ly. The only thing certain is, that they did not
return with him. I have heard wild tales, with I know not how much truth
in them, that he put his niece and her companion ashore at Cape Breton
or Newfoundland, and that De Pontbriand, who could not prevent his
dastardly act, threw himself into the sea, and tried to swim to the
shore, but sank ere he reached it."

Charles swore a great and fearful oath. Then he walked over to the
window, and stood with his back to Cartier, looking out into the street.
When he turned round, his face was twenty years older.

"Where is he?" was all he said.

"Act not rashly," said Cartier gently. "It may be mere rumour. I have
tried to verify the tale, but each time I have heard it, it has been
from some one who was never out of France, and it has been told with so
many variations that I have begun to hope that, after all, it has but a
very small foundation in fact."

"I have known that all was not right," replied Charles, "ever since I
left the Indians at Tadousac. Tell me at once where De Roberval is! I
leave no stone unturned till I have found out the truth. Would to God I
had killed him that night on the Sillon!"

"The last I heard of him was that he was in Picardy," returned Cartier.
"But if there is any truth in the story, you are not likely to hear it
from his lips. He landed in Rochelle. Some of his crew are likely to be
found in that town; and, at all events, you will be able to trace some
of them, and learn the facts before you do anything further."

The advice was undoubtedly wise; nothing could be gained by confronting
Roberval with vague accusations. Without a moment's loss of time La
Pommeraye hastened to La Rochelle; but he could find no trace of any one
who had been with Roberval. The sailors had all gone to sea again; and
those of the colonists who were not already in prison once more were on
their way to the seat of war. To the front also had gone the one or two
gentlemen who were known to have returned from the ill-fated expedition.
Strange as it may seem, Charles could obtain absolutely no more definite
information than the vague reports which he had already heard.

He learned that Roberval had taken a number of his men back to Picardy
with him, and was there doing yeoman service for King Francis. La
Pommeraye had done enough travelling in the past few weeks to exhaust a
man of ordinary strength; but he seemed incapable of fatigue. Once more
his horse was saddled,