“Bring me those letters, Easy,” said the governor, “and let us see what they say of him. Here it is—Don Mathias de Alayeres. You may be mistaken, Gascoigne; it’s a heavy charge you are making against this young man.”

“Well, Sir Thomas, if that is not Don Silvio, I’d forfeit my commission if I had it here in my hand. Besides, I observed the change in his countenance when we told him it was Easy and I who had come to Don Rebiera’s assistance; and did you observe after that, Easy, that he hardly said a word?”

“Very true,” replied Jack.

“Well, well, we must see to this,” observed the governor; “if so, this letter of introduction must be a forgery.”

The party then retired to bed, and the next morning, while Easy was in Gascoigne’s room talking over their suspicions, letters from Palermo were brought up to him. They were in answer to those written by Jack on his arrival at Malta: a few lines from Don Rebiera, a small note from Agnes, and a voluminous detail from his friend Don Philip, who informed him of the good health of all parties, and of their goodwill towards him; of Agnes being as partial as ever; of his having spoken plainly, as he had promised Jack, to his father and mother relative to the mutual attachment; of their consent being given, and then withheld because Father Thomas, their confessor, would not listen to the union of Agnes with a heretic; but nevertheless telling Jack this would be got over through the medium of his brother and himself, who were determined that their sister and he should not be made unhappy about such a trifle. But the latter part of the letter contained intelligence equally important, which was, that Don Silvio had again attempted the life of their father, and would have succeeded, had not Father Thomas, who happened to be there, thrown himself between them. That Don Silvio in his rage had actually stabbed the confessor, although the wound was not dangerous. That, in consequence of this, all further lenity was denied to him, and that the authorities were in search of him to award him the punishment due to murder and sacrilege. That up to the present they could not find him, and it was supposed that he had made his escape to Malta, in one of the speronares.

Such were the contents of the letter, which were immediately communicated to the governor and Captain Wilson, upon their meeting at breakfast.

“Very well, we must see to this,” observed the governor, who then made his inquiries as to the other intelligence contained in the letters.

Jack and Gascoigne were uneasy till the breakfast was over, when they made their escape: a few moments afterwards Captain Wilson rose to go on board, and sent for them, but they were not to be found.

“I understand it all, Wilson,” said the governor; “leave them to me; go on board and make yourself quite easy.”

In the meantime our two midshipmen had taken their hats and walked away to the parapet of the battery, where they would not be interrupted.

“Now, Gascoigne,” observed Jack, “you guess what I’m about—I must shoot that rascal this very morning, and that’s why I came out with you.”

“But, Easy, the only difference is this, that I must shoot him and not you; he is my property, for I found him out.”

“We’ll argue that point,” replied Jack: “he has attempted the life of my is-to-be, please God, father-in-law, and therefore I have the best claim to him.”

“I beg your pardon, Jack, he is mine, for I discovered him. Now let me put a case: suppose one man walking several yards before another, picks up a purse, what claim has the other to it? I found him, and not you.”