station.

I was a good deal troubled by this, but before I had decided to address
the fellow we landed, and a sleigh swept us up the hill toward the
château to the tune of jingling bells. It was a strange wintry
scene--the low sleighs, their drivers wrapped in furs and capped in
bearskin, the hooded nuns in the streets, the priests, soldiers, and
ancient houses. The air was keen and dry.

"This is Quebec, Jacqueline," I said.

I thought that she remembered unwillingly, but she said nothing.

I dared ask her no questions. I fancied that each scene brought back
its own memories, but not the ideas associated with the chain of scenes.

We secured adjacent rooms at the château, and leaving Jacqueline to
unpack her things, and under instructions not to leave her room and
promising to return as soon as possible, I started out at once to find
Maclay & Robitaille's.

This proved a task of no great difficulty. It was a little shop where
leather goods were sold, situated on St. Joseph Street. A young man
with a dark, clean-shaven face, was behind the counter. He came
forward courteously as I approached.

"I have come on an unusual mission," I began foolishly and stopped,
conscious of the inanity of this address. What a stupid thing to have
said! I must have aroused his suspicions immediately.