"None in the world, Jean," he returned promptly, "if you have your trading-permit with you. But who is the good savage with you?"
Nobody had told me anything of a trading-permit, and I fought for time.
"You call him good with justice, monsieur— By the way, what is your name?"
"They call me Joncaire," he said with a trace of grimness.
"Joncaire! Mort de ma vie!"
And I appealed with all the precision my memory would permit to the calendar of the saints.
"The very man I have been searching for!"
"What? How is that?" he asked.
"Ah, but that is a tale! I can not believe it now! Am I in very truth on French soil once more?"
"This is the Magazin Royal," he returned. "As for French soil, mon brave, I do not see how you could have been off it."