Far from satisfied with the situation, yet determined now to probe the
mystery to the bottom, I silently followed the black, attentive to his
slightest movement. It was a brief walk down one of the narrow streets
leading directly back from the river front, so that within less than
five minutes I was being silently shown into the small reception room
of a tasty cottage, whose picturesque front was half concealed by a
brilliant mass of trailing vines. The heavy shades being closely drawn
at the windows, the interior was in such gloom that for the moment
after my entrance from the outside glare I was unable to distinguish
one object from another. Then slowly my eyes adjusted themselves to
the change, and, taking one uncertain step forward, I came suddenly
face to face with a Capuchin priest appearing almost ghastly with his
long, pale, ascetic countenance, and ghostly gray robe sweeping to the
floor.

Startled by this unexpected apparition, and experiencing an American
borderer's dislike and distrust for his class, I made a hasty move back
toward where, with unusual carelessness, I had deposited my rifle
against the wall. Yet as I placed hand upon it I had sufficiently
recovered to laugh silently at my fears.

"Thou hast responded with much promptitude, my son," the priest said in
gentle voice, speaking the purest of French, and apparently not
choosing to notice my momentary confusion. "It is indeed an excellent
trait--one long inculcated by our Order."

"And one not unknown to mine--free rangers of the woods, sir priest," I
replied coldly, resolving not to be outdone in bluntness of speech. "I
suppose you are the 'lady' desiring speech with me; I note you come
dressed in character. And now I am here, what may the message be?"