CHAPTER XVIII.
GLIMPSES OF DANGER If any trace of anger held place in my heart, it utterly vanished as I noted the bewildered surprise with which De Croix gazed after Mademoiselle's departing figure.
"_Sacre_!" he exclaimed presently, turning toward me, his face flushed, and forgetful of all his well-practised graces.

"'T was an unworthy trick, Master Wayland, and one I am not likely to forget." "'T was a moment ago," I answered, in great good-humor at his discomfiture, "that you claimed wit was as important a factor as fleetness of foot in the winning of a race.

I did no more than illustrate your theory, Monsieur." The humor of it failed to touch him, and there was a direct menace in his manner which caused me to fall back a step in the narrow passage and front him warily.
"No boor of the woods shall laugh at me!" He exclaimed, his eyes aflame with passion, "be the cause love or war.

What mean all these sly tricks of speech and action ?--this hurried message to the ear of Mademoiselle?
By my faith, you did not even pause to wash the dust from off your face before you sought her company.

'T is strange such intimacy could spring up between you in so short a time! But mark you this, Master Wayland, once and for all; I have not voyaged here from Montreal to be balked in my plans by the interference of an uncouth adventurer.