“The Governor? Ye're mad!” He looked from one to the other. “I am the Governor.”
“You were,” said the little man dryly. “But we've changed that in your absence. You're broke for abandoning your post without due cause, and thereby imperiling the settlement over which you had charge. It's a serious matter, Colonel Bishop, as you may find. Considering that you held your office from the Government of King James, it is even possible that a charge of treason might lie against you. It rests with your successor entirely whether ye're hanged or not.”
Bishop rapped out an oath, and then, shaken by a sudden fear: “Who the devil may you be?” he asked.
“I am Lord Willoughby, Governor General of His Majesty's colonies in the West Indies. You were informed, I think, of my coming.”
The remains of Bishop's anger fell from him like a cloak. He broke into a sweat of fear. Behind him Lord Julian looked on, his handsome face suddenly white and drawn.
“But, my lord...” began the Colonel.
“Sir, I am not concerned to hear your reasons,” his lordship interrupted him harshly. “I am on the point of sailing and I have not the time. The Governor will hear you, and no doubt deal justly by you.” He waved to Major Mallard, and Bishop, a crumpled, broken man, allowed himself to be led away.
To Lord Julian, who went with him, since none deterred him, Bishop expressed himself when presently he had sufficiently recovered.
“This is one more item to the account of that scoundrel Blood,” he said, through his teeth. “My God, what a reckoning there will be when we meet!”
Major Mallard turned away his face that he might conceal his smile, and without further words led him a prisoner to the Governor's house, the house that so long had been Colonel Bishop's own residence. He was left to wait under guard in the hall, whilst Major Mallard went ahead to announce him.