"Good evening, Mistress Murray," I said. "I am come with my friend
for a word with your father."
"He is engaged," she answered quickly.
"That may be, but I must speak with him on a matter of much
importance."
"What is that, sir!"
She began to recover her self-possession.
"What interest have you in common!" she added.
"None, save it be to dislike the other," I replied. "But I am
obliged to ask your father for the second time if he condones
assassination in the dark."
Her eyes widened with horror, then darkened with stony anger.
"Sir, you are monstrous impertinent!" she exclaimed. "How dare you
suggest such a thing!"
"Because it occurred a quarter-hour past."
"And because you are assailed by some foot-pad in a disreputable part
of the town, is that a reason for you to charge Master Murray with
assassination!" she demanded with high contempt.
"Oh, I have proof," I said airily.
But my anger grew with hers. It maddened me that this girl, who I
knew was honest, should be arrayed against me, should hold for me the
contempt of a clean woman for a man she deemed a traitor.
"Look you, Mistress Murray," I went on haughtily. "The watch are now
searching for your father's emissary. The garrison are to be turned
out. Any moment Master Murray is like to receive a summons to go
before the governor. He has overplayed his hand this time. He----"
The door behind her opened again, and Murray himself came out.
"I thought I heard voices---- Ah, Master Juggins----"
"Ormerod," I interrupted suavely.
His eyebrows expressed polite astonishment.
"To be sure. Forgive my stupidity. It hath gone so far as that
already, hath it?"
"It hath gone so far as attempted assassination--for the second
time," I retorted.
"Assassination! Tut, tut," he rebuked me. "Master Ormerod, you use
strong language. And who in this little town of ours would seek to
murder a gentleman new-landed like yourself?"
Ta-wan-ne-ars stepped to the front.
"Does Murray know this scalp?"
He permitted an end of the lock of Bolling's hair to show through his
clinched fingers.
Marjory shrank back in terror. Murray's face became convulsed with
passion.
"'Sdeath!" he swore. "If Bolling is dead by this savage's hand I
shall know the wherefore of it! What? Do the Iroquois take scalps
within the city!"
Ta-wan-ne-ars laughed, and slowly opened his fist to reveal the
single lock of hair.
"Ta-wan-ne-ars only takes the scalps of honorable warriors," he said
in his smooth, low-pitched voice. "But the Red Death escaped tonight
by the width of these hairs. Does Murray think Ga-en-gwa-ra-go would
have been angry with Ta-wan-ne-ars if the tomahawk had struck true?"
Murray wiped beads of perspiration from his face.
"So 'twas Bolling!" he muttered. "Curse the knave! What hath he
done?"
"No more than attempted to murder me, sir--as I have attempted to
tell you," I answered ironically.
Marjory came forward, hands clasped in expostulation.
"It isn't so! It can't be so! Tell him he lies, sir!" she pleaded
with Murray.
He put her gently to one side.
"Peace, peace, my dear," he said. "You do not understand."
"But Bolling is the man you called 'Red Jack!'" she expostulated.
"You presented me to him. You told him to be sure to remember my
face. You jested about his hair and his evil looks."
"The man is likewise called 'The Red Death,' Mistress Murray," I said.
She turned to me, tears in her eyes.
"Oh, sir, pray you, do not bait me!" she cried. "I would not believe
you before, but that is the man's hair, beyond a doubt."
"And what if it is?" said Murray kindly, drawing her to him with one
arm. "Is that any reason why you should express shame?"
"But he was one of your people, sir. You told me----"
"Tut, tut, my dear Marjory. You are new to this New World of ours.
The frontier is not like Scotland. We must work with what tools we
find. I say it to my sorrow"--and he said it furthermore without
even the twitch of an eyelid--"I am compelled occasionally to consort
with men I might prefer to do without."
He gave his attention once more to me.
"In a word, Master Ormerod, what hath happened that you approach me
in so hostile a spirit?"
"In a word, Master Murray," I replied, "your man Bolling, or 'The Red
Death,' as he seems to be known in these parts, tried to kill me with
knife and hatchet this evening."
"I am constrained to believe you," he said with an appearance of much
sorrow, "but I can not hold myself responsible, sir."
"It may be that the governor will not be so indulgent," I commented
sarcastically.
Murray drew himself erect.
"Sir," he replied, "as it happens, Bolling quarreled with me this
afternoon in the presence of half a dozen well-known citizens of the
town, and I dismissed him from my service."
"Pardon me," I said with a laugh, "if I express some----"
"Do you step within," he responded with celerity. "I shall be glad
if you will satisfy yourself by questioning witnesses of the dispute.
Marjory, will you----"
"I will stay," she said positively.
He shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. I motioned to Marjory,
and she reëntered first. I walked next, and the Seneca followed me,
one hand resting on his knife-hilt.
Murray shut the door behind us, and I found myself in a large room,
sufficiently lighted by candles. Five or six men, who had been
talking at a table, looked up with interest as we came in. One of
them was de Veulle, and I felt rather than saw the massive frame of
Ta-wan-ne-ars gather itself together exactly as does the wildcat when
he sights his quarry.
The others I did not know. Murray introduced them by names which
meant nothing to me, but later Ta-wan-ne-ars told me they were
respectable merchants identified with the faction in the province who
were hostile to Governor Burnet, and all were for the closest trade
relations with Canada.
These men greeted us civilly enough, and gave most of their attention
to Ta-wan-ne-ars. De Veulle acknowledged the meeting by a smile that
was tinged with mockery. Our clash came when Murray turned to me,
after recounting my errand, and said:
"Your companion is evidently a chief, Master Ormerod. Will you
identify him?"
Before I could say anything Ta-wan-ne-ars responded for himself.
"I am Ta-wan-ne-ars, of the Clan of the Wolf, war-chief of the
Senecas, and nephew to Do-ne-ho-ga-weh, the Guardian of the Western
Door of the Long House."
He spoke directly to de Veulle, and the Frenchman's eyes shifted from
his level glance.
"Must we have an Indian present?" he muttered. "This is a white
man's affair."
"As it happens, this Indian saved my life from a white man's knife,"
I replied quickly. "He is my brother. I would rather have him here
than a woman-stealer."
But I had reckoned without Marjory. She took the situation out of my
hands.
"Sir," she said, "you seem to delight in slandering gentlemen who are
not disloyal to their faiths. I beseech you, have done. 'Tis a
sorry business, and gains naught for you. Get forward with what
brought you here."
I marked the relief that shone in de Veulle's eyes. I marked, too,
the penetrating glance which Ta-wan-ne-ars bent upon her face. For
myself, although I felt sick at heart, I said nothing. There was
nothing which I could say.