eyes were
insolent and hard. But that, changed almost on the instant. "A good
thrust, mighty Scot," he said. "Now what say you to a pasty, or a strip
of beef cut where the juice runs, and maybe the half of a broiled fowl?"

Morris, imperturbably deliberate, left the room to seek the kitchen.
Bucklaw got instantly to his feet. His eye took in every window and
door, and ran along the ceiling and the wall. There was a sudden click
in the wall before him. It was the door leading to the unused hallway,
which had not been properly closed and had sprung open. He caught up a
candle, ran over, entered the hallway, and gave a grunt of satisfaction.
He hastily and softly drew the bolts of the outer door, so that any one
might come in from the garden, then stepped back into the dining-room
and closed the panel tight behind him, remarking with delight that it
had no spring-lock, and could be opened from the hallway. He came back
quickly to the table, put down the candle, took his seat, stroked his
chin with his hook, and chuckled. When Morris came back, he was holding
his wine with one hand while he hummed a snatch of song and drummed
lightly on the table with the hook. Immediately after came a servant
with a tray, and the Scotsman was soon astonished, not only at the
buxomness of his appetite, but at the deftness with which he carved
and handled things with what he called his "tiger." And so he went on
talking and eating, and he sat so long that Jessica, as she passed into
the corridor and up the stairs, wearied by the day, heard his voice
uplifted in song. It so worked upon her that she put her hands to her
ears, hurried to her room, and threw herself upon the bed in a distress
she could set down to no real cause.

Before the governor and his guests parted for the night, Iberville, as
he made his adieus to Gering, said in a low voice: "The same place and
time to-morrow night, and on the same conditions?"

"I shall be happy," said Gering, and they bowed with great formality.

The governor had chanced to hear a word or two and, thinking it was some
game of which they spoke, said: "Piquet or a game of wits, gentlemen?"

"Neither, your excellency," quoth Gering--"a game called fox and goose."

"Good," said Iberville, under his breath; "my Puritan is waking."

The governor was in ripe humour. "But it is a game of wits, then, after
all. Upon my soul, you two should fence like a pair of veterans."

"Only for a pass or two," said I