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Pierre paused. “I knew a youngster once,” said Gohawk, “that–“

Pierre waved his hand. “I am not through, M’sieu’ Gohawk the talker. Years went on. Now she took care of the house of Malachi. She wore the whistle that Trevoor gave her. He kept saying to her still, ‘If ever you need me, little Norice, blow it, and I will come.’ He was droll, that M’sieu’ Trevoor, at times. Well, she did not blow, but still he used to come every year, and always brought her something. One year he brought his nephew, a young fellow of about twenty-three. She did not whistle for him either, but he kept on coming. That was the beginning of ‘Exit Malachi.’ The man was clever and bad, the girl believing and good. He was young, but he knew how to win a woman’s heart. When that is done, there is nothing more to do–she is yours for good or evil; and if a man, through a woman’s love, makes her to sin, even his mother cannot be proud of him-no. But the man married Norice, and took her away to Madison, down in Wisconsin. Malachi was left alone–Malachi and Trevoor, for Trevoor felt towards her as a father.

“Alors, sorrow come to the girl, for her husband began to play cards and to drink, and he lost much money. There was the trouble–the two together. They lived in a hotel. One day a lady missed a diamond necklace from her room. Norice had been with her the evening before. Norice come into her own room the next afternoon, and found detectives searching. In her own jewel-case, which was tucked away in the pocket of an old dress, was found the necklace. She was arrested. She said nothing–for she waited for her husband, who was out of town that day. He only come in time to see her in court next morning. She did not deny anything; she was quiet, like Malachi. The man played his part well. He had hid the necklace where he thought it would be safe, but when it was found, he let the wife take the blame–a little innocent thing. People were sorry for them both. She was sent to jail. Her father was away in the Rocky Mountains, and he did not hear; Trevoor was in Europe. The husband got a divorce, and was gone. Norice was in jail for over a year, and then she was set free, for her health went bad, and her mind was going, they thought. She did not know till she come out that she was divorced. Then she nearly died. But then Trevoor come.”

Freddy Tarlton’s hands were cold with excitement, and his fingers trembled so he could hardly light a cigar.

“Go on, go on, Pierre,” he said huskily.

“Trevoor said to her–he told me this himself–‘Why did you not whistle for me, Norice? A word would have brought me from Europe.’ ‘No one could help me, no one at all,’ she answered. Then Trevoor said, ‘I know who did it, for he has robbed me too.’ She sank in a heap on the floor. ‘I could have borne it and anything for him, if he hadn’t divorced me,’ she said. Then they cleared her name before the world. But where was the man? No one knew. At last Malachi, in the Rocky Mountains, heard of her trouble, for Norice wrote to him, but told him not to do the man any harm, if he ever found him–ah, a woman, a woman!… But Malachi met the man one day at Guidon Hill, and shot him in the street.”

“Fargo the sheriff!” roared half-a-dozen voices. “Yes; he had changed his name, had come up here, and because he was clever and spent money, and had a pull on someone,–got it at cards perhaps,–he was made sheriff.”

“In God’s name, why didn’t Malachi speak?” said Tarlton; “why didn’t he tell me this?”

“Because he and I had our own plans. The one evidence he wanted was Norice. If she would come to him in his danger, and in spite of his killing the man, good. If not, then he would die. Well, I went to find her and fetch her. I found her. There was no way to send word, so we had to come on as fast as we could. We have come just in time.”

“Do you mean to say, Pierre, that she’s here?” said Gohawk.

Pierre waved his hand emphatically. “And so we came on with a pardon.”

Every man was on his feet, every man’s tongue was loosed, and each ordered liquor for Pierre, and asked him where the girl was. Freddy Tarlton wrung his hand, and called a boy to go to his rooms and bring three bottles of wine, which he had kept for two years, to drink when he had won his first big case.

Gohawk was importunate. “Where is the girl, Pierre?” he urged.

“Such a fool as you are, Gohawk! She is with her father.”

A half-hour later, in a large sitting-room, Freddy Tarlton was making eloquent toasts over the wine. As they all stood drinking to Pierre, the door opened from the hall-way, and Malachi stood before them. At his shoulder was a face, wistful, worn, yet with a kind of happiness too; and the eyes had depths which any man might be glad to drown his heart in.

Malachi stood still, not speaking, and an awe or awkwardness fell on the group at the table.

But Norice stepped forward a little, and said: “May we come in?”

In an instant Freddy Tarlton was by her side, and had her by the hand, her and her father, drawing them over.

His ardent, admiring look gave Norice thought for many a day.

And that night Pierre made an accurate prophecy.