something furtive and sinister, in his face. His lips were greasy with
meat as he stood up, and a fear sprang to his face, so that its fat
looked sickly. But he said hoarsely, and with an attempt at being brave
--"How dare you enter my house with out knocking? What do you want?"

The half-breed waved a hand protestingly towards him. "Pardon!" he
said. "Be seated, and finish your meal. Do you know me?"

"Yes, I know you."

"Well, as I said, do not stop your meal. I have come to speak with you
very quietly about a scandal--a scandal, you understand. This is Sunday
night, a good time to talk of such things." Pierre seated himself at the
table, opposite the man.

But the man replied: "I have nothing to say to you. You are--"

The half-breed interrupted: "Yes, I know, a Pagan fattening--" here he
smiled, and looked at his thin hands--"fattening for the shambles of the
damned, as you have said from the pulpit, Reverend Ezra Badgley. But you
will permit me--a sinner as you say--to speak to you like this while you
sit down and eat. I regret to disturb you, but you will sit, eh?"

Pierre's tone was smooth and low, almost deferential, and his eyes, wide
open now, and hot with some hidden purpose, were fixed compellingly on
the man. The missionary sat, and, having recovered slightly, fumbled
with a knife and fork. A napkin was still beneath his greasy chin. He
did not take it away.

Pierre then spoke slowly: "Yes, it is a scandal concerning a sinner--and