And so I would have been by this time, had I not tardily delayed drinking the wine. Would have lain cold and stiff in my agony, with outstretched limbs and staring eyes, for the powerful drug lost no time in accomplishing its deadly work. Rising I took the bottle and glass in my hand, and carrying them to the window, cast them out into the ocean, and as I did so the door opened and the Indian appeared. At one glance he took in the room, my pale face, and the dead cat, as it lay in the middle of the floor. "What is it, my brother?" he asked. "The pale one has poisoned my wine," I answered. "It was only by chance that I discovered it in time; and to make sure, I soaked a piece of meat in the wine and gave it to the cat. Thou canst see the result," and I pointed to the animal. The Indian's eyes flashed. "The pale one shall suffer," he answered, "let not my brother fear. Manteo will, when the time is ripe, bury his hatchet in his skull, and his scalp shall dry in the lodge of Manteo." "Do nothing rash," I said, "the time is not yet ripe." He grunted, and opening his clenched fist, extended to me a little piece of paper, that he had held concealed in his palm. "Let my brother look at the magic paper," he said. "I found it in the mantle of the pale one." I took it--only a line. "Be wary and vigilant; he has the nine lives of a cat. Make sure that he does not escape thee this time." No name or address, but I knew the crest on the paper; it was Dunraven's. So this was his work. To be sure I might know his hand; he was a master at such as this. "Watch them still, Manteo," I said. "At any moment they may try to cut my throat." Not a muscle of his face moved as he replied: "Manteo will watch." I walked up upon the deck. Marsden was standing with his back to me, talking to Governor White. At the first sound of my voice he started as though he had been shot. "I thank thee most sincerely for the noble wine which thou didst send me, Governor," I said. "It was worth a king's ransom." The Governor smiled gently; plainly he was ignorant of the plot to poison me, and pleased at my praise of his wine. "'Twas a bottle of some old wine that I bought in Paris years ago. I had forgotten that I had it, until I discovered it a day or two ago, covered by the cobwebs and dust. I thank thee, sir, for thy praise of it," and he bowed. Marsden, his face ghastly, was still looking at me as though I were a ghost; plainly he had never thought to see me again on earth. "Master Marsden is ill," I said to White. "Perhaps he needs some wine. And now I think of it, there is some of that wine of which we have just been speaking in the bottle. It would help him to quiet his nerves." And I turned as though to go down for it. "No," he murmured, his cheeks like chalk. "It is a mere headache, which I have had all day, and which struck me with a sudden twinge. Do not trouble thyself about the wine, Sir Thomas."