It was much later than I had hoped before I could with decency return to Biloxi. Impatient, childish and excited I recrossed the bay, leaving a little detail of soldiers to watch beside the body of my friend. As soon as I saw Jacques on the other shore I knew something had gone wrong. That senseless knave was pacing uncertainly about the beach, stopping here and there to dig great holes in the sand with his toe, and carefully filling them up again. The fellow, ever on the watch for me, was at the same time watching the path from Biloxi, and seemed to dread my coming. Instead of meeting me at the water, he waited for me to approach him, thus leaving the two boatmen out of hearing. "Well, give me the note; why stand there like a driveling fool," for the fellow's hesitant manner angered and frightened me. "There is no note, sir." "No reply?" "The lady sent none." "Why?" Under my questions Jacques turned red and pale, then he blundered out: "The Chevalier de la Mora said he would bring the answer to you himself--at the shore." He kept his eyes fast riveted upon another hole he was digging in the sand. "The--Chevalier?" I knew what that meant. Great God! and this was the end of it all. "Tell me, you bungling fool, what knows he of this?" "Pardon, Master; I thought no harm of it; you had never before employed me on such an errand." It was now my own turn to seek the ground with my eyes, so just, so humble was the rebuke. "I thought no harm of it, sir, and gave it to Madame in the garden; she called upon the Chevalier to read it for her." "What said he? To her? Was he violent?" "No sir, most polite; terribly polite, and cool; but, master, you must not meet him; he will kill you." Of this I had scant doubt. "Did he make no sign as if he would do her harm?" "No, sir, not then, but he looked so queer one could hardly say what he meditated. I would not care to have him look at me like that." I was paralyzed by the suddenness of the ill-fortune which had befallen, but I was to be allowed no day of grace in which to plan a line of conduct. My face had been turned all this while toward the sea, there being something soothing to me about the long, even sweep of those bright, blue waters in the south. Jacques faced the town. I noted a deprecatory gesture, and following his gaze saw the Chevalier himself coming our way at a good round pace. My knees did quake, and the veriest poltroon might have well been ashamed of the overweening fear which possessed me. In defense of which I may say, I believe it was due in large part to my great respect and fondness for de la Mora, as well as a deep consciousness of the justice of his cause. From long habit I looked first to my weapons, but for once felt no joy in them. "Captain de Mouret," he greeted me with a soldier's formal courtesy. "Chevalier de la Mora." "Captain, I have the honor to return to you a note which I believe bears your name," and he handed me the unfortunate billet.