"He will win the confidence of the red man, Murray, because he speaks straight. But you speak with the tongue of an Englishman, and think with the mind of a Frenchman."
Murray smiled.
"But always to my own interest, Ta-wan-ne-ars. Well, good luck to the two of you. And do not permit the Keepers to take you alive."
His smile became a sardonic grin.
"The Keepers have their own way with prisoners, you know. 'Tis part of their reward—or so the story goes."
I felt a shock of revulsion against the man. And he was the father of Marjory!
"You double-dyed scoundrel!" I ripped out at him.
"Have I touched your nerves?" he gibed. "Zooks, how sad! Well, I have company. I will bid you good evening."
The door shut behind his mocking grin, and we descended the stairs to the street. Ta-wan-ne-ars walked beside me without speaking until we had left the tavern.
"I understand your thoughts, my brother," he said suddenly. "We go upon the same quest."