"What 'd he say about Tex Ewalt?"
"He have not see him for many months. He ask me if I know him."
"Well?"
"You forget to tell me what to say. I forget to answer."
"Hm! Beats th' Dutch how a woman 'll crawl out of a hole. When 's he comin' to see you?"
"I do not know. He—he is very droll, that M'sieu Peters. Always he look at me strange like he suspect something."
"He ain't got nothin' to suspect. Did n't try to kiss you, did he?"
"He never come near me one time—no; only he look at me, straight, without any smile."
"Bah! I knowed you did n't take th' right way with him. You got t' tempt them gray-eyed galoots. They 'll follow you easy enough if you show 'em there's somethin' at the end o' th' trail. You go ag'in. Make him glad to see you. Won't be long afore he 's hangin' round, then."
"Quel jour—when I must go?"