“It is of that prisoner that I wish to speak to your Grace,” replied Felton.
“Well, then, speak!”
“That which I have to say of her can only be heard by yourself, my Lord!”
“Leave us, Patrick,” said Buckingham; “but remain within sound of the bell. I shall call you presently.”
Patrick went out.
“We are alone, sir,” said Buckingham; “speak!”
“My Lord,” said Felton, “the Baron de Winter wrote to you the other day to request you to sign an order of embarkation relative to a young woman named Charlotte Backson.”
“Yes, sir; and I answered him, to bring or send me that order and I would sign it.”
“Here it is, my Lord.”
“Give it to me,” said the duke.
And taking it from Felton, he cast a rapid glance over the paper, and perceiving that it was the one that had been mentioned to him, he placed it on the table, took a pen, and prepared to sign it.
“Pardon, my Lord,” said Felton, stopping the duke; “but does your Grace know that the name of Charlotte Backson is not the true name of this young woman?”
“Yes, sir, I know it,” replied the duke, dipping the quill in the ink.