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"Jacques Grassette!" he cried, in consternation and emotion, for under another name the murderer had been tried and sentenced, nor had his identity been established the case was so clear, the defence had been perfunctory, and Quebec was very far away! "M'sieu'!" was the respectful response, and Grassette's fingers twitched.
Never had a prisoner been more self-contained, or rejected more completely all those ministrations of humanity which relieve the horrible isolation of the condemned cell. Grassette's isolation was complete.
The Sheriff's words had left no vestige of doubt in Grassette's mind. This Bignold was the man who had taken Marcile away, first to the English province, then into the States, where he had lost track of them, then over to England. Marcile where was Marcile now? In Keeley's Gulch was the man who could tell him, the man who had ruined his home and his life.
The Sheriff's words had left no vestige of doubt in Grassette's mind. This Bignold was the man who had taken Marcile away, first to the English province, then into the States, where he had lost track of them, then over to England. Marcile where was Marcile now? In Keeley's Gulch was the man who could tell him, the man who had ruined his home and his life.
Where was Marcile? Only Bignold knew. Alive or dead? Only Bignold knew. "Bien, I will do it, m'sieu'," he said to the Governor. "I am to go alone eh?" The Sheriff shook his head. "No, two warders will go with you and myself." A strange look passed over Grassette's face. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he said again: "Bon, I will go."
"There is no time to be lost, Grassette. He has been ten days in the mine." Grassette's was not a slow brain. For a man of such physical and bodily bulk, he had more talents than are generally given. If his brain had been slower, his hand also would have been slower to strike.
The Governor turned his head away in pain and trouble, for the man's rage was not a thing to see and they both came from the little parish of St. Francis, and had passed many an hour together. "Never mind, Grassette," he said gently. "Call me what you will. You've got no feeling against me; and I can say with truth that I don't want your life for the life you took." Grassette's breast heaved.
"There is no time to be lost, Grassette. He has been ten days in the mine." Grassette's was not a slow brain. For a man of such physical and bodily bulk, he had more talents than are generally given. If his brain had been slower, his hand also would have been slower to strike.
"There is no time to be lost, Grassette. He has been ten days in the mine." Grassette's was not a slow brain. For a man of such physical and bodily bulk, he had more talents than are generally given. If his brain had been slower, his hand also would have been slower to strike.
The Sheriff's words had left no vestige of doubt in Grassette's mind. This Bignold was the man who had taken Marcile away, first to the English province, then into the States, where he had lost track of them, then over to England. Marcile where was Marcile now? In Keeley's Gulch was the man who could tell him, the man who had ruined his home and his life.
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