The Sun of Quebec | Page 8

it
became so vivid that the others were glad to fall silent and listen to him,
though Robert himself was unconscious of the fact. They made him
relate once more his story of the battle as he saw it from inside the
French lines at Ticonderoga, and, just as he came to the end of the tale,
he caught a glimpse of a tall man entering the tavern.
"Tell us what you saw from the other side," he said to Grosvenor, and
they compelled the reluctant Englishman to talk. Then Robert turned
his eyes toward the tall man who was now sitting at a small table in the
corner and drinking from a long glass. Something familiar in his walk
had caught his attention as he came in, and, under cover of Grosvenor's
talk, he wished to observe him again without being noticed even by his
own comrades.
The stranger was sitting with the side of his face to Robert, and his
features were not well disclosed. His dress was that of a seafaring man,
rough but rather good in texture, and a belt held a long dirk in a
scabbard which was usual at that time. The hand that raised the long
glass to his lips was large, red and powerful. Robert felt that his first
belief was correct. He had seen him before somewhere, though he
could not yet recall where, but when he turned his head presently he
knew. They had met under such circumstances that neither was ever
likely to forget time or place.
He was amazed that the stranger had come so boldly into Albany, but
second thought told him that there was no proof against him, it was

merely Robert's word against his. Among people absorbed in a great
war his own story would seem wildly improbable and the stranger's
would have all the savor of truth. But he knew that he could not be
mistaken. He saw now the spare face, clean shaven, and the hard eyes,
set close together, that he remembered so well.
Robert did not know what to do. He listened for a little while to
Grosvenor's narrative but his attention wandered back to the seafaring
man. Then he decided.
"Will you fellows talk on and excuse me for a few minutes?" he said.
"What is it, Lennox?" asked Colden.
"I see an acquaintance on the other side of the room. I wish to speak to
him."
"That being the case, we'll let you go, but we'll miss you. Hurry back."
"I'll stay only a few minutes. It's an old friend and I must have a little
talk with him."
He walked with light steps across the room which was crowded,
humming with many voices, the air heavy with smoke. The man was
still at the small table, and, opposite him, was an empty chair in which
Robert sat deliberately, putting his elbows on the table, and staring into
the hard blue eyes.
"I'm Peter Smith," he said. "You remember me?"
There was a flicker of surprise in the Captain's face, but nothing more.
"Oh, yes, Peter," he said. "I know you, but I was not looking for you
just at this moment."
"But I'm here."
"Perhaps you're coming back to your duty, is that it? Well, I'm glad.
I've another ship now, and though you're a runaway seaman I can

afford to let bygones be bygones."
"I hope your vessel has changed her trade. I don't think I'd care to sail
again on a slaver."
"Always a particular sort of chap you were, Peter. It's asking a lot for
me to change the business of my ship to suit you."
"But not too much."
The conversation was carried on in an ordinary tone. Neither raised his
voice a particle. Nobody took any notice. His own comrades, engrossed
in lively talk, seemed to have forgotten Robert for the moment, and he
felt that he was master of the situation. Certainly the slaver would be
more uncomfortable than he.
"I was wondering," he said, "how long you mean to stay in Albany."
"It's a pleasant town," said the man, "as I have cause to know since I've
been here before. I may remain quite a while. Still, I shall decide
wholly according to my taste."
"But there is a certain element of danger."
"Oh, the war! I don't think the French even if they come to Albany will
have a chance to take me."
"I didn't have the war in mind. There are other risks of which I think
that I, Peter Smith, who sailed with you once before ought to warn
you."
"It's good of you, Peter, to think so much of my safety, but I don't
believe I've any cause for fear. I've always been able to take care of
myself."