"Sure, you knew a vessel came from America last night. Well, in her was
one that was called the Queen of Ireland long ago."

"Queen of Ireland--well, what then?" Dyck's voice was tuneless, his
manner rigid, his eyes burning. "Well, she--Miss Sheila Llyn and her
mother are going to the Salem Plantation, down by the Essex Valley
Mountain. It is her plantation now. It belonged to her uncle, Bryan
Llyn. He got it in payment of a debt. He's dead now, and all his lands
and wealth have come to her. Her mother, Mrs. Llyn, is with her, and
they start to-morrow or the next day for Salem. There'll be different
doings at Salem henceforward, y'r honour. She's not the woman to see
slaves treated as the manager at Salem treated 'em."

Dyck Calhoun made an impatient gesture at this last remark.

"Yes, yes, Michael. Where are they now?"

"They're at Charlotte Bedford's lodgings in Spanish Town. The governor
waited on them this morning. The governor sent them flowers and--"

"Flowers--Lord Mallow sent them flowers! Hell's fiend, man, suppose he
did?"

"There are better flowers here than in any Spanish Town."

"Well, take them, Michael; but if you do, come here again no more while
you live, for I'll have none of you. Do you think I'm entering the lists
against the king's governor?"

"You've done it before, sir, and there's no harm in doing it again. One