"Jasper Suggs? I don't recall the name."

"Well, she says this feller Suggs that's been stayin' at Martin's cabin fer a week er two claims to have lived there some twenty odd years ago. Guess you must ha' been too small to recollect him.

She says he sort of brags about bein' a renegade durin' the war an' fightin' on the side of the Injins up along the Lakes. He's a nasty customer, she says. Claims to be a relation of old Simon Girty's,--nephew er something like that."

"Does he claim to have known any of my family down there?" inquired Kenneth, apprehensively.

"From what Moll says he must have knowed your pa. Leastwise, he says the name's familiar. He was sayin' only a day or two ago that he'd like to see a picter of your pa. He'd know if it was the same feller he used to know soon as he laid eyes on it."

Kenneth pondered a moment and then said: "Do you suppose you could get a letter to Moll Hawk if I were to write it, Stain?"

"I could," said the other, "but it wouldn't do any good. She cain't read er write. Besides, if I was you, I wouldn't risk anything like that. It might fall into Hawk's hands, and the fust thing he would do would be to turn it over to Lapelle,--'cause Martin cain't read himself."

"I was only wondering if she could find out a little more about this man Suggs,--just when he lived there and--and all that."

"He's purty close-mouthed, she says. Got to be, I reckon. He fell in with Martin ten er twelve years ago, an' there was a price on his head then. Martin hid him for awhile an' helped him to git safe away. Like as not Suggs ain't his real name anyhow."

Kenneth was a long time in deciding to speak to Rachel Gwyn about the man Suggs. He found an opportunity to accost her on the day that the Paul Revere came puffing up to the little log-built landing near the ferry. Viola had left the house upon learning that the boat had turned the bend in the river two or three miles below town, and had made no secret of her intention to greet Lapelle when he came ash.o.r.e. This was Gwynne's first intimation that she was aware of her lover's plan to return by the Paul Revere. He was distinctly annoyed by the discovery.

Rachel was in her back yard, feeding the chickens, when he came up to the fence and waited for her to look in his direction. All week,--in fact, ever since he had come up there to live,--he had been uncomfortably conscious of peering eyes behind the curtains in the parlor window. Time and again he had observed a slight flutter when he chanced to glance that way, as of a sudden release of the curtains held slightly apart by one who furtively watched from within. On the other hand, she never so much as looked toward his house when she was out in her own yard or while pa.s.sing by on the road. Always she was the straight, stern, unfriendly figure in black, wrapped in her own thoughts, apparently ignorant of all that went on about her.

She turned at last and saw him standing there.

"May I have a word with you?" he said.

She did not move nor did she speak for many seconds, but stood staring hard at him from the shade of her deep black bonnet.

"What is it you want, Kenneth Gwynne?"

"No favour, you may be sure, Rachel Carter."

She seemed to wince a little. After a moment's hesitation, she walked slowly over to the fence and faced him.

"Well?" she said curtly.

"Do you remember a man at home named Jasper Suggs?"

"Are you speaking of my old home in Salem or of--of another place?"

"The place where I was born," he said, succinctly.

"I have never heard the name before," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"There is a man in this neighbourhood,--a rascal, I am told,--who says he lived there twenty years ago."

She eyed him narrowly. "Well,--go on! What has he to say about me?"

"Nothing, so far as I know. I have not talked with him. It came to me in a roundabout way. He is staying with a man named Hawk, down near the Wea." "He keeps pretty company," was all she said in response to this.

"I have been told that he would like to see a daguerreotype of my father some time, just to make sure whether he was the Gwynne he used to know."

"Has he ever seen you, Kenneth Gwynne?" She appeared to be absolutely unconcerned.

"No."

"One look at you would be sufficient," she said. "If you are both so curious, why not arrange a meeting?"

"I am in no way concerned," he retorted. "On the other hand, I should think you would be vitally interested, Rachel Carter. If he knew my father, he certainly must have known you."

"Very likely. What would you have me do?" she went on ironically.

"Go to him and beg him to be merciful? Or, if it comes to the worst, hire some one to a.s.sa.s.sinate him?"

"I am not thinking of your peace of mind. I am thinking of Viola's.

We have agreed, you and I, to spare her the knowledge of--"

"Quite true," she interrupted. "You and I have agreed upon that, but there it ends. We cannot include the rest of the world. Chance sends this man, whoever he may be, to this country. I must likewise depend upon Chance to escape the harm he may be in a position to do me. Is it not possible that he may have left before I came there to live? That chance remains, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted. "It is possible. I can tell you something about him. He is related to Simon Girty, and he was a renegade who fought with the Indians up north during the war. Does that throw any light upon his ident.i.ty?"

"He says his name is Suggs?" she inquired.

He was rewarded by a sharp catch in her breath and a pa.s.sing flicker of her eyes.

"Jasper Suggs."

She was silent for a moment. "I know him," she said calmly. "His name is Simon Braley. At any rate, there was a connection of Girty's who went by that name and who lived down there on the river for a year or two. He killed the man he was working for and escaped.

That was before I--before I left the place. I don't believe he ever dared to go back. So, you see, Chance favours us again, Kenneth Gwynne."

"You forget that he will no doubt remember you as Rachel Carter.

He will also remember that you had a little girl."

"Let me remind you that I remember the cold-blooded murder of John Hendricks and that n.o.body has been hung for it yet," she said.

"My memory is as good as his if it should come to pa.s.s that we are forced to exchange compliments. Thank you for the information. The sheriff of this county is a friend of mine. He will be pleased to know that Simon Braley, murderer and renegade, is in his bailiwick.

From what I know of Simon Girty's nephew, he is not the kind of man who will be taken alive."

He started. "You mean,--that you will send the sheriff out to arrest him?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly," she replied. "Did you not hear me say that Simon Braley would never be taken alive?"

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him to stare after her until she entered the kitchen door. He was conscious of a sense of horror that began to send a chill through his veins.

CHAPTER XV

THE LANDING OF THE "PAUL REVERE"

The Paul Revere tied up at the landing shortly after two o'clock.