"Simon, him tell me long ago nobody come to château. So you finish, too, maybe. What he tell you, you go?"
"Lacroix is going to take me to Père Antoine's cabin to-morrow morning," I answered.
The Indian grunted. "Simon no mean to let you go," he said. "He mean kill you. You know too much. Sometime he kill me, too, or I kill him. Once I live in old château at St. Boniface with old M'sieur Duchaine. Good days then, not like how. Hunt plenty game. Fine people come from Quebec, not like Simon. M'sieur Charles small boy then. All finish now."
"Pierre," I said, taking him by the arm, "what is the Old Angel—le Vieil Ange?"
He stared stolidly at me.
"Why you ask that?" he said.
"Because Lacroix has been instructed to take me by that route," I answered.
Pierre said not a word, but smoked in silence. I sat upon the couch waiting. His face was quite impassive, but I knew that my question was of tremendous import to me.
At last he shook the ashes out of his pipe and rose. "Come with me," he said. "I show you—because you frien' of Ma'm'selle Jacqueline. Come."
I followed him out of the hut. A large moon was just rising out of the east, but it was not yet high enough to cast much light.