“Monsieur de Tonty,” he said, “I would have private word with you.”
“When I help De Artigny to his bed, and have look at his wound. Yet is it not matter of interest to these as well?”
“I take it so.”
“Then speak your message––M. Cassion is dead?”
“The sentry’s bullet found his heart, Monsieur.”
“I saw him fall. Those papers were upon him––are they of value?”
“That I know not; they possess no meaning to me, but they were addressed to the man killed at St. Ignace.”
“Hugo Chevet?” I exclaimed. “My uncle; may I not see them, Monsieur?”
De Tonty placed them in my hands––a letter from a lawyer in Quebec, with a form of petition to the King, and a report of his search of the archives of New France. The other document was the sworn affidavit of Jules Beaubaou, a clerk of records, that he had seen and read a paper purporting to be a restoration from the King to the heirs of Captain la Chesnayne. It was signed and sealed. I looked up at the faces surrounding me; startled and frightened at this witness from the dead.
“They are papers belonging to Chevet?” asked De Tonty.