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'Latimer!' he cried sharply, and added after a breathless pause: 'What is there between you and Latimer?'

Williams hesitated, as if the sharp tone had intimidated him. 'Does your honour know him?'

'I asked you a question,' said the Captain stiffly.

Williams smiled, with a touch of deprecation. 'My answer might offend you, Captain. Maybe he's a friend of yours.'

'A friend of mine!' It was the Captain's turn to laugh, and his laugh was not pleasant. 'D'ye think I have friends among the rebels?'

'Oh, but this one.' Williams turned to his lordship. 'Mr. Latimer is one of the richest planters in the Province, in all the thirteen colonies maybe, and he has a mort of friends among the tories. Why, there's Sir Andrew Carey, of Fairgrove Barony, as red-hot a tory as any man in America, and Latimer is to marry his daughter.'

Mandeville looked at him contemptuously. The fellow was not so well-informed after all.

'That may have been the case. It is so no longer. Sir Andrew is my friend, my kinsman; and I have it from himself that this scoundrel Latimer shall never darken his doorway again. I'll add that I do not know him, that I have never seen him, though his deeds are well enough known to me as they are to Lord William.'