CHAPTER XXX.
THE TURNCOAT It was late in the sunlit afternoon when there rode into the head of the street of old St.Genevieve a weary and mud-stained horseman, who presently dismounted at the hitching rail in front of the little inn which he favored with his company.

He was a tall man who, as he turned down the street, walked with just the slightest trace of a limp.
This traveler did not turn into the inn, did not pause, indeed, at any of the points of greater interest, but sought out the little cooper shop of Hector Fournier.

That worthy greeted him, wiping his hands upon his leathern apron.
"Eh, bien, then, it is Monsieur Dunwodee! Come in! Come in! I'll been glad for see you.

There was those talk you'll would not came." "Yes, I have come, Hector," said Dunwody, "and naturally, I have come to see you first.

You are one of the few political allies that I have left.