'sieur."
"Was it Thorpe who attacked you on the cliff at Churchill?"
"No, I am sure that it was not he. If the attack had not failed--
it would have meant loss--for him. I have laid it to the ruffians
who wanted to kill me--and secure Jeanne. You understand--"
"Yes, but I do not believe that was the motive for the attack,
Pierre," said Philip. "Did Thorpe go to see any one in Churchill?"
"I don't know. He was concealing himself in the forest."
A convulsive shudder ran through Pierre's body. He gave a low cry
of pain, and his hand clutched at the babiche cord which held the
locket about his neck.
"M'sieur," he whispered, quickly, "this locket--was on the little
Jeanne--when I found her in the snow. I kept it because it bears
the woman's initials. I am foolish, M'sieur. I am weak. But I
would like to have it buried with me--under the old tree--where
Jeanne's mother lies.
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