She slipped down from her stool thereat and courtesied.
The Governor took no notice of her politeness beyond a severe stare. “Well,” he inquired, “and for what did you come?”
“If you please, your Excellency,” faltered Abigail, “Deliverance, my dear friend—”
At this, Master Ronald, who stood on the further side of the Governor’s chair, coughed. She glanced up and saw he had put his finger to his lips to enjoin silence. Frightened, she stopped short.
During the pause, the Governor drew out a gold snuff-box and took a pinch of snuff. Then he flicked the powder, which had drifted on his velvet coat, off daintily with his kerchief. “Well,” said he, “have you lost your tongue?”
“My dear friend, Deliverance,” repeated Abigail.
“In other words,” broke in Master Ronald, his tone sharp with anxiety, “she desires to ask your Excellency if you know the whereabouts of any person answering this description.” And briefly he described the stranger whom Deliverance had met in the forest.
At these words the Governor’s expression mellowed slightly and he smiled. “Then you have no favour to ask of me,” he said. “I think I know the person of whom you speak.” He rose. “I will find out if you may see him.”