They had reached the office in the rear of the house, and the Major brushed a heap of documents and drawings from a chair.
“Sit down, Menard. You have a long story, I take it. You look as if you’d been to the Illinois and back.”
“You knew of my capture?”
“Yes. We had about given you up. And the girl,––Mademoiselle St. Denis––”
“She is here.”
“Here––at Frontenac?”
“Yes; in Father de Casson’s care.”
“Thank God! But how did you do it? How did you get her here, and yourself?”
Menard rose and paced up and down the 385 room. As he walked, he told the story of the capture at La Gallette, of the days in the Onondaga village, of the council and the escape. When he had finished, there was a long silence, while the Major sat with contracted brows.
“You’ve done a big thing, Menard,” he said at last, “one of the biggest things that has been done in New France. But have you thought of the Governor––of how he will take it?”