Meleese loved him. He would have staked
his life on that. His blood leaped as he felt again the thrill of her
kisses when she had come to him as he lay bound and gagged beside the
trail. She had taken his head in her arms, and through the grief of her
face he had seen shining the light of a great love that had glorified it
for all time for him. She loved him! And he had let her slip away from
him, had weakly surrendered himself at a moment when everything that he
had dreamed of might have been within his grasp. With Jackpine and
Croisset in his power--
He went no further. Was it too late to do these things now? Croisset
would return. With a sort of satisfaction it occurred to him that his
actions had disarmed the Frenchman of suspicion. He believed that it
would be easy to overcome Croisset, to force him to follow in the trail
of Meleese and Jackpine. And that trail? It would probably lead to the
very stronghold of his enemies. But what of that? He loaded his pipe
again, puffing out clouds of smoke until the room was thick with it.
That trail would take him to Meleese--wherever she was. Heretofore his
enemies had come to him; now he would go to them. With Croisset in his
power, and with none of his enemies aware of his presence, everything
would be in his favor.
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