Last Pages. Oscar Mandel

had left, closing the door behind her, when Aimée resumed.

      “Here, as I said, is the heart of the matter. My daughter and I have been sent to Sherburne to investigate Colonel William Mayhew and his nephew Nicholas. You look surprised, Judge Weamish.”

      The Judge had in fact opened his mouth wide.

      “Surprised?” he cried, “oh, not I!”

      “Can it be that you entertain no suspicions in that quarter?”

      “I do entertain suspicions. This island is a hatchery of rebels!”

      “That is more than I can say,” said Aimée, looking sharply at the Judge. “My instructions are limited to the two Mayhews. Are they presently on the island?”

      “They are, my lady; indeed, they were seen at the wharf where you and your fair daughter disembarked, looking for their mail. Tell me, Marquise, what are they guilty of? I’ll proceed with every severity known to the law.”

      “Who said they were guilty of anything? I spoke of suspicions. You know of course that Colonel Mayhew fought side by side with Colonel Washington in fifty-nine. And with General Amherst at Montreal in 1760. Fought for the Crown, to be sure, and against us of France. But that is neither here nor there.”

      “Precisely,” said Weamish. “Neither here nor there. And allow me to inform you, Marquise, that Colonel Mayhew has a brother serving at this very moment in the congress of traitors at Philadelphia.”

      “A cousin, I believe.”

      “Though he himself laughs at the matter, babbles about his loyal relations in Boston, and tells the world he has been a peaceful merchant for a dozen years. ‘Mayhew & Mayhew’: a thriving commercial enterprise.”

      “That brings me to the nephew,” said Aimée.

      “Dashing Nicholas!”

      “Yes. Soldier, sailor, captain’s mate on the Lively, but before that, a special commendation by General Forbes in fifty-seven though he was a mere lad. Has killed many a Frenchman and Indian. Sometimes, to be sure, I feel that I am betraying my people by so firmly supporting King George, but these brawls are of long ago, and wounds do heal.”

      “Indeed, indeed,” said Weamish, trying to follow these delicacies of feeling.

      “To the point. It appears that Colonel Washington is to be appointed by the Rebels to a particularly brilliant post of command. This cannot have reached you yet.”

      “I assure you, Marquise, that we receive prompt and accurate intelligence here.”

      “Then you know that the Rebels who now besiege Boston are anxious to enlist capable officers to lead their ragged bands.”

      “They’ll never find them.”

      “Perhaps you will put two and two together. Or, if inconvenient, one and one.”

      “Of course. A terrifying plot—”

      “What terrifying plot?”

      A diversion seemed advisable. The Judge turned to Madeleine.

      “Sugar, mademoiselle?”

      “Thank you,” said Madeleine.

      “You too, mademoiselle, you too no doubt hate rebellion.”

      “I am unable to hate,” replied Madeleine, looking boldly into the Judge’s eyes.

      “Noble words!” Weamish exclaimed. And, turning again to Aimée: “You were saying, Marquise?”

      Aimée sighed. “We believe—that is to say, Governor Gage believes—that Colonel Mayhew and his nephew have both been secretly approached to play a considerable part in the siege of Boston and beyond.”

      “No wonder. The Mayhews, as I intimated just now, are considerable men in Nantucket.”

      “That is precisely why I am ordered to proceed with caution. Before risking a popular uprising, I must have proof, proof, proof that they are plotting to escape from the island. We hope that the rumors are false. My mission here is to take accurate soundings and to instruct you accordingly. Fortunately, if I may repeat myself, as Frenchwomen we are thought to be the Yankees’ natural allies and Britain’s natural enemies. As such, it will be easy for me to make friends with the Mayhew gentlemen, and many others. Living quietly at the inn—what is it called again?”

      “Swain’s Inn, mamma,” said Madeleine.

      “Thank you, my dear. There we shall find occasion to chat with the natives, place a few questions, distribute a trifle of coins, and meet the Mayhews themselves. As the old one’s a widower, and the young one a bachelor, both are sure to be found in a tap room. I expect to have all the facts within a week. Our story will be a simple one. My daughter has not been well. Witness her pallor. New York in summertime is stifling. Our physician has recommended a cure of fresh ocean air, and we have complied. Naturally we have begun by paying our respects to the chief magistrate of the island, but that call is to be understood as purely formal. We must hint left and right at our sympathy with the Whigs and keep our distance from yourself and other Tories.”

      “This is a disappointment for me,” said Weamish, looking at Madeleine. “You land on this poor island of ours—diffusing the radiance of Versailles—music in the gardens—ridottos—rank and fashion—and now you dash all my hopes by telling me that we must be strangers.”

      “I have not been at Versailles since 1758, my dear Judge, the year my husband, may God have mercy on his soul, took his regiment to Canada.”

      “You followed him.”

      “Of course. I am a Fapignac!”

      “Ah!” cried Weamish, looking meaningfully again at Madeleine. “Poor child!”

      “Poor child indeed,” said Aimée; “at the age of three she was fatherless in Canada.”

      “The horrors of war.”

      “The Marquis was carried off by the cold weather.”

      Madeleine was gazing deep into her cup.

      “Bitter, bitter,” said the Judge. “What can I possibly do to comfort you during your stay? Needless to say, I would have offered you my house.”

      “True American courtesy, Judge Weamish. But the neutral ground of Swain’s Inn, where we have been shown fairly comfortable apartments, will be a more favorable place for my mission.”

      “Confortable enough for our islanders, I daresay,” said Weamish. “But, my dear ladies, you cannot conceive what it is for a man of breeding to live among whale-men, Quakers, farmers—with never a ball, a concert, or a play to relieve the tedium. I am—if I may take the liberty of mentioning it—the grandson of a governor.”

      “Governor Saltonstall, is it not?”

      “Yes.”

      “I am told that your mother, Mrs. Weamish, is presently in Boston.”

      “To my sorrow, she is. Nursing her sister and her brother-in-law, both refugees from Cambridge, and sadly come down since their flight.”

      “What is the news from Boston? We have been on board our wretched vessel since Saturday.”

      It was the Judge’s turn to take the upper hand. “Ah Marquise,” he exclaimed, “I am in a position to give you news of capital importance. A magnificent victory at Charlestown.”

      “Under Gage’s command?” cried Aimée happily though only vaguely aware of where the place was.

      “Indirectly, madam. He dispatched General Howe across the bay to give chase to the villains who had occupied the hills overlooking Boston. Their leader, a firebrand named Joseph Warren, was left dead on the field, and the Whiggish dogs were driven from the peninsula licking their desperate wounds.”

      “I