"What do you mean?" queried Gaston with a sudden frown.
"Le Monarque sailed out of Le Havre an hour ago; methinks you can still see her sails against the evening sun."
And the young man pointed through the open window out toward the West. Mechanically Gaston's eyes followed the direction in which his friend pointed. There, far away in the mist-laden distance, a graceful three-decker, with sails unfurled, was distinctly visible in the glow of the setting sun. She was gaily riding the waves, the soft south-easterly breeze having carried her swiftly and lightly already far out to sea.
Gaston felt an awful dizziness in his head. An icy sweat broke out upon his brow, he passed a hand across his eyes for he did not feel that he could trust them.
"That is not Le Monarque," he murmured.
"By my faith, but it is," said Mortémar, a little perturbed, for he had not thought to be conveying evil news. "I was bidding her captain 'God-speed' myself little more than an hour ago. A gallant sailor, and a personal friend," he added, "and he seemed mighty glad to get on the way."
"Whither was he bound?" asked Gaston mechanically.
"Nay! that I do not know. Barre had received secret orders only an hour before he started. . . ."
But now Gaston felt his senses reeling.
"She must be stopped! . . . she must be stopped!" he shouted wildly. "I have orders for her . . . she must be stopped, at any cost!"