M. Fille's voice was almost querulous.
"If you will but be patient, monsieur! I saw a man with a woman in his
arms, and I fear that I must mention the name of the man. It is not
necessary to give the name of the woman, but I have it written here"--he
tapped the paper--"and there is no mistake in the identity. The man's
name is George Masson, master-carpenter, of the town of Laplatte in the
province of Quebec."
George Masson was as one hit between the eyes. He made a motion as though
to ward off a blow. "Name of Peter, old cock!" he exclaimed abruptly.
"You saw enough certainly, if you saw that, and you needn't mention the
lady's name, as you say. The evidence is not merely circumstantial. You
saw it with your own eyes, and you are an official of the Court, and have
the ear of the Judge, and you look like a saint to a jury. Well for sure,
I can't prove defamation of character, as you say. But what then--what do
you want?"
"What I want I hope you may be able to grant without demur, monsieur. I
want you to give your pledge on the Book"--he laid his hand on a
Testament lying on the table--"that you will hold no further
communication with the lady."
"Where do you come inhere? What's your standing in the business?" Masson
jerked out his words now. The Clerk of the Court made a reproving
gesture. "Knowing what I did, what I had seen, it was clear that I must
approach one or other of the parties concerned.
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