What do the
priests--what does Monseigneur Lourde say to it all?"
"I am not a Catholic," she replied gravely. "I've heard, though, that
Monseigneur is trying to stop the trouble. But--" She paused.
"Yes--but?" he asked. "What were you going to say?"
"But there are many roughs in Manitou, and Felix Marchand makes friends
with them. I don't think the priests will be able to help much in the
end, and if it is to be Manitou against Lebanon, you can't expect a great
deal."
"I never expect more than I get--generally less," he answered grimly; and
he moved the gun about on his knees restlessly, fingering the lock and
the trigger softly.
"I am sure Felix Marchand means you harm," she persisted.
"Personal harm?"
"Yes."
He laughed sarcastically again. "We are not in Bulgaria or Sicily," he
rejoined, his jaw hardening; "and I can take care of myself. What makes
you say he means personal harm? Have you heard anything?"
"No, nothing, but I feel it is so. That day at the Hospital Fete he
looked at you in a way that told me. I think such instincts are given to
some people and some races. You read books--I read people. I wanted to
warn you, and I do so. This has been lucky in a way, this meeting. Please
don't treat what I've said lightly.
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