The eye-glass troubled the Cure, and the look on Charley's face troubled him still more, but it passed as Charley said, in a voice as simple as the Cure's own: "You may still help me as you have already done.

I give you my word, too"-- strange that he touched his lips with his tongue as he did in the old days when his mind turned to Jean Jolicoeur's saloon--"that I will do nothing to cause regret for your humanity and--and Christian kindness." Again the tongue touched the lips--a wave of the old life had swept over him, the old thirst had rushed upon him.

Perhaps it was the force of this feeling which made him add, with a curious energy, "I give you my word, Monsieur le Cure." At that moment the door opened and Jo entered.
"M'sieu'," he said to Charley, "a registered parcel has come for you.
It has been brought by the postmaster's daughter.

She will give it to no one but yourself." Charley's face paled, and the Cure's was scarcely less pale.

In Charley's mind was the question, Who had discovered his presence here?
Was he not, then, to escape?
Who should send him parcels through the post?
The Cure was perturbed.