“I do not see that that is any evidence against me,” Richard Horton said.  “In the first place, the man may have been lying.  In the second place, unless he mentioned my name, why am I suspected more than any other officer?  And, even if he did mention my name, my word is surely as good as that of a Canadian prisoner.  It is probable that the man was released by one of the crew—­some man, perhaps, who owed me a grudge—­who told him to say that it was I who freed him, in hopes that some day this outrageous story might get about.”

“Your suggestions are plausible, Mr. Horton,” the admiral said coldly.  “Unfortunately, it is not on the word of this Canadian that we have to depend.

“There, sir,” he said, holding out the letter; “there is the chief witness against you.  Captain Peters instantly recognized your handwriting, as Mr. Middleton had done before him.”

Richard Horton stood gazing speechlessly at the letter.  So confounded was he, by the unexpected production of this fatal missive, that he was unable to utter a single word of explanation or excuse.

“Lay your sword on the table, sir,” the admiral said, “and retire to your cabin, where you will remain, under close arrest, till a court martial can be assembled.”

Richard Horton unbuckled his sword and laid it on the table, and left the cabin without a word.

“It would have been better to send a guard with him,” Captain Peters said; “he might jump overboard, or blow his brains out.”

“Quite so, Peters,” the admiral said.  “The very thing that was in my mind, when I told him to retire to his cabin—­the very best thing he could do, for himself and for the service.  A nice scandal it would be, to have to try and hang a naval officer for treachery.

“I am sure you agree with me, general?”

“Thoroughly,” the general said.  “Let him blow his brains out, or desert; but you had best keep a sharp lookout that he does not desert at present.  After we have once effected our landing, I should say keep as careless a watch over him as possible; but don’t let him go before.  It is bad enough that the French know that Captain Walsham went ashore for the purpose of discovering a landing place; but it would be worse were they to become aware that he has rejoined the ships, and that he was taken off by a boat within a couple of miles of the spot where we mean to land.”

The admiral was right.  Richard Horton had, when summoned to the cabin, hastily placed a pistol in his bosom, with the intention of blowing out his brains, should he find that the discovery he dreaded had been made.  Had the marines posted outside the cabin been ordered to accompany him, he would at once have carried his purpose into execution; but, finding himself free, he walked to his cabin, still determined to blow out his brains before morning; but, the impulse once past, he could not summon up resolution to carry his resolve into effect.  He would do it, he said to himself, before the court martial came on.  That would be time enough.