"After the massacre," he began, with
an effort, "I followed many false trails. I went to Quebec, to
Montreal. All this has nothing to do with what you wish to know. But
at Montreal I first heard rumors of an English prisoner who was being
carried westward. That sent me to Michillimackinac."
"You heard this rumor through the priests?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"I thought so. It is fortunate for the success of your somewhat
complicated plans that you are a Catholic and a Jacobite."
"Is there a slur in that remark, monsieur?"
"Not unless the facts themselves are insulting, Our priests would see
no hidden purpose in your story. They would be predisposed in favor of
a Catholic and follower of James. They would give you letters where a
commandant would not. It was good policy to go to them."
"But, monsieur, I am a Catholic!"
"Which, I repeat, is fortunate."
"Monsieur, this is wanton insult. Are you trying to pick a quarrel
with me here, here with this tragedy around us? It is a dog's trick.
I will not fight you."
Again I took out my knife. "I will not fight you here,--here with this
tragedy around us,--but I may kill you. I shall do it if you do not
tell me this story fairly.
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