The first distinct thought was of
Beverley--that some deadly danger threatened him.
"Who is it?" she frankly demanded.
"It's the Mayor, the big man of your town, Monsieur Roussillon, I
think he calls himself. He's got himself into a tight place. He'll
be shot to-morrow morning if that flag is not produced. Governor
Hamilton has so ordered, and what he orders is done."
"You jest, Monsieur."
"I assure you that I speak the plain truth."
"You will probably catch Monsieur Roussillon before you shoot
him." She tossed her head.
"He is already a prisoner in the fort."
Alice turned pale.
"Monsieur, is this true?" Her voice had lost its happy tone. "Are
you telling me that to--"
"You can verify it, Mademoiselle, by calling upon the commander at
the fort. I am sorry that you doubt my veracity. If you will go
with me I will show you M. Roussillon a tightly bound prisoner."
Jean had crept out of the gate and was standing just behind Alice
with his feet wide apart, his long chin elevated, his head resting
far back between his upthrust shoulders, his hands in his pockets,
his uncanny eyes gazing steadily at Farnsworth. He looked like a
deformed frog ready to jump.
Alice unmistakably saw truth in the Captain's countenance and felt
it in his voice. The reality came to her with unhindered effect.
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