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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Guessed it," he said, shortly, thrusting out a hand and grinning broadly into Philip's face "Couldn't help from seeing, Phil. And the firing, and Thorpe, and that half-breed in there " Understanding was slowly illuminating his face. "You'll know all about them a little later, Mac," said Philip softly. "To-night we must investigate nothing very far. Miss d'Arcambal must be taken home immediately.
"It has been her place for many years. When she is not there I am lost. Life ceases. This room has been our world. To-night you are in Fort o' God; to-morrow you will see D'Arcambal House. You have heard of that, perhaps, but never of Fort o' God. That belongs to Jeanne and me, to Pierre and you. Fort o' God is the heart, the soul, the life's blood of D'Arcambal House.
"Send two of your men to investigate, Mac. I will rejoin you after I have taken Miss d'Arcambal over to Cassidy's wife." He moved away quickly with Jeanne. On a sudden rise of the wind from the south the firing came to them more distinctly. Then it died away, and ended in three or four intermittent shots.
"He was very young, and from the south. D'Arcambal was then middle-aged, but his wife was young and beautiful. Jeanne says that you saw her picture against the wall. D'Arcambal worshiped her. She was his life. You understand what happened. The man from the south the young wife they went away together." Pierre coughed. A bit of blood reddened his lips.
May God bless you for what you have done!" A hand of iron gripped his own. And then, before Philip had found words to say, the master of Fort o' God suddenly placed his arms about his shoulders and embraced him. Their shoulders touched. Their faces were close. The two men who loved Jeanne d'Arcambal above all else on earth gazed for a silent moment into each other's eyes.
One might have expected from between his bearded lips a voice as thrilling as his appearance; a rumbling voice, deep-chested, sonorous and it would have caused no surprise. It was the voice that surprised Philip more than the man. It was low, and trembling with an agitation which even strength and pride could not control. "Philip Whittemore, I am Henry d'Arcambal.
"You will rest easier this way, Pierre," he said. After a few moments Pierre spoke in a gasping whisper. "You must understand. I must be quick," he said. "We could not warn you of what Jeanne had discovered. That would have revealed her father. D'Arcambal would have known every one. Thorpe plans to dress his men like Indians. They are to attack your camp to-morrow night.
In a few words he explained that it was necessary for him to follow Jeanne and the engineer to D'Arcambal House without a moment's delay, and he directed Cassidy to take charge of camp affairs, and to send Pierre's body with a suitable escort the next day. "It isn't necessary for me to tell you what to do," he finished, "You understand." Cassidy nodded.
"Jeanne owes you an apology and an explanation, M'sieur Philip," said D'Arcambal, resting a hand upon Jeanne's head. "We are going to retire, and she will initiate you into the fold of Fort o' God." Pierre and Otille followed him from the room. For the first time in an hour Jeanne laughed frankly at Philip. "There isn't much to explain, M'sieur Philip," she said, rising from her seat.
Jeanne left her father's arms and gave her hand to Philip. "M'sieur Philip, this is my sister, Mademoiselle Couchee," she cried. Pierre's sister gave Philip her hand, and behind them D'Arcambal laughed softly in his beard again, and said: "To-morrow, in D'Arcambal House, you may call her Otille, Philip. But to-night we are in Fort o' God. Oh, Jeanne, Jeanne, what a witch you are!"
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