“Now,” he proceeded, with an increased bitterness in his tone and his
hard smile, “I use' thing you one good frien' to me, _mais_, you been
makin' fool of me all that time!”
“You don't think any such thing,” I said.
“You know,” he went on, “who bounce our Fidèle?”
“No.”
Sorel received my reply with a low, incredulous laugh. Then he laid his
hat down on the floor, drew his chair closer, held out his finger,
and, with the air of one who shows another that he knows his secret he
demanded:--
“_Qu'est-ce que c'est qu'un 'Boss'?_”