CHAPTER XXVIII
THE COURT MARTIAL
De Tonty took the paper from my hand, glanced at it, then lifted his eyes inquiringly to mine.
“’Tis in the governor’s own hand. How came this in your possession?”
“I found it in Cassion’s private bag last night, under the berth yonder. Later he came and carried the bag away, never suspecting it had been opened. His commission was there also. Read it, Monsieur.”
He did so slowly, carefully, seeming to weigh every word, his eyes darkening, and a flush creeping into his swarthy cheeks.
“Madame,” he exclaimed at last. “I care not whether the man be your husband, but this is a damnable conspiracy, hatched months ago in Quebec.”
I bowed my head.
“Beyond doubt, Monsieur.”