Jacques swooped forward and steadied it before it could overturn; but the dodging flame caught the girl’s muslin sleeve and set it ablaze in an instant.  She uttered a cry and started up with a wild idea of flinging herself into the river, but Jacques was too quick for her.  He turned and seized the burning fabric in his great hands, ripping it away from her arm and crushing out the flames with unflinching strength.

“Don’t be frightened!” he said.  “It’s all right.  I’ve got it out.”

“And what of you?” she gasped, eyes of horror on his blackened hands.

He smiled at her reassuringly.

“Well done, man!” cried Dick Culver.  “It was like you to save her life while we were thinking about it.  Are you hurt, Hilary?”

“No,” she said, with trembling lips.  “But—­but—­”

She broke off on the verge of tears, and Dick considerately transferred his attention to his friend.

“Let’s see the damage, old fellow!”

“It is nothing,” said Jacques, still faintly smiling.  “Yes, you may see it if you like, if only to prove that I speak the truth.”

He thrust out one hand and displayed a scorched and blistered palm.

“Call that nothing!” began Dick.

Fletcher suddenly pushed forward with an oath that startled them all.

“I should know that hand anywhere!” he exclaimed.  “You infernal, lying impostor!”

There was an elaborate tattoo of the American flag on the extended wrist, to which he pointed with a furious laugh.

“Deny it if you can!” he said.

Jacques looked at him gravely, without the smallest sign of agitation.

“You certainly have good reason to know that hand rather well,” he said after a moment, speaking with extreme deliberation, “considering that it has had the privilege of giving you the finest thrashing of your life.”

Fletcher turned purple.  He looked as if he were going to strike the speaker on the mouth.  But before he could raise his hand Hilary suddenly forced herself between them.

“Mr. Fletcher,” she said, her voice quivering with anger, “go instantly!  There is your boat.  And never come near us again!”

Fletcher fell back a step, but he was too furious to obey such a command.

“Do you think I am going to leave that confounded humbug to have it all his own way?” he snarled.  “I tell you—­”

But here Culver intervened.

“You shut up!” he ordered sternly.  “We’ve had too much of you already.  You had better go.”

He took Fletcher imperatively by the arm, but Jacques intervened.

“Pray let the gentleman speak, Dick!” he said.  “It will ease his feelings perhaps.”

“No!” broke in Hilary breathlessly.  “No, no!  I won’t listen!  I tell you I won’t!” facing the big man almost fiercely.  “Tell me yourself if you like!”

He looked at her closely, still with that odd half-smile upon his face.