"I am not a Catholic," she replied gravely. "I've heard, though, that
Monseigneur is trying to stop the trouble. But--" She paused.

"Yes--but?" he asked. "What were you going to say?"

"But there are many roughs in Manitou, and Felix Marchand makes friends
with them. I don't think the priests will be able to help much in the
end, and if it is to be Manitou against Lebanon, you can't expect a great
deal."

"I never expect more than I get--generally less," he answered grimly;
and he moved the gun about on his knees restlessly, fingering the lock
and the trigger softly.

"I am sure Felix Marchand means you harm," she persisted.

"Personal harm?"

"Yes."

He laughed sarcastically again. "We are not in Bulgaria or Sicily," he
rejoined, his jaw hardening; "and I can take care of myself. What makes
you say he means personal harm? Have you heard anything?"

"No, nothing, but I feel it is so. That day at the Hospital Fete he
looked at you in a way that told me. I think such instincts are given
to some people and some races. You read books--I read people. I wanted
to warn you, and I do so. This has been lucky in a way, this meeting.
Please don't treat what I've said lightly. Your plans are in danger and