“First, I must comprehend more clearly the nature of the work before me.  The Chevalier de Noyan is already under sentence of death; the hour of execution to-morrow at sunrise?”

She bent her head in quiet acquiescence, her anxious eyes never leaving my face.

“It is now already approaching noon, leaving us barely eighteen hours in which to effect his rescue.  Faith! ’t is short space for action.”

I glanced uneasily aside at the silently observant priest, now standing, a slender gray figure, close beside the door.  He was not of an Order I greatly loved.

“You need have no fear,” she exclaimed, hastily interpreting my thought.  “Father Petreni can be fully trusted.  He is more than my religious confessor; he has been my friend from childhood.”

“Yes, Monsieur,” he interposed sadly, yet with a grave smile lighting his thin white face.  “I shall be able to accomplish little in your aid, for my trade is not that of arms, yet, within my physical limitations, I am freely at your service.”

“That is well,” I responded heartily, words and tone yielding me fresh confidence in the man.  “This is likely to prove a night when comrades will need to know each other.  Now a few questions, after which I will look over the ground before attempting to outline any plan of action.  You say, Madame, that your—­Chevalier de Noyan is a prisoner on the fleet in the river.  Upon which ship is he confined?”

“The ‘Santa Maria.’”

“The ’Santa Maria’?—­if memory serve, the largest of them all?”

“Yes! the flag-ship.”

“She lies, as I remember, for I stood on the levee two hours ago watching the strange spectacle, close in toward the shore, beside the old sugar warehouse of Bomanceaux et fils.”

“You are correct,” returned the Capuchin soberly, the lady hesitating.  “The ship swingeth by her cable scarce thirty feet from the bank.”

“That, at least, has sound of good fortune,” I thought, revolving rapidly a sudden inspiration from his answer, “yet it will prove a desperate trick to try.”

Then I spoke aloud once more.

“She appeared a veritable monster of the sea to my backwoods eyes; enough to pluck the heart out of a man.  Has either of you stepped aboard her?”

The priest shook his shaven head despondently.

“Nay; never any Frenchman, except as prisoner in shackles, has found foothold upon that deck since O’Reilly came.  It is reported no negro boatmen are permitted to approach her side with cargoes of fruit and vegetables, so closely is she guarded against all chances of treachery.”

“Faith! it must be an important crime to bring such extremity of vigilance.  With what is De Noyan charged?”

“He, with others, is held for treason against the King of Spain.”

“There are more than one, then?”

“Five.”  He lowered his voice almost to a whisper.  “Madame de Noyan’s father is among them.”