once more all those weary miles which lay
between him and the woman he loved.

CHAPTER XII

Having left his niece and her companions on the Isle of Demons, Roberval
had steered his course for the Hochelaga, and about the middle of June
the rocky heights of Stadacona loomed up before him. His tyrannical
severity on the voyage had made all his men stand in awe of him, and his
lightest word of reproof would make the most dogged villain on his
vessel tremble for his neck. All were indeed glad when the anchors were
dropped off Cap Rouge, and none more so than Roberval himself.

The narrow limits of his vessel's deck had preyed upon his ambitious
spirit; and the horrors of the voyage, caused by his own self-will and
stubbornness, stood before him like a nightmare. Scarcely had the Isle
of Demons sunk from sight on the horizon, when his conscience began to
prick him; and he would have returned for the women whom he had set on
shore, but he feared lest his followers should think that there was in
him the milk of human kindness.

Most of all he dreaded Gaillon. He knew that he had placed himself to a
certain extent at the man's mercy, and that fact alone was enough to
awaken in him a deadly hatred of the cringing scoundrel, who dogged his
footsteps like a shadow. He resolved to get rid of him at the earliest
possible moment; and yet he dreaded to take any steps towards removing
him. He remembered the sudden and mysterious death of the young Picard
sailor; he remembered also Gaillon's offer to rid him silently and
surely of all his enemies. The man was a poisoner, a demon who worked in
the dark, without soul, without honour. On board ship Roberval felt more
or less assured of safety; but as his destination drew nigh he made up
his mind that, once on land, Gaillon must be put out of the way, or he
would not be free one moment from the terror of assassination.

Gaillon himself was quick to divine all that passed in Roberval's mind.
His vigilant eye took notice of the slightest signs which revealed the
nobleman's attitude towards him; but no change in his own manner and
bearing could have been observed, except that he was, if possible, more
servile and obsequious than ever.

Matters were in this state when the vessels passed up the Hochelaga, and
the towering heights of Stadacona loomed up, majestic and strong, before
them. De Roberval's quick eye noted at once what a magnificent place
this would be for headquarters fo