The priests entered the room opposite mine, and I could distinguish the murmur of their voices through the thin partition. These became silent, and I prayed, with head bowed on the window sill. I could not leave that position, could not withdraw my eyes from the scene without. The moon disappeared, the night darkening; I could no longer perceive the line of forest trees, and sitting thus I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
I do not know that I was called, yet when I awoke a faint light proclaiming the dawn was in the sky, and sounds of activity reached my ears from the room below. I felt tired and cramped from my unnatural position, but hastened to join the others. The morning meal was already on the table, and we ate as usual, no one mentioning Chevet, thus proving the body had 184 not been discovered. I could scarcely choke the food down, anticipating every instant the sounding of an alarm. Cassion hurried, excited, no doubt, by the prospect of getting away on our journey, but seemed in excellent humor. Pushing back the box on which he sat, he buckled his pistol belt, seized his hat, and strode to the door.
“We depart at once,” he proclaimed briefly. “So I will leave you, here, to bring the lady.”
Père Allouez, still busily engaged, murmured some indistinct reply, and Cassion’s eyes met mine.
“You look pale, and weary this morning,” he said. “Not fear of the voyage, I hope?”
“No, Monsieur,” I managed to answer quietly. “I slept ill, but shall be better presently––shall I bear my blankets to the boats?”
“The engagé will see to that, only let there be as little delay as possible. Ah! here comes a messenger from below––what is it, my man?”
The fellow, one of the soldiers whose face I did not recall, halted in the open door, gasping for breath, his eyes roving about the room.
“He is dead––the big man,” he stammered. “He is there by the woods.”
“The big man––dead!” Cassion drew back, as though struck a blow. “What big man? Who do you mean?”