"I have tracked my miniature," it read. "I mourned its disappearance; I should welcome its return. Can you find excuses for the man who took it from me? If you can, I beg that you let me hear them. He was once my friend, and I am loath to think of him hardly." The note bore no signature. It was dated at the governor's house at Montreal, and directed to me at Michillimackinac.
I was alone with Dubisson and I turned to him. "Madame Bertheau is at
Montreal?"
He shrugged. "So I hear."
"She has come to see her brother?"
Now he grinned. "Ostensibly, monsieur."
There was no need to hide my feeling from Dubisson, so I sat with my chin sunk low and thought it over. I was ill pleased. I had been long and openly in Madame Bertheau's train, and this was a land of gossips. I turned to the lieutenant.
"Madame de Montlivet, where is she housed?"
He looked relieved. "She has a room next door. Starling we have taken in with us. I would rather have a tethered elk. He is so big he fills the whole place."
Now, square issues please me. "Dubisson, why has no one offered to take me to my wife?"
The man laughed rather helplessly. "'T is from no lack of respect for either of you, monsieur. But you said nothing, and Starling"——