adillac put me at arm's length, and puffed his cheeks with silent
laughter. "Plumage, eh? Are you willing to be judged by your own?" He
stopped to let his glance rest on my shabby gear. "Truly it must be a
long year since you fronted a mirror, or you would not be so
complacent. No, monsieur, the prisoner is a gentleman. No yeoman ever
carried his head with such a poise. But who is he? I would give all
the pistoles in my pocket--though, in faith, they're few enough--if I
could understand English. But you may be able to help me. Go speak to
the prisoner in Huron. He must have picked up something of the Indian
speech in his trip here."

This was my opportunity. "Monsieur," I said, "I should like an
understanding. Remember how little all this can mean to me,--a
trader,--and do not think me churlish if I try to keep myself free from
this intrigue. I will go to the prisoner now, if you wish; but, that
done, I beg you to hold me excused of any further service in this
matter."

Cadillac looked me over, and now his glance went, not to my doublet,
but to the man within. "A trader!" he said curtly. "A trader carrying
contraband brandy. A good commandant would send you back where you
belong. No, no, monsieur, wait! I am not threatening you. Though you
know as well as I that the thumb-screws are rather convenient to my
hand should I care to use them. But there should be no necessity for
that. Montlivet, I hardly understand your reluctance in the matter of
this Englishman. We should be one in this affair, whatever our private
concerns. Even Black Gown and I--and the world says we are not
lovers--are working together. Why do you draw back?"

I could not meet him with less than the truth. "You have stated the
reason, monsieur. My private concerns,--they seem large to me, and I
fear to jeopard them by becoming entangled here. I regret this. You
have shown me great clemency in the matter of the brandy,--though if
you had confiscated it I should still have pushed on,--and for that,
and for your own sake, monsieur, I should be glad to serve you."

He looked at my outstretched palm, and laid his own upon it. "'T is
fairly spoken," he said slowly, "and I think you mean it." Then he
grew peevish. "A pest on this country!" he cried. "We are all kings
in disguise, and have a monarchy hidden in our hats. And what does it
amount to? No bread, no wine, no thanks; a dog's life and a jackal's
death,--and all to