He
lent it to me years ago. No doubt he has forgotten.'"
At that the priest drew from his cassock a tiny packet, and Iberville,
taking, opened it. It held a silver buckle tied by a velvet ribbon. A
flush crept slowly up Iberville's face from his chin to his hair, then he
sighed, and presently, out of all reason, laughed.
"Indeed, yes; it is mine," he said. "I very well remember when I found
it."
Here Perrot spoke. "I very well remember, monsieur, when she took it
from your doublet; but it was on a slipper then."
Iberville did not answer, but held the buckle, rubbing it on his sleeve
as though to brighten it. "So much for the lady," he said at last; "what
more?"
"I learned," answered the abbe, "that Monsieur Gering was in Boston, and
that he was to go to Fort Albany at Hudson's Bay, where, on our
territory, the English have set forts."
Here Perrot spoke. "Do you know, monsieur, who are the poachers? No?
Eh? No? Well, it is that Radisson."
Iberville turned sharply upon Perrot. "Are you sure of that?" he said.
"Are you sure, Nick?"
"As sure as I've a head. And I will tell you more: Radisson was with
Bucklaw at the kidnapping. I had the pleasure to kill a fellow of
Bucklaw, and he told me that before he died.
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