“To be sure; I called him no worse than I have heard La Barre speak. They say he has left Quebec; what more know you?”
“’Tis no secret, Monsieur,” replied De Artigny quietly enough, although there was a flash in his eyes, as they met mine. “The Sieur de la Salle has sailed for France.”
“France! Bah! you jest; there has been no ship outward bound.”
“The Breton paused at St. Roche, held by the fog. When the fog lifted there was a new passenger aboard. By dawn the Indian paddlers had me landed in Quebec.”
“Does La Barre know?”
“Faith! I could not tell you that, as he has not honored me with audience.”
Cassion strode back and forth, his face dark with passion. It was not pleasant news he had been told, and it was plain enough he understood the meaning.
“By the saints!” he exclaimed. “’Tis a sly fox to break through our guard so easily. Ay, and ’twill give him a month to whisper his lies to Louis, before La Barre can forward a report. But, sacre! my young chanticleer, surely you are not here to bring me this bit of news. You sought me, you said? Well, for what purpose?”
“In peace, Monsieur. Because I have served Sieur de la Salle loyally is no reason why we should be enemies. We are both the King’s men, and may work together. The word has come to me that you head a party for the Illinois, with instructions for De Baugis at Fort St. Louis. Is this true?”