"Let us first go to the Bay," she said; "perhaps, we shall not care to go farther."
And Martha Stirling, from the rose-walk, saw them go. And surprise grew slowly to amazement, and then—as the minutes fled, and they returned not—the surprise changed into anger, sharp and sudden. And she left the rose-walk, and hastened to the Governor.
She found him in his apartment, in converse with Richard Maynadier. Both men arose, when she entered, and the latter made a move to retire. She stopped him.
"Just a moment, Mr. Maynadier," she said—"I want only to give this letter to Colonel Sharpe. It contains some information which it seems well he should have at once.—It is from Lady Catherwood, sir," she added; "it came this evening, and, though only a woman's letter, this part," (indicating) "will prove very interesting reading."
She handed the letter to him, shot Maynadier a bewitching smile, dropped them both a curtsy, and was gone.
"Your pardon, a moment!" said the Governor.... At the end, he passed the letter across to Maynadier, and his face was troubled.
"Miss Stirling was right," he said. "But it is more than interesting—unfortunate, I should term it."
Maynadier read it carefully before answering—then, he put it slowly down.
"What course will you pursue?" he asked. "The evidence is all but conclusive, now."
The Governor sent cloud after cloud of smoke ceiling-ward.