I should be left with only the Baron to back me,--the Baron,
who has been whetting his knife for my throat for the last year. Why,
this is what he wants; this is why he brought the prisoner here! Would
you have me walk into his trap? Would you have me sacrifice my men, this
garrison, why, this country even, to save the life of one puny
Englishman, who is probably himself a spy?" He stopped a moment. "Why,
man, you sicken me!" he cried, and he slashed at me with his sword as if
I were a reptile.
I took my own sword, and laid it on the table. "I am a fool," I said,
not for the first time that day. "But how will Frontenac look at your
handing a white man over to torture?"
Cadillac put up his sword. "My orders are plain," he said, tapping a
sheaf of papers on his desk. "They came in the last packet. I am to
treat all prisoners in the Indian manner. As you say, the Indians have
come to think us chicken-hearted. We must give them more than words if
we are to hold them as allies."
I seized sword and hat. "You are a good servant," I said. "I wish you
joy of your obedience," and I plunged toward the door.
But an orderly stopped me on the threshold. "Is Monsieur de la
Mothe-Cadillac within?" he asked.
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