"I not stand up for you," he growled at
the Sheriff; "I stand up for him." He jerked his head towards Sir Henri
Robitaille. This grand Seigneur, with Michelin, had believed in him in
those far-off days which he had just been seeing over again, and all his
boyhood and young manhood was rushing back on him. But now it was the
Governor who turned pale, seeing who the criminal was.
"Jacques Grassette!" he cried in consternation and emotion, for under
another name the murderer had been tried and sentenced, nor had his
identity been established--the case was so clear, the defence had been
perfunctory, and Quebec was very far away.
"M'sieu'!" was the respectful response, and Grassette's fingers twitched.
"It was my sister's son you killed, Grassette," said the Governor in a
low, strained voice.
"Nom de Dieu!" said Grassette hoarsely.
"I did not know, Grassette," the Governor went on "I did not know it was
you."
"Why did you come, m'sieu'?"
"Call him 'your Honour,"' said the Sheriff sharply. Grassette's face
hardened, and his look turned upon the Sheriff was savage and forbidding.
"I will speak as it please me. Who are you? What do I care? To hang
me--that is your business; but, for the rest, you spik to me differen'.
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