She looked about her hastily. "I'm here against my wish, Eleazar.
I want to get away from here as soon as I can."
He drew away in sudden fright. "I'll not know nossing at all, me," he reiterated.
"Eleazar, you like money perhaps?"
"Of course, yes. Tout le monde il aime l'argent."
"Then listen, Eleazar. Some day we will walk, perhaps. How far is it to Cape Girardeau, where the French people live?"
"My son Hector he'll live there wance, on Cap' Girardeau. He'll make the tub, make the cask, make the bar_rel_. Cap' Girardeau, oh, perhaps two—t'ree day. Me, I walk heem once, maybe so feefty mile, maybe so seexty mile, in wan day, two-t'ree a little more tam, me. I was more younger then. But now my son he'll live on St. Genevieve, French place there, perhaps thirtee mile. Cap' Girardeau, seventy-five mile. You'll want for go there?" he added cunningly.
"Sometime," she remarked calmly. Eleazar was shrewd in his own way. He strolled off to find his spade.
Before she could resume the conversation Josephine heard behind her in the hall a step, which already she recognized. Dunwody greeted her at the door, frowning as he saw her sudden shrinking back at sight of him.
"Good morning," he said. "You have, I hope, slept well. Have you and Eleazar here planned any way to escape as yet?" He smiled at her grimly. Eleazar had shuffled away.
"Not yet."