The affair was clear enough now, except for some few corroborative details.
"And someone did come, Broussard ?" "Oui, damn queek--a fellow with a letter from Philip; eet was sign hees name, hees handwrite, appoint heem overseer." "And what became of him ?" The Creole shrugged his shoulders.
"'T is not my business, M'sieur.

He go way somewhere queek.

Maybe he not like ze place." The dead face of the bearded man in the rear room rose before me.

But Broussard went on.
"Zen you came, M'sieur, 'long wiz ze girl.

Ze Capitaine he laugh, eet was so easy.