Corlaer and I left Ta-wan-ne-ars at the tavern to receive the baggage, whilst we called upon Mayor Livingston. He was preparing for his bed, but on my sending up word by the slave that I carried a letter from the governor he tucked his shirt into his breeches and came down to us. From him we learned that Murray had spent but twenty-four hours in the town and was gone two days since.
"Did he say where?" I inquired curiously.
Master Livingston chuckled.
"He caused to be circulated that he was going upon a round of his 'trading-stations' to correct some slackness which had developed during his absence. 'Tis his usual excuse when he disappears."
"He was not alone?"
"No. He was accompanied by a Frenchman and that scoundrel, Tom, as well as by some misguided young female."
"She was his daughter," I said.
"So he said, I believe," agreed Master Livingston negligently.
"But I am sure she is," I insisted. "There can be no doubt——"
"Then I am vastly sorry for her lot," he replied good-humoredly.