He had thought just what Helm was saying.
Beverley's attentions to Alice had not escaped his notice.
"Speaking of that girl," he remarked after a moment's silence,
"what am I do to do with her? There's no place to keep her, and
Farnsworth insists that she wasn't to blame." He chuckled again
and added:
"It's true as gospel. He's in love with her, too. Seems to be glad
she shot him. Says he's ashamed of himself for ever suspecting her
of anything but being a genuine angel. Why, he's got as flabby as
a rabbit and mumbles like a fool!"
"Same as you or I at his age," said Helm, taking a chew of
tobacco. "She IS a pretty thing. Beverley don't know his foot from
his shoulder-blade when she's anywhere near him. Boys are boys.
I'm a sort of a boy myself."
"If she'd give up that flag he'd let her go," said Hamilton. "I hate
like the devil to confine her; it looks brutal, and makes me feel
like a tyrant."
"Have you ever happened to notice the obvious fact, Governor
Hamilton, that Alice Roussillon and Father Beret are not all the
French in Vincennes?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I don't for a moment believe that either the girl or
the priest knows a thing about where that flag is. They are both
as truthful and honorable as people ever get to be. I know them.
Somebody else got that flag from under the priest's floor.
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