“That your Excellency intended that both Mr. Temple and Auguste de St. Gre were to escape on that ship.”

“Mille tonneres,” exclaimed the Baron, staring at her, and straightway he fell into a fit of laughter that left him coughing and choking and perspiring as only a man in his condition of flesh can perspire.  To say that I was bewildered by this last evidence of the insight of the woman beside me would be to put it mildly.  The Vicomtesse sat quietly watching him, the wonted look of repressed laughter on her face, and by degrees his Excellency grew calm again.

“Mon dieu,” said he, “I always like to cross swords with you, Madame la Vicomtesse, yet this encounter has been more pleasurable than any I have had since I came to Louisiana.  But, diable,” he cried, “just as I was congratulating myself that I was to have one American the less, you come and tell me that he has refused to flee.  Out of consideration for the character and services of Monsieur Philippe de St. Gre I was willing to let them both escape.  But now?”

“Mr. Temple is not known in New Orleans except to the St. Gre family,” said the Vicomtesse.  “He is a man of honor.  Suppose Mr. Ritchie were to bring him to your Excellency, and he were to give you his word that he would leave the province at the first opportunity?  He now wishes to see his mother before she dies, and it was as much as we could do this morning to persuade him from going to her openly in the face of arrest.”

But the Baron was old in a service which did not do things hastily.

“He is well enough where he is for to-day,” said his Excellency, resuming his official manner.  “To-night after dark I will send down an officer and have him brought before me.  He will not then be seen in custody by any one, and provided I am satisfied with him he may go to the Rue Bourbon.”

The little Baron rose and bowed to the Vicomtesse to signify that the audience was ended, and he added, as he kissed her hand, “Madame la Vicomtesse, it is a pleasure to be able to serve such a woman as you.”

CHAPTER X

THE SCOURGE

As we went through the court I felt as though I had been tied to a string, suspended in the air, and spun.  This was undoubtedly due to the heat.  And after the astonishing conversation from which we had come, my admiration for the lady beside me was magnified to a veritable awe.  We reached the archway.  Madame la Vicomtesse held me lightly by the edge of my coat, and I stood looking down at her.

“Wait a minute, Mr. Ritchie,” she said, glancing at the few figures hurrying across the Place d’Armes; “those are only Americans, and they are too busy to see us standing here.  What do you propose to do now?”

“We must get word to Nick as we promised, that he may know what to expect,” I replied.  “Suppose we go to Monsieur de St. Gre’s house and write him a letter?”