it of the rock, stood several hundred
yards higher, at one side. The Castle of St. Louis, the main ornament of
the place next to the cathedral, overlooked the cliff, resting on a
series of tall buttresses ribbing the side of the precipice.

At every point along the "lion's back," or upper edge of the cliff,
where Germain was, a magnificent view greeted him. He stopped to enjoy
it. The harbour lay glimmering far below in the moonbeams, across it the
heights of Levis stretched along the weird landscape. The lighted
windows of the Lower Town, of which he could see little more than the
shimmering dark roofs, shone up obliquely. All was domed over by a
dark-blue sky in which the harvest moon rode.

He walked back from the cliff along the Rue St. Louis to the city wall,
and returned by the Rue Buade. In doing so he scanned the fortifications
with military interest, and returning, remarked the dark, low pile of
the convent of the Jesuits, and also the cathedral and the seminary
adjoining. He remembered once hearing his father say this cathedral of
Quebec had been designed by one of the de Lerys. From the place in front
of it he could make out dimly, down the slope of Ste. Famille Street
close by, the de Lery mansion itself.

"The father and mother will be there," he cogitated. "They will have had
letters about me from France by this time."

He turned again along Buade Street, and continued his stroll with an
object, for at the point where the sharp descent towards the Lower Town
began he brought up before a stately house of stone, of an antique
architecture, on the face of which, over the door, something
indistinctly glittered. It was the house of the Golden Dog; and as he
surveyed it and tried vainly to read the letters of the inscription,
his shadowy visitor at Troyes once more arose vividly before his
imagination, and the terrible scene of Philibert's murder seemed to be
enacted again upon the flight of steps before the door. Absorbed in the
gruesome story with which he was so strangely connected, he returned to
his chamber, and retired.

Twice he heard the tramp of a change of guards passing along the street.
Once a convent bell rang, perhaps for some midnight burial.

The next day at breakfast he learned from his hostess that the presence
of the strange gentleman lodging with her had been remarked by several
young women, and that it was already the gossip of the Upper Town. In
the course of her stream of news she me