An angry light leapt into Dupont's eyes. "You not unnerstan' my letters-
bah! You know it all right, so queeck."

The other remained silent, staring into the fire with wide, searching
eyes.

Dupont put a hand on him. "You ketch my idee queeck. We mus' have more
money from that Henderley--certainlee. It is ten years, and he t'ink it
is all right. He t'ink we come no more becos' he give five t'ousan'
dollars to us each. That was to do the t'ing, to fire the country.
Now we want another ten t'ousan' to us each, to forget we do it for him
--hein?"

Still there was no reply. Dupont went on, watching the other furtively,
for he did not like this silence. But he would not resent it till he was
sure there was good cause.

"It comes to suit us. He is over there at the Old Man Lak', where you
can get at him easy, not like in the city where he lif'. Over in the
States, he laugh mebbe, becos' he is at home, an' can buy off the law.
But here--it is Canadaw, an' they not care eef he have hunder' meellion
dollar. He know that--sure. Eef you say you not care a dam to go to
jail, so you can put him there, too, becos' you have not'ing, an' so dam
seeck of everyt'ing, he will t'ink ten t'ousan' dollar same as one cent
to Nic Dupont--ben sur!"

Lygon nodded his head, still holding his hands to the blaze. With ten
thousand dollars he could get away into--into another world somewhere,
some world where he could forget; as he forgot for a moment this
afternoon when the girl said to him, "It is never too late to mend."