"He sent you none," cried Norton wildly, and opened the paper. He saw the same writing which he had seen in the note taken from the carrier-pigeon—the writing of Charles Duval, though the note was signed by another name.
Captain Brookfield.
Sir:—The plans are changed. The Regulators will not come aboard your boat but will follow after in a skiff. Do you proceed and leave all to me.
ELISHA AYRES.
Norton looked up, and all things were in a haze before his eyes. Dimly he realized that there had been awful treachery somewhere; dimly he remembered how he had warned Tarascon against the slaves. He tried to speak, but only a hoarse murmur came from his lips.
Duval had tricked them—tricked them! He had known their plot all along and had set a counterplot with devilish ingenuity; this note must have been waiting at Henderson for a day or two——
With a terrible effort to warn Brookfield, Norton screamed out something and fell in a heap as his knees gave way. The strain and the shock had mastered him, and he lay senseless on the deck while the others stared, ignorant of what had chanced, and the horse-boat swept on down-stream.
CHAPTER XIII
A trickle of whisky through his lips brought Norton to his senses. A terrible lassitude had come upon him, but he shook it off with an effort and sat up in the arms of Red Hugh.
Brookfield was standing, watching him, biting at his moustache in anxiety. Behind them Diamond Island was fast slipping into the distance, while the boat's crew was watching Norton from afar, curiously. He looked out at the three-mile stretch of wide river, saw the clustered settlements which lined the banks on the opposite shore, and then—remembered.
"That letter was forged," he said slowly, striving to force himself into coherent calm. Brookfield jumped at the word.