“Monsieur de St. Gre,” I said, “I understood you to say that a ship is lying at the English Turn some five leagues below us, on which you are to take passage at once.”

He turned and glared at me, some devilish retort on his lips which he held back.  Suddenly he became suave.

“I shall want two thousand livres Monsieur; it was the sum I asked for.”

“It is not a question of what you asked for,” I answered.

“Since when did Monsieur assume this intimate position in my family?” he said, glancing at the Vicomtesse.

“Monsieur de St. Gre,” I replied with difficulty, “you will confine yourself to the matter in hand.  You are in no situation to demand terms; you must take or leave what is offered you.  Last night the man called Gignoux, who was of your party, was at the Governor’s house.”

At this he started perceptibly.

“Ha, I thought he was a traitor,” he cried.  Strangely enough, he did not doubt my word in this.

“I am surprised that your Father’s house has not been searched this morning,” I continued, astonished at my own moderation.  “The sentiments of the Baron de Carondelet are no doubt known to you, and you are aware that your family or your friends cannot save you if you are arrested.  You may have this money on two conditions.  The first is that you leave the province immediately.  The second, that you reveal the whereabouts of Mr. Nicholas Temple.”

“Monsieur is very kind,” he replied, and added the taunt, “and well versed in the conduct of affairs of money.”

“Does Monsieur de St. Gre accept?” I asked.

He threw out his hands with a gesture of resignation.

“Who am I to accept?” he said, “a fugitive, an outcast.  And I should like to remind Monsieur that time passes.”

“It is a sensible observation,” said I, meaning that it was the first.  His sudden docility made me suspicious.  “What preparations have you made to go?”

“They are not elaborate, Monsieur, but they are complete.  When I leave you I step into a pirogue which is tied to the river bank.”

“Ah,” I replied.  “And Mr. Temple?”

Madame la Vicomtesse smiled, for Auguste was fairly caught.  He had not the astuteness to be a rogue; oddly he had the sense to know that he could fool us no longer.

“Temple is at Lamarque’s,” he answered sullenly.

I glanced questioningly at the Vicomtesse.

“Lamarque is an old pensioner of Monsieur de St. Gre’s,” said she; “he has a house and an arpent of land not far below here.”

“Exactly,” said Auguste, “and if Mr. Ritchie believes that he will save money by keeping Mr. Temple in Louisiana instead of giving him this opportunity to escape, it is no concern of mine.”

I reflected a moment on this, for it was another sensible remark.

“It is indeed no concern of yours,” said Madame la Vicomtesse.

He shrugged his shoulders.