“Bruno also might be suspected.”
“That young scamp? But she cares nothing for him.”
“Has she said so?”
“Yes, a dozen times.”
“Ah, so she converses with you frequently, eh? But, my friend, that is not the only danger you encounter. You, too, are sometimes given to poaching.”
“I?”
“Oh, yes. I know a thing or two about dogs myself, and the young hound crouching there by the forge with such a harmless air is the finest hunter in St. Benoit, and we all know the country is not wanting in good dogs.”
“And what of that, if you please?”
“Nothing at all, my friend, only should Catherine’s husband catch you at it a shot from his gun would soon put an end to you, and the law would exonerate him. Poachers always get the worst of it in those cases.”
Firmin turns visibly pale. True valor is quite an unknown quantity in his composition.