"Only by the way he stares at me," I said.
"Well, he said he thought he knew you and asked me your name," the clerk answered. "He didn't give me his, and I don't think he has been in here before."
I took Jacqueline for a stroll on the Terrace, and while we walked I pondered over the problem.
The night was too beautiful for my depression of mind to last. The stars blazed brilliantly overhead; upon our left the faint outlines of the Laurentians rose, in front of us the lights of Levis twinkled above the frozen gulf. There was a flicker of Northern Lights in the sky.
We paced the Terrace, arm in arm, from the statue of Champlain that overlooks the Place d'Armes to the base of the mighty citadel, and back, till the cold drove us in.
Jacqueline was very quiet, and I wondered what she remembered. I dreaded always awakening her memory lest, with that of her home, came that other of the dead man.
Our rooms were on the side of the Château facing the town, and as we passed beneath the arch I saw two men standing no great distance away, and watching us, it seemed to me.
One wore the cassock of a priest, and I could have sworn that he was Père Antoine; the other resembled the inquisitive stranger. As we drew near they moved behind a pillar. Thus, inexorably, the chase drew near.
My suspicions received confirmation a few minutes later, for we had hardly reached our rooms, and I was, in fact, standing at the door of Jacqueline's, bidding her good night, when a bellboy came along the passage and announced that the gentleman whom I was expecting was coming up the stairs.
I said good-night to Jacqueline and went into my room and waited. I had thought it would be the stranger, but it was the priest.