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.