He picked up his pipe, knocked it out, filled it with the tobacco and willow-bark. “Suppose you let me take another look at that emerald thing--what did you call it? Star of Dreams?” Frontin, who still held the star, pushed it across the table. He, too, got a pipe from the mantel and filled it. Vanderberg remained silent, puffing lustily. Crawford looked again at the star and perceived a ring at one of the points, by which it might be fastened on a thong. The thing had no great intrinsic value, since few of the emeralds were fine stones, but it held that peculiar beauty which comes of primitive artistry and crude technique guided by instinctively flawless taste. “Star of Dreams,” said Frontin. “It was Saint-Castin called it that name.” “A good name for it,” and Crawford nodded. “I think I shall keep it. I like the thing.” Vanderberg, who at most times was somewhat afraid of his saturnine lieutenant, gaped at this remark. Crawford looked up and met the suddenly piercing gaze of Frontin. “You jest?” said the latter. “Not at all.” Crawford looked again at the star in his hand. “The name and the object appeal to my sentimental nature, awaken poetic fancies in me, I assure you. This thing might symbolize the star of freedom which I pursue. At all events, it makes a certain appeal to me which I cannot resist.” Vanderberg grinned. “So, Frontin! So! Another theological argument?” Crawford glanced up and smiled. “Not at all. I do not propose a theft, but an exchange which will be more than even--which will, in fact, be greatly to the advantage of our host’s chapel.” He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a thong on which was strung a blazing jewel, which, after unknotting the thong, he laid upon the table. An exclamation burst from Frontin. “But--this is the Order of St. Louis!” “Exactly,” said Crawford, with a nod. “His Most Catholic Majesty once decorated me with it, and from a feeling of sentiment I preserved it through many vicissitudes. Now, having abandoned sentiment, kings and other old-world follies together, I am very glad to leave this jewel here. You shall put it in Saint-Castin’s reliquary. In place of it I will take the Star of Dreams, as being worth infinitely less in money, and infinitely more in the greatest things, which are intangible. I trust that you will have no scruples in the matter of such an exchange? The Blessed Virgin, or St. Michael, or whoever is the patron of yonder chapel, will certainly profit by the trade. St. Louis for St. Michael--eh?” Frontin compressed his lips, gazing at the jewelled star. But Vanderberg was also gazing at the same thing, with lustful and incredulous eyes, for in truth it was a jewel of great worth. Then, abruptly, Vanderberg blurted out his mind. “Ha! Frontin--will you let him make fools of us? Leave the relic where we found it, kill him, and take these jewels. What’s to hinder, eh?”