"Have you heard aught of Black Robe since the burning of La Vierge du Bois?"
"He was in der country of der Miamis this Spring, they saidt."
"And Murray?"
"Nein, Murray is nefer spoken of. Der French would hafe none of him. They saidt he sailed from Quebec for der Hafana."
"So are the mighty fallen," mused the governor as we strolled along. "A few short months ago he was more powerful than I in the province. Today he is nobody."
"Beg yer pardons, sirs," wheezed a voice behind us, "but the tapman at the Whale's Head Tavern yonder said as how one o' ye was Master Ormerod."
The speaker was a tarry, grizzled sailor-man, with three fingers slashed off his left hand. He touched his cap knowingly, and ranged up beside us.
"I am Master Ormerod," I told him.
"Ah, yessir. Thanky, sir."
He eyed me keenly.