Ambrose, sore and indignant, would not make any more overtures. "There's a postscript I must add," he said coldly, extending his hand for the letter.
"I cannot wait for you to write it," she said. "Tell me. I will add it myself."
"I think it likely," Ambrose said, "that Nesis"—Colina winced at the
sound of the name—"has been spirited away from the Kakisa village.
There are two other villages, one on Buffalo Lake and one on Kakisa
Lake, about sixty miles up the Kakisa River.
"They brought her up the river with me, so it is hardly likely she was sent down again to Buffalo Lake. I think she's at Kakisa Lake, if she's alive."
Colina bowed. "I will tell Germain Grampierre," she said. Her hand rose to the door.
Ambrose's heart failed him. "Ah, Colina!" he cried reproachfully and imploringly.
She slipped out without answering.
Ambrose flung himself on his bed and cursed fate again. He was not experienced enough to realize that this was not necessarily a fatal break.
All night he tried to steel his heart against fate and against Colina. It was harder now. It was an utterly wretched Ambrose that faced the dawn.
While it was still early Emslie passed him a note through the window.
Ambrose knew the handwriting, and tore it open with trembling fingers.
He read: