“All that concerns Pontiac concerns me.”
“And me; I am as good a citizen as you.”
“You are troubling our people. This is illegal—this bearing arms, these purposes of yours. It is mere filibustering, and you are an—”
Valmond waved his hand, as if to stop the word. “I am Valmond Napoleon, monsieur.”
“If you do not promise to forego this, I will arrest you,” said De la Riviere sharply.
“You?” Valmond smiled ironically.
“I am a justice of the peace. I have the power.”
“I have the power to prevent arrest, and I will prevent it, monsieur. You alone of all this parish, I believe of all this province, turn a sour face, a sour heart, to me. I regret it, but I do not fear it.”
“I will have you in custody, or there is no law in Quebec,” was the acrid set-out.
Valmond’s face was a feverish red now, and he made an impatient gesture. Both men had bitter hearts, for both knew well that the touchstone of this malice was Madame Chalice. Hatred looked out of their eyes. It was, each knew, a fight to the dark end.