The militiaman said something under his breath as they passed him. I didn’t catch it, but evidently Fergus did. He stiffened, eyes narrowing, and turned back toward the man. The militiaman rocked up onto the balls of his feet, smiling evilly and looking expectant. Clearly he would like nothing better than an excuse to hit Fergus.
To his surprise, Fergus smiled charmingly at him, square white teeth gleaming.
“My thanks,
Then Fergus jerked his arm suddenly backward. There was a brief rip, and a pattering sound, as a small stream of bran struck the parquet floor.
“Keep it,” he told the militiaman graciously. “A small token of my appreciation.” And then they were gone, leaving the man slack-jawed, staring down in horror at the apparently severed hand in his grasp.
It was another hour before the door opened again, this time to admit the Governor. He was still handsome and neat as a white camellia, but definitely beginning to turn brown round the edges. I set the untouched glass of brandy down and got to my feet to face him.
“Where is Jamie?”
“Still being questioned by Captain Jacobs, the militia commander.” He sank into his chair, looking bemused. “I had no notion he spoke French so remarkably well.”
“I don’t suppose you know him all that well,” I said, deliberately baiting. What I wanted badly to know was just how well he
“Can he keep up such an impersonation, do you think?” he asked, frowning, and I realized that he was so occupied with thoughts of the murder and of Jamie that he was paying little, if any, attention to me.
“Yes,” I said shortly. “Where do they have him?” I got up, heading for the door.
“In the formal parlor,” he said. “But I don’t think you should—”
Not pausing to listen, I yanked open the door and poked my head into the hall, then hastily drew it back and slammed the door.
Coming down the hall was the Admiral I had met in the receiving line, face set in lines of gravity suitable to the situation. Admirals I could deal with. However, he was accompanied by a flotilla of junior officers, and among the entourage I had spotted a face I knew, though he was now wearing the uniform of a first lieutenant, instead of an oversized captain’s coat.
He was shaved and rested, but his face was puffy and discolored; someone had beaten him up in the not too distant past. Despite the differences in his appearance, I had not the slightest difficulty in recognizing Thomas Leonard. I had the distinct feeling that he wouldn’t have any trouble recognizing me, either, violet silk notwithstanding.
I looked frantically about the office for someplace to hide, but short of crawling into the kneehole of the desk, there was no place at all. The Governor was watching me, fair brows raised in astonishment.
“What—” he began, but I rounded on him, finger to my lips.
“Don’t give me away, if you value Jamie’s life!” I hissed melodramatically, and so saying, flung myself onto the velvet love seat, snatched up the damp towel and dropped it on my face, and—with a superhuman effort of will—forced all my limbs to go limp.
I heard the door open, and the Admiral’s high, querulous voice.
“Lord John—” he began, and then evidently noticed my supine form, for he broke off and resumed in a slightly lower voice, “Oh! I collect you are engaged?”
“Not precisely engaged, Admiral, no.” Grey had fast reflexes, I would say that for him; he sounded perfectly self-possessed, as though he were quite used to being found in custody of unconscious females. “The lady was overcome by the shock of discovering the body.”
“Oh!” said the Admiral again, this time dripping with sympathy. “I quite see that. Beastly shock for a lady, to be sure.” He hesitated, then dropping his voice to a sort of hoarse whisper, said, “D’you think she’s asleep?”
“I should think so,” the Governor assured him. “She’s had enough brandy to fell a horse.” My fingers twitched, but I managed to lie still.
“Oh, quite. Best thing for shock, brandy.” The Admiral went on whispering, sounding like a rusted hinge. “Meant to tell you I have sent to Antigua for additional troops—quite at your disposal—guards, search the town—if the militia don’t find the fellow first,” he added.
“I hope they may not,” said a viciously determined voice among the officers. “I’d like to catch the yellow bugger myself. There wouldn’t be enough of him left to hang, believe me!”
A deep murmur of approval at this sentiment went through the men, to be sternly quelled by the Admiral.
