"Could you not understand what he wanted?" asked the priest.
"No, monsieur; the only word I could make out was 'la cooré,' so I thought that might mean you."
"Well, well," said M. Bois-le-Duc, laughing, "the best thing is for me to see him myself."
He went out into the tiny dark passage where Mr. Webster and his clerk were standing.
"Good-evening," he said, in his polished courtly manner. "I must apologize for having kept you waiting so long. Pray come into my study. I fear Julie was somewhat brusque and rude to you. She is a good soul, though. Please be seated, gentlemen."
"M. la cooré," said Webster, struggling hard with his one French word, and breaking down lamentably.
"I can speak English," said the priest, "if that will help you."
"Oh, yes," replied Webster, drawing a deep sigh of relief; "thank Heaven for that."
M. le curé smiled benignly.
"Well, sir," went on the lawyer, "I've come to ask you whether you knew a family called McAllister, supposed to be living in these parts."