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“They think”–hesitated Kane, “that–I–was rough in my treatment of that woman and maliciously cut off her hair. This attack was revenge–or”–he hesitated still more, as he remembered Dr. Sparlow’s indication of the woman’s feeling–“or that bully’s idea of revenge.”

“I see,” nodded Allen, opening his small sympathetic eyes on Kane with an exasperating air of secrecy–“just jealousy.”

Kane reddened in sheer hopelessness of explanation. “No; it was earning his wages, as he thought.”

“Never ye mind, pard,” said Allen confidentially. “I’ll set ’em both right. Ye see, this sorter gives me a show to call at that thar restaurant and give HIM back his six-shooter, and set her on the right trail for you. Why, Lordy! I was here when you was fixin’ her–I’m testimony o’ the way you did it–and she’ll remember me. I’ll sorter waltz round thar this afternoon. But I reckon I won’t be keepin’ YOU from your work any longer. And look yar!–I say, pard!–this is seein’ life in ‘Frisco–ain’t it? Gosh! I’ve had more high times in this very shop in two days, than I’ve had in two years of St. Jo. So long, Mr. Kane!” He waved his hand, lounged slowly out of the shop, gave a parting glance up the street, passed the window, and was gone.

The next day being a half-holiday for Kane, he did not reach the shop until afternoon. “Your mining friend Allen has been here,” said Doctor Sparlow. “I took the liberty of introducing myself, and induced him to let me carefully examine him. He was a little shy, and I am sorry for it, as I fear he has some serious organic trouble with his heart and ought to have a more thorough examination.” Seeing Kane’s unaffected concern, he added, “You might influence him to do so. He’s a good fellow and ought to take some care of himself. By the way, he told me to tell you that he’d seen Madame le Blanc and made it all right about you. He seems to be quite infatuated with the woman.”

“I’m sorry he ever saw her,” said Kane bitterly.

“Well, his seeing her seems to have saved the shop from being smashed up, and you from getting a punched head,” returned the Doctor with a laugh. “He’s no fool–yet it’s a freak of human nature that a simple hayseed like that–a man who’s lived in the backwoods all his life, is likely to be the first to tumble before a pot of French rouge like her.”

Indeed, in a couple of weeks, there was no further doubt of Mr. Reuben Allen’s infatuation. He dropped into the shop frequently on his way to and from the restaurant, where he now regularly took his meals; he spent his evenings in gambling in its private room. Yet Kane was by no means sure that he was losing his money there unfairly, or that he was used as a pigeon by the proprietress and her friends. The bully O’Ryan was turned away; Sparlow grimly suggested that Allen had simply taken his place, but Kane ingeniously retorted that the Doctor was only piqued because Allen had evaded his professional treatment. Certainly the patient had never consented to another examination, although he repeatedly and gravely bought medicines, and was a generous customer. Once or twice Kane thought it his duty to caution Allen against his new friends and enlighten him as to Madame le Blanc’s reputation, but his suggestions were received with a good-humored submission that was either the effect of unbelief or of perfect resignation to the fact, and he desisted. One morning Dr. Sparlow said cheerfully:–

“Would you like to hear the last thing about your friend and the Frenchwoman? The boys can’t account for her singling out a fellow like that for her friend, so they say that the night that she cut herself at the fete and dropped in here for assistance, she found nobody here but Allen–a chance customer! That it was HE who cut off her hair and bound up her wounds in that sincere fashion, and she believed he had saved her life.” The Doctor grinned maliciously as he added: “And as that’s the way history is written you see your reputation is safe.”