"You can--to me. If not to me, to no one. You had your chance long ago, and you refused it. You must admit I dealt fairly with you. I did not move till you had set your own trap and fallen into it. Now, if you do not give me the letters--well, you will give them to none else in this world. It has been a fair game, and I am winning now. I've only used means which one gentleman might use with another. Had you been a lesser man I should have had you spitted long ago. You understand?" "Perfectly. But since we have played so long, do you think I'll give you the stakes now--before the end?" "It would be wiser," he answered thoughtfully. "I have a nation behind me," urged I. "It has left you in a hole here to rot." "It will take over your citadel and dig me out some day," I retorted hotly. "What good that? Your life is more to you than Quebec to England." "No, no," said I quickly; "I would give my life a hundred times to see your flag hauled down!" "A freakish ambition," he replied; "mere infatuation!" "You do not understand it, Monsieur Doltaire," I remarked ironically. "I love not endless puzzles. There is no sport in following a maze that leads to nowhere save the grave." He yawned. "This air is heavy," he added; "you must find it trying." "Never as trying as at this moment," I retorted. "Come, am I so malarious?" "You are a trickster," I answered coldly. "Ah, you mean that night at Bigot's?" He smiled. "No, no, you were to blame--so green. You might have known we were for having you between the stones." "But it did not come out as you wished?" hinted I. "It served my turn," he responded; and he gave me such a smiling, malicious look that I knew sought to convey he had his way with Alixe; and though I felt that she was true to me, his cool presumption so stirred me I could have struck him in the face. I got angrily to my feet, but as I did so I shrank a little, for at times the wound in my side, not yet entirely healed, hurt me. "You are not well," he said, with instant show of curiosity; "your wounds still trouble you? They should be healed. Gabord was ordered to see you cared for." "Gabord has done well enough," answered I. "I have had wounds before, monsieur." He leaned against the wall and laughed. "What braggarts you English are!" he said. "A race of swashbucklers--even on bread and water!" He had me at advantage, and I knew it, for he had kept his temper. I made an effort. "Both excellent," rejoined I, "and English too." He laughed again. "Come, that is better. That's in your old vein. I love to see you so. But how knew you our baker was English?--which he is, a prisoner like yourself." "As easily as I could tell the water was not made by Frenchmen." "Now I have hope of you," he broke out gaily; "you will yet redeem your nation." At that moment Gabord came with a message from the Governor to Doltaire, and he prepared to go. "You are set on sacrifice?" he asked. "Think--dangling from Cape Diamond!"