They drew him to the table, but he played listlessly. His eyes shifted
ever to the door. Luck was against him. Finally he pushed over a silver
piece, and said: "The last. My money is all gone. 'Bien!'" He lost
that too.
Just then the door opened, and a ranchman from Purple Hill entered. He
looked carelessly round, and then said loudly:
"Say, Joe, so you've buried Blanche, have you? Poor old girl!"
There was a heavy silence. No one replied. Jacques started to his feet,
gazed around searchingly, painfully, and presently gave a great gasp.
His hands made a chafing motion in the air, and then blood showed on his
lips and chin. He drew a handkerchief from his breast.
"Pardon! . . . Pardon!" he faintly cried in apology, and put it to
his mouth.
Then he fell backwards in the arms of Soldier Joe, who wiped a moisture
from the lifeless cheek as he laid the body on a bed.
In a corner of the stained handkerchief they found the word,
Blanche.