“You must not ask it, Adele.  It is impossible, child I could not let you stay.”

“But I feel so sure that it would be best.”

The coarser reason of man has not yet learned to value those subtle instincts which guide a woman.  De Catinat argued and exhorted until he had silenced if he had not convinced her.

“It is for my sake, dear.  You do not know what a load it will be from my heart when I know that you are safe.  And you need not be afraid for me.  We can easily hold the place until morning.  Then the people from the fort will come, for I hear that they have plenty of canoes, and we shall all meet again.”

Adele was silent, but her hands tightened upon his arm.  Her husband was still endeavouring to reassure her when a groan burst from the watcher at the window which overlooked the stream.

“There is a canoe on the river to the north of us,” he cried.

The besieged looked at each other in dismay.  The Iroquois had then cut off their retreat after all.

“How many warriors are in it?” asked the seigneur.

“I cannot see.  The light is not very good, and it is in the shadow of the bank.”

“Which way is it coming?”

“It is coming this way.  Ah, it shoots out into the open now, and I can see it.  May the good Lord be praised!  A dozen candles shall burn in Quebec Cathedral if I live till next summer!”

“What is it then?” cried De la Noue impatiently.

“It is not an Iroquois canoe.  There is but one man in it.  He is a Canadian.”

“A Canadian!” cried Du Lhut, springing up to the window.  “Who but a madman would venture into such a hornet’s nest alone!  Ah, yes, I can see him now.  He keeps well out from the bank to avoid their fire.  Now he is in mid-stream and he turns towards us.  By my faith, it is not the first time that the good father has handled a paddle.”

“It is a Jesuit!” said one, craning his neck.  “They are ever where there is most danger.”

“No, I can see his capote,” cried another.  “It is a Franciscan friar!”

An instant later there was the sound of a canoe grounding upon the pebbles, the door was unbarred, and a man strode in, attired in the long brown gown of the Franciscans.  He cast a rapid glance around, and then, stepping up to De Catinat, laid his hand upon his shoulder.

“So, you have not escaped me!” said he.  “We have caught the evil seed before it has had time to root.”

“What do you mean, father?” asked the seigneur.  “You have made some mistake.  This is my good friend Amory de Catinat, of a noble French family.”

“This is Amory de Catinat, the heretic and Huguenot,” cried the monk.  “I have followed him up the St. Lawrence, and I have followed him up the Richelieu, and I would have followed him to the world’s end if I could but bring him back with me.”

“Tut, father, your zeal carries you too far,” said the seigneur.  “Whither would you take my friend, then?”