“My Dear Father:
“I was not only surprised but delighted to receive your letter. I have never felt that I was of French birth, and I knew I was not English. I am glad to know that I am a Corsican. I never knew before what ancestral pride was, but now it surges over my heart like the waves of the ocean. Do not fear that I will leave Corsica before we meet. If the vessel sails, I will endeavour to get a furlough. If I cannot, I shall resign my position in the British Navy and devote my life to proving your innocence and reclaiming my heritage. I do not fear the Batistellis. I hear that one is a coward and the other a drunkard, but the daughter is an angel, who is betrothed to a devil named Count Mont d’Oro. I will keep away from them.
“Ever your loving and dutiful son,
“Vandemar Della Coscia.”
It was long after dark when Paoli reported for duty to his chief.
“How is your mother?” asked Cromillian.
“But poorly,” was Paoli’s reply. “I do not think that she can live much longer. She made me promise that I would come to see her again in a week.”
“And you must go,” said Cromillian. “Bad men, as well as good men, usually have good mothers, and wickedness in a son can be atoned for greatly by filial tenderness.”
“How did the messenger succeed with his errand?” asked Paoli.
“Completely,” said Cromillian. “I have had a long walk. I am tired and footsore, for I had to go a long way from here to find the one who wrote the letter which I sent, and to whom the reply belonged.”