"
Dillon burst out laughing, too.
"True for you, Rupert. Figures were never in my line, except it is
such a neat figure as Maria has. Ah, Rupert! I always thought you a
nice lad; but how you managed not to fall in love with her, though
she was a year or so older than yourself, beats Pat Dillon
entirely. Now the sooner the campaign is over, and the army goes
into winter quarters, the better I shall be pleased."
It was a dark and squally evening in November, when La Belle
Jeanne, one of the fastest luggers which carried on a contraband
trade between England and France, ran up the river to Nantes. She
had been chased for twelve hours by a British war ship, but had at
last fairly outsailed her pursuers, and had run in without mishap.
On her deck were two passengers; Maitre Antoine Perrot, a merchant,
who had been over to England to open relations with a large house
who dealt in silks and cloths; and his servant Jacques Bontemps,
whose sturdy frame and powerful limbs had created the admiration of
the crew of the Belle Jeanne.
An hour later the lugger was moored against the quay, her crew had
scattered to their homes, and the two travellers were housed in a
quiet cabaret near, where they had called for a private room.
Half an hour later Maitre Perrot left the house, inquired the way
to the governor's residence, left a letter at the door, and then
returned to the cabaret. At nine o'clock a cloaked stranger was
shown into the room.
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