She did not note that Iberville had risen, and had come round the table to look over Councillor Drayton’s shoulder at a map spread out. After standing a moment watching, the councillor’s finger his pilot, he started back to his seat. As he did so he caught sight of her still in that poise of wonderment and sadness. He stopped short, then glanced at Colonel Nicholls and the councillor. Both were bent over the map, talking in eager tones. He came softly round the table, and was about to speak over her shoulder, when she drew herself up with a little shiver and seemed to come back from afar. Her hands went up to her eyes. Then she heard him. She turned quickly, with the pageant of her dreams still wavering in her face; smiled at him distantly, looked towards the window again in a troubled way, then stepped softly and swiftly to the door, and passed out. Iberville watched the door close and turned to the window. Again he saw, and this time nearer to the window, Radisson, and with him the man who had so suddenly mastered Jessica.
He turned to Colonel Nicholls. “Your excellency,” he said, “will you not let me tell Count Frontenac that you forbid Radisson your purlieus? For, believe me, sir, there is no greater rogue unhanged, as you shall find some day to the hurt of your colony, if you shelter him.”
The governor rose and paced the room thoughtfully. “He is proclaimed by Frontenac?” he asked.
“A price is on his head. As a Frenchman I should shoot him like a wolf where’er I saw him; and so I would now were I not Count Frontenac’s ambassador and in your excellency’s presence.”
“You speak manfully, monsieur,” said the governor, not ill-pleased; “but how might you shoot him now? Is he without there?” At this he came to where Iberville stood, and looked out. “Who is the fellow with him?” he asked.
“A cut-throat scoundrel, I’ll swear, though his face is so smug,” said Iberville. “What think you sir?” turning to the councillor, who was peering between their shoulders.
“As artless yet as strange a face as I have ever seen,” answered the merchant. “What’s his business here, and why comes he with the other rogue? He would speak with your excellency, I doubt not,” he added.
Colonel Nicholls turned to Iberville. “You shall have your way,” he said. “Yon renegade was useful when we did not know what sudden game was playing from Chateau St. Louis; for, as you can guess, he has friends as faithless as himself. But to please your governor, I will proclaim him.”
He took his stick and tapped the floor. Waiting a moment, he tapped again. There was no sign. He opened the door; but his Scots body-guard was not in sight. “That’s unusual,” he said. Then, looking round: “Where is our other councillor? Gone?” he laughed. “Faith, I did not see her go. And now we can swear that where the dear witch is will Morris, my Scotsman, be found. Well, well! They have their way with us whether we will or no. But, here, I’ll have your Radisson in at once.”
He was in act to call when Morris entered. With a little hasty rebuke he gave his order to the man. “And look you, my good Morris,” he added, “tell Sherlock and Weir to stand ready. I may need the show of firearms.”