?" Dupont said. "_Sacre_, it is
time!"

"Do what?" rejoined the other, heavily.

An angry light leaped into Dupont's eyes. "You not unnerstan' my
letters--bah! You know it all right, so queeck."

The other remained silent, staring into the fire with wide, searching
eyes.

Dupont put a hand on him. "You ketch my idee queeck. We mus' have more
money from that Henderley--certainlee. It is ten years, and he t'ink it is
all right. He t'ink we come no more becos' he give five t'ousand dollars
to us each. That was to do the t'ing, to fire the country. Now we want
another ten t'ousan' to us each, to forget we do it for him--_hein_?"

Still there was no reply. Dupont went on, watching the other furtively,
for he did not like this silence. But he would not resent it till he was
sure there was good cause.

"It comes to suit us. He is over there at the Old Man Lak', where you can
get at him easy, not like in the city where he lif'. Over in the States,
he laugh mebbe, becos' he is at home, an' can buy off the law. But
here--it is Canadaw, an' they not care eef he have hunder' meellion
dollar. He know that--sure. Eef you say you not care a dam to go to jail,
so you can put him there, too, becos' you have not'ing, an' so dam seeck
of everyt'ing, he will t'ink ten t'ousan' dollar same as one cent to Nic
Dupont--_ben sur_!"

Lygon nodded his head, still holding his hands to the blaze. With ten
thousand dollars he could get away into--into another world somewhere,
some world where he could forget, as he forgot for a moment this afternoon
when the girl said to him, "It is never too late to mend."

Now, as he thought of her, he pulled his coat together and arranged the
rough scarf at his neck involuntarily. Ten thousand dollars--but ten
thousand dollars by blackmail, hush-money, the reward of fire and blood
and shame! Was it to go on? Was he to commit a new crime?

He stirred, as though to shake off the net that he felt twisting round
him, in the hands of the robust and powerful Dupont, on whom crime sat so
lightly, who had flourished while he, Lygon, had gone lower and lower. Ten
years ago he had been the better man, had taken the lead, was the master,
Dupont the obedient confederate, the tool. Now, Dupont, once the rough
river-driver, grown prosperous in a large way for him--who might yet be
mayor of his town in Quebec--he held the rod of rule. Lygon was conscious
that the fifty dollars sent him every New Year for five years by