Madame there followed, and her servant shot me. The will I brought you,
M'sieu'. The will leaving the Manor of Pontiac to you!"

Fournel turned as though with sudden anger to the officers. "You come
here--you enter my house to interfere with a guest of mine, on the charge
of a drunken scoundrel like this! What is this talk of wills! The
vapourings of his drunken brain. The Seigneury of Pontiac belongs to
Monsieur Racine, and but three days since Madame here dismissed this
fellow for pilfering and other misdemeanours. As for shooting--the man
is a liar, and--"

"Ah, do you deny that I came to you?--" began Tardif.

"Constables," said Fournel, "I give this fellow in charge. Take him to
gaol, and I will appear at court against him when called upon."

Tardif's rage choked him. He tried to speak once or twice, then began to
shriek an imprecation at Fournel; but the constables clapped hands on his
mouth, and dragged him out of the room and out of the house.

Fournel saw him safely out, then returned to Madelinette. "Do not fear
for the fellow. A little gaol will do him good. I will see to it that
he gives no trouble, Madame," he said. "You may trust me."

"I do trust you, Monsieur," Madelinette answered quietly. "I pray that
you may be right, and that--" "It will all come out right," he firmly
insisted. "Will you ask for Madame Marie?" she said. Then with a
smile: "We will go happier than we came."

As she and Madame Marie passed from the house, Fournel shook