There was relief in Nason’s voice. “Good! I won’t forget it! Buy what you can and get back here with it as soon as possible. You’d better take Verrieul to do the talking.”

“He won’t need Verrieul,” I said. “I’ll go with him. I’ve got some hard money, too, and I can speak a little French: enough to get food.”

That was how Nathaniel and I happened to cross the Richelieu together, and set off up the slope toward the small farms on the high land. We may have looked fraternal enough, being similar in height and appearance; but there was little brotherly love in the way Nathaniel pressed his lips tight together and stared straight ahead. When we were out of sight of the canoes, he spoke with what might have been indifference. “There’s no need of our staying together. We’ll probably get more if we go separately.”

“Now look here,” I said, “we have no time to waste. I know what’s in your mind. When you got into the chaise in London, that woman with the French name gave you a letter to carry with you to Canada. Do you think I didn’t take note of that, Nathaniel, or have forgotten it?”

Nathaniel’s color heightened. “Well, what of it?”

“This,” I said. “I think your mind’s on that letter now, more than on your duty. To be frank about it, Nathaniel, I’m afraid that if I don’t come with you, you may go out of your way to deliver that letter. As matters stand, I am with you, and our business is to get through to Montreal as quick as we can.”

“I know our business as well as you do,” he said. “I admit I’ve got a letter to deliver. It’s one she wrote that little ward of hers she spoke of. It’s a matter for you not to interfere in, I take it.”

“You take it wrong,” I said. “Why is it you’ve fingered that letter in your pocket so much? Why is it that for days you’ve heard little that was said to you? Why is it you’ve been all along more bent on getting to St. John’s than on getting to Quebec?”

His voice was testy. “What’s wrong in such a note? A note of affection from a kind woman to a young girl! ’Tisn’t a wickedness, is it?”

“We’re wasting time,” I reminded him. “This country’s British, even if we are in it. My mind’s made up: if anybody wants to know where you’ve been in this town, and who you’ve seen, I propose to be able to tell him.”

Nathaniel faced me. “What is it you’re hinting at?”