"I can keep a secret without sacred honour."

"Ah, yes, of course! You have a secret of your own--pardon me, I am
only saying what every one says. Well, this is the secret of the woman
Paulette Dubois. My cousin, Robespierre Dauphin, a notary in Quebec, is
the agent of the lawyer, the father of the child. He pities the poor
woman. But he is bound in professional honour to the lawyer fellow, not
to betray. When visiting Robespierre once I found out the truth-by
accident.

"I told him what I intended. He gave permission to tell the woman her
child was alive; and, if need be for her good, to affirm it over and over
again--no more."

"And this?" said Charley, pointing to the injured leg, for he now
associated the accident with the secret just disclosed.

"Ah, you apprehend! You have an avocat's mind--almost. It was at Four
Mountains. Paulette is superstitious; so not long ago she went to live
there alone with an old half-breed woman who has second-sight. Monsieur,
it is a gift unmistakably. For as soon as the hag clapped eyes on me in
the hut, she said: 'There is the man that wrote you the letters.' Well--
what! Paulette Dubois came down on me like an avalanche--Monsieur, like
an avalanche! She believed the old witch; and there was I lying with an
unconvincing manner"--he sighed--"lying requires practice, alas! She saw
I was lying, and in a rage snatched up my gun. It went off by accident,
and brought me down. Did she relent? Not so. She helped to bind me up,
and the last words she said to me were: 'You will suffer; you will have
time to think. I am glad. You have kept me on the rack. I shall only
be sorry if you die, for then I shall not be able to torture you till you