"Good-evening," he said, in his polished courtly manner. "I must
apologize for having kept you waiting so long. Pray come into my study.
I fear Julie was somewhat brusque and rude to you. She is a good soul,
though. Please be seated, gentlemen."

"M. _la cooré_," said Webster, struggling hard with his one French word,
and breaking down lamentably.

"I can speak English," said the priest, "if that will help you."

"Oh, yes," replied Webster, drawing a deep sigh of relief; "thank Heaven
for that."

M. le curé smiled benignly.

"Well, sir," went on the lawyer, "I've come to ask you whether you knew a
family called McAllister, supposed to be living in these parts."

"McAllister! Why, of course I do. I have known them for years."

"Oh, my good sir, you have relieved my mind of a heavy burden. For the
last three weeks my clerk and I have been searching every churchyard
round about here for the name, and have hitherto failed to find it.
To-night the idea entered my head that you might know."

"My head, if you please," murmured young Brown _sotto voce_.

"I shall be most happy to be of any service to you," said M. Bois-le-Duc.
"Madame McAllister, with her son Noël, lives about three miles down the
road. You cannot mistake the cottage. It is a plain white one with a