"In the confusion—yes, your Excellency."
The Governor waved his hand impatiently.
"'By this time the ship of the Black Seigneur had drawn nearer and our men put about and made for the Mount with a number of prisoners. Several shots were sent after us, but we managed to reach port.'"
"The officer in charge of the troops thinks this fellow, their leader, was wounded severely—fatally perhaps?"
"He thinks it most probable, your Excellency."
For some time the Governor, with frowning brows, sipped silently from a glass of liquor at his elbow, and, stiff, motionless, the commandant waited; close at hand, a dove plumed itself on the roof of the cloister walk; beyond, the girl again began to sing fitfully.
Out of the corner of his eye the commandant dared look at her, leaning now against the wall, the clear-cut, white features outlined against an illimitable blue background.
"Les amours—"
Involuntarily he started to raise a hand to his warlike mustache, when abruptly was his wandering attention recalled. "The man ashore I spoke to you about, has been taken into custody?"
"Yes, your Excellency; and is now at the barracks."