"One question of curiosity, monsieur, if it is permissible," he said a little later. "Why does Leroux wish so much to stop your marriage with mademoiselle that he is ready to stoop to assassination and kidnapping?"
My heart felt very warm toward the good man. I knew how that loose end in the romance that he had built up troubled him. And, though I hardly knew myself, I must give him some satisfactory solution of his problem.
"Because he is himself in love with her," I said.
The captain clenched his fists. "God forbid!" he muttered. "They say his wife died of a broken heart. Ah, monsieur, swear to me that this shall never come about, that mademoiselle become his wife. Swear it to me, mon ami!"
I swore it, and we shook hands again. I was sorry for my deception then, and afterward I had occasion to remember it.
Five minutes later we had cast off, and the Sainte-Vierge steamed slowly through the drift ice that packed the gulf. There were no lights upon the Claire, and I surmised that the conspirators were keeping quietly hidden in expectation of Jacqueline's arrival, though how Dubois had outwitted them I could not at the time surmise.
However, there was little doubt that once the trick was discovered the Claire would follow on our heels.
Standing on deck, I watched the lights of Levis and Quebec draw together as we steamed eastward. I cast a last look at the château and the ramparts. I felt it would be many days before I set eyes on them again.
Then I sought my cabin and fell asleep, dreaming of Jacqueline.