And Breault knew it.

He was in a trap--a trap built by himself.
That is, if Breault had guessed the truth, and he believed he had.

There was only one way out--and that meant fight.
He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket.

He did not look at Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following him.

He left the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spread out his bed, he extinguished the light.