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 His smile vanished suddenly.

"You are Jock Pearson?" he asked, addressing the trader.

Jock nodded.

"It will be well for you, then, to answer my questions truthfully. I come with the Governor's authority. A young lady, Mistress Jolie Stanwicke, together with Mr. Lachlan McDonald and a hunter named Almayne, joined your party one day's march from Charles Town. Where are they now?"

"May I ask," said Mr. O'Sullivan meekly, "to see the Governor's warrant?"

Falcon whirled on him fiercely.

"And may I ask you, sir," he thundered, "to hold your tongue?"

The small blue eyes in Mr. O'Sullivan's pink face blinked rapidly. He stroked the point of his chin with a chubby white hand.

"I think, sir," he said cheerfully, "that by using my tongue I may save Your Honour considerable fruitless effort. Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that Mistress Jolie Stanwicke and her two companions were riding in our company. Let us suppose that they learned of your approach and decided to give you the slip. Let us suppose, finally, that they left us forthwith, not even pausing to say good-bye. A few miles distant, I am informed, are the great swamps and canebrakes of the Santee. By now, if all I have supposed is true, Mistress Jolie Stanwicke and her friends are in the Santee canebrakes. And by