Crépin stared. The man bent still more earnestly forward.
“Mademoiselle Carinne——”
“The niece of De Lâge——?”
“She must be considered—respected. I will not have her insulted with a look.”
“What now, Michel?”
“Oh, monsieur! you may do as you will with the old, hard man; but her—her——”
“And is it for the lady’s sake thou hast forborne hitherto to appropriate this treasure, the hiding-place of which thou wilt buy thy life by revealing?”
“It is so. I have driven a desperate trade, starving often with this knowledge in my breast.”
“But why?”
“How can I tell? I have known her from a child. Once she struck me that I killed a cheeping wolf-cub she had brought from the snow; and then she was sorry and kissed the little stupid bruise; and I swore my arm should rot before it lost the will to protect her.”