"The letter was a bait?" I exclaimed incredulously.
"For you—yes. I say again—you fool! Baptiste took the letter to Murray, and Murray read it to me. It could not have been contrived more skilfully to suit our plans."
'Twas ridiculous, no doubt, but I was easier in my heart for assurance that Marjory had not known her appeal was used as a lure. It enabled me to maintain a stoicism of demeanor I did not feel.
"Well, 'twas kind of you to make such haste," he went on, sneering down at me. "You will be in time for the wedding after all. Oh, never fear; you shall be permitted to live that long. We have plenty of meat in this bag to supply diversion for our savages in the meantime.
"You, my friend, and the noble Iroquois here"—he kicked Ta-wan-ne-ars viciously—"shall be kept for the last. Who knows! We may have a new Mistress of the False Faces then. We are not pleased with the present one. There was something uncommonly odd about the circumstances of your escape—although 'tis true I had the little wildcat in my arms at the time—and it would add to the aroma of the mystery to have a white Mistress for a change. Aye, that is an idea worth considering."
He switched suddenly into the Seneca vernacular.
"Are you all here, Iroquois dogs?" he demanded curtly. "The scouts reported twenty warriors."
"All are here, French mongrel," returned Ta-wan-ne-ars pleasantly.
De Veulle kicked him.
"Keep that for the torture-stake," he advised. "We have five corpses and fourteen warriors and yourself. That is all?"