sat thinking.

It was near an hour before we heard footsteps outside; then came a
knock, and Voban was shown in.

"Quick, m'sieu'," he said. "M'sieu' is almost at our heels."

"This letter," said I, "to Mademoiselle Duvarney," and I handed four:
hers, and those to Governor Dinwiddie, to Mr. Washington, and to my
partner.

He quickly put them in his coat, nodding. The soldier--I have not yet
mentioned his name--Gabord, did not know that more than one passed into
Voban's hands.

"Off with your coat, m'sieu'," said Voban, whipping out his shears,
tossing his cap aside, and rolling down his apron. "M'sieu' is here."

I had off my coat, was in a chair in a twinkling, and he was clipping
softly at me as Doltaire's hand turned the handle of the door.

"Beware--to-night!" Voban whispered.

"Come to me in the prison," said I. "Remember your brother!"

His lips twitched. "M'sieu', I will if I can." This he said in my ear as
Doltaire entered and came forward.

"Upon my life!" Doltaire broke out. "These English gallants! They go to
prison curled and musked by Voban. VOBAN--a name from the court of the
King, and it garnishes a barber. Who called you, Voban?"

"My mother, with the cure's help, m'sieu'."

Doltaire paused, with a pinch of snuff at his nose, and replied lazily,
"I did not say 'Who called you VOBAN?' Voban, but who called you here,
Voban?"

I spoke up testily then of purpose: "What would you have, monsieur? The
citadel has better butchers than barbers. I sent for him."

He shrugged his shoulders and came over to Voban. "Turn round, my
Voban," he said. "Voban--and such a figure! a knee, a back like that!"

Then, while my heart stood still, he put forth a finger and touched
the barber on the chest. If he should touch the letters! I was ready to
seize them--but would that save them? Twice, thrice, the finger prodded
Voban's breast, as if to add an emphasis to his words. "In Quebec you
are misplaced, Monsieur le Voban. Once a wasp got into a honeycomb and
died."

I knew he was hinting at the barber's resentment of the poor Mathilde's
fate. Something strange and devilish leapt into the man's eyes, and he
broke out bitterly,

"A honey-bee got into a nest of wasps--and died."

I thought of the Scarlet Woman on the hill.

Voban looked for a moment as if he might do some wild thing. His spirit,
his devilry, pleased Doltaire, and he laughed. "Who would have thought
our Voban had such wit? The trade of barbe