He grunted, and opening his clenched fist, extended to me a little piece of paper, that he had held concealed in his palm.
"Let my brother look at the magic paper," he said. "I found it in the mantle of the pale one."
I took it—only a line. "Be wary and vigilant; he has the nine lives of a cat. Make sure that he does not escape thee this time." No name or address, but I knew the crest on the paper; it was Dunraven's. So this was his work. To be sure I might know his hand; he was a master at such as this.
"Watch them still, Manteo," I said. "At any moment they may try to cut my throat."
Not a muscle of his face moved as he replied: "Manteo will watch."
I walked up upon the deck. Marsden was standing with his back to me, talking to Governor White. At the first sound of my voice he started as though he had been shot.
"I thank thee most sincerely for the noble wine which thou didst send me, Governor," I said. "It was worth a king's ransom."
The Governor smiled gently; plainly he was ignorant of the plot to poison me, and pleased at my praise of his wine.
"'Twas a bottle of some old wine that I bought in Paris years ago. I had forgotten that I had it, until I discovered it a day or two ago, covered by the cobwebs and dust. I thank thee, sir, for thy praise of it," and he bowed.
Marsden, his face ghastly, was still looking at me as though I were a ghost; plainly he had never thought to see me again on earth.