She answered, in French that was almost unintelligible to him, "I am thinking, Monsieur, that Keregnac is greatly honored by the Devil!" The man snarled at her in Gaelic, bidding her be silent, but Trehearne shook his head. "Don't be afraid, _grandmere_. Why do you say that?" "From time to time he sends his sons and daughters to us. They eat our food, borrow our horses, and pay us well. Oh, very well! We could not live, if it were not for them." Her white coif bobbed emphatically. "But it is still the devil's money!" Trehearne laughed. "And do I appear like the devil's son?" "You are the very breed." Trehearne bent closer to her and said, "Once my family lived here. Their name was Cahusac." "Cahusac," she said slowly, and between her gnarled fingers the clicking needles stopped. "Eh, that was long and long ago, and Keregnac has forgotten the Cahusacs. They were driven out...." "Why?" "They had an only child, a daughter, who married one of these handsome sons of the Evil One, and...." She paused and looked at him wisely. "But forgive me, my old tongue has not yet learned caution." Trehearne dropped to one knee beside her, so that he might see her face more clearly. His heart was hammering. "No, no, _grandmere_! Don't stop--it was to hear these things that I came all the way from America. This daughter of the Cahusacs--she had a child?" "And the villagers would have stoned her to death, and the babe too. But she knew, and fled away." She straightened up and her eyes had grown bleak and stern. "We take their silver, and that is sin enough. And I have spoken too much, and will speak no more." "No, please!" Trehearne said. "Who are these strangers--these Vardda? You must know. You must tell me!" But she sat like an image carved from dark wood, her head bent forward over the pale wool spread in her lap. Trehearne stood up, mastering a desire to shake her until the words came, and then he went outside. He walked the few paces to the end of the muddy street and looked out upon a moor that stretched still and desolate under the stars. He stood there for a long time, staring out across the empty heath, his eyes narrowed and intense with thought. Into these wastes, the _landes_, Shairn had gone with Kerrel. Why, for what purpose, he could not guess, any more than he could guess the answers to all the other riddles, and he knew better than to ask his host. The silence mocked him, full of secrets. He had made some progress. He had traced his family back to Keregnac, and he knew now the reason for their leaving. A Vardda hybrid snatched from death at the hands of an irate peasantry--a romantic story, but unrevealing. The answer to the riddle of his birthright lay still farther on. How much farther, he did not dream.