"Can you send me on that enterprise? Do you bring me news of Colonel Brand?" And madame, with a glance of pity in the passionate eyes, replied: "Yes, I can. When at Key West, a month ago, I saw Colonel Brand driving out with a friend. Does that please you?" Margaret's face was quivering with joy--with a noble triumph; she turned it from those scoffing eyes, and whispered a quiet "Thank God!" CHAPTER XXIX. FOUND AT LAST. Three days afterward a steamer was entering the harbor of Key West. Margaret Walsingham, Madame Hesslein, Mr. Davenport, and the Chevalier de Calembours stood on deck, watching the fair white city grow larger, and breathing the lambent air, which brought upon its wings the perfume of wild roses, orange-trees, and tropic herbs, although the month was yet February. Madame Hesslein had come, she told Margaret, to meet her husband at Key West; but if that were so, she chose a singular method to prepare her mind for the gentle thrill of matrimony. She was drawing the meshes of her secret net slowly round the unwary chevalier, even as yon secret reef enclasped the beautiful isles of summer, and lay in wait to wreck the unsuspicious ship that might carry future cheer to the prisoner. Her witchery, her diablerie was maddening the little man; his customary caution had forsaken him, his intuitive presence of danger was unheeded--he loved the splendid siren. The steamer anchored mid-stream, and waited for the usual fleet of little boats to dart out from the city and to carry the passengers ashore--not a sign of life appeared. At last a signal-gun was fired in answer to their salute; and what was that tiny, fluttering beacon which mounted to a tall flagstaff in the dock-yard? The captain gazing through his glass, grew suddenly silent; his face fell. The passengers, curiously watching the limp, yellow rag, wondered much what it might presage. Presently tiny boat shot out from the cedar-fringed shore, with one man at the oars--a painted toy which moved upon the glassy water like a tiny bird and the man climbed aboard. He was tall, and lank, and yellow-faced; his limbs trembled as he followed the captain to the cabin, and he shunned the passengers with half-fearful looks when they would have questioned him. In three minutes the captain and the stranger emerged from the cabin, and the passengers pressed forward to hear what catastrophe had befallen the city. "We must just right-about face, and get back to New York," said the captain, ominously. "Not a soul can go ashore." "What's up?" asked the gentlemen. "Is it the _plague_?" whispered the ladies. "Yellow fever," said the captain; "the whole city is raging, half the people are escaped to the main land, and the other half are dying." Madame Hesslein's small, eager face grew pale; the chevalier burst into a heartfelt imprecation, and Mr. Davenport clutched the white Margaret's hand with a shocked, "Heaven preserve us!"