"Never mind what it's
for. I want it at once--one with the long hair of a French-Canadian
coureur-de-bois. Have you got one?"
"Suh, I'll send it round-no, I'll bring it round as I come from dinner.
Want the clothes, too?"
"No. I'm arranging for them with Osterhaut. I've sent word by Jowett."
"You want me to know what it's for?"
"You can know anything I know--almost, Berry. You're a friend of the
right sort, and I can trust you."
"Yeth-'ir, I bin some use to you, onct or twict, I guess."
"You'll have a chance to be of use more than ever presently."
"Suh, there's gain' to be a bust-up, but I know who's comin' out on the
top. That Felix Marchand and his roughs can't down you. I hear and see a
lot, and there's two or three things I was goin' to put befo' you;
yeth-'ir."
He unloaded his secret information to his friend, and was rewarded by
Ingolby suddenly shaking his hand warmly.
"That's the line," Ingolby said decisively. "When do you go over to
Manitou again to cut old Hector Marchand's hair? Soon?"
"To-day is his day--this evening," was the reply.
"Good. You wanted to know what the wig and the habitant's clothes are
for, Berry--well, for me to wear in Manitou. In disguise I'm going there
tonight among them all, among the roughs and toughs.
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