Jessica. When he had finished, Iberville said: "She kept the letter, you
say?"

Perrot nodded, and drew the ring from a pouch which he carried. "I have
kept it safe," he said, and held it out. Iberville took it and turned it
over in his hand, with an enigmatical smile. "I will hand it to her
myself," he said, half beneath his breath.

"You do not give her up, monsieur?"

Iberville laughed. Then he leaned forward, and found Perrot's eyes in
the half darkness. "Perrot, she kept the letter, she would have kept the
ring if she could. Listen: Monsieur Gering has held to his word; he has
come to seek me this time. He knows that while I live the woman is not
his, though she bears his name. She married him--Why? It is no matter
--he was there, I was not. There were her father, her friends! I was a
Frenchman, a Catholic--a thousand things! And a woman will yield her
hand while her heart remains in her own keeping. Well, he has come.
Now, one way or another, he must be mine. We have great accounts
to settle, and I want it done between him and me. If he remains in the
ship we must board it. With our one little craft there in the St.
Charles we will sail out, grapple the admiral's ship, and play a great
game: one against thirty-four. It has been done before. Capture the
admiral's ship and we can play the devil with the rest of them. If not,
we can die. Or, if Gering lands and fights, he also must be ours.
Sainte-Helene and Maricourt know him, and they with myself, Clermont, and
Saint Denis, are to lead and resist attacks by land--Frontenac has
promised that: so he must be ours one way or another. He must be
captured, tried as a spy, and then he is mine--is mine!"