It was a small stream, and except for a postal station at its mouth named St. Boniface, was little known, the only occupants of those parts being trappers and Indians.

When I told the clerk that I had business at St. Boniface I think he concluded that I represented an amalgamation of fishing interests, for he became exceedingly communicative.

“You could hire dogs and a sleigh at St. Boniface for wherever your final destination is,” he said, “because the dog mail has been suspended owing to the new government mail-boats, and the sleighs are idle.  I think Captain Dubois would take you on his boat as far as that point, and I believe he makes his next trip in a couple of days.”

He gave me the captain’s address, and I resolved to call on him early the following day and make arrangements.

I was just turning away when I saw the inquisitive stranger leave the smoking-room.  He crossed the hall and went out, not without bestowing a long look on me.

“Who is that man?” I asked.

“Why, isn’t he a friend of yours?” inquired the clerk.

“Only by the way he stares at me,” I said.

“Well, he said he thought he knew you and asked me your name,” the clerk answered.  “He didn’t give me his, and I don’t think he has been in here before.”

I took Jacqueline for a stroll on the Terrace, and while we walked I pondered over the problem.

The night was too beautiful for my depression of mind to last.  The stars blazed brilliantly overhead; upon our left the faint outlines of the Laurentians rose, in front of us the lights of Levis twinkled above the frozen gulf.  There was a flicker of Northern Lights in the sky.

We paced the Terrace, arm in arm, from the statue of Champlain that overlooks the Place d’Armes to the base of the mighty citadel, and back, till the cold drove us in.

Jacqueline was very quiet, and I wondered what she remembered.  I dreaded always awakening her memory lest, with that of her home, came that other of the dead man.

Our rooms were on the side of the Chateau facing the town, and as we passed beneath the arch I saw two men standing no great distance away, and watching us, it seemed to me.

One wore the cassock of a priest, and I could have sworn that he was Pere Antoine; the other resembled the inquisitive stranger.  As we drew near they moved behind a pillar.  Thus, inexorably, the chase drew near.

My suspicions received confirmation a few minutes later, for we had hardly reached our rooms, and I was, in fact, standing at the door of Jacqueline’s, bidding her good night, when a bellboy came along the passage and announced that the gentleman whom I was expecting was coming up the stairs.

I said good-night to Jacqueline and went into my room and waited.  I had thought it would be the stranger, but it was the priest.

I invited him to enter, and he came in and stood with his fur cap on his head, looking direfully at me.