They tell me he is a good swordsman."
The governor flushed. "He told you that, did he?"
"No, no, your honour, never. He told me naught. He does not boast.
He's as modest as a man from Virginia. He does not brag at all."
"Who told you, then?"
"Ah, well, I heard it in the town! They speak of him there. They all
know that Kingston and Spanish Town, and all the other places, would have
been French by now, if it hadn't been for him. Oh, they talk a lot about
him in Kingston and thereabouts!"
"What swordsmanship do they speak of that was remarkable?"
"Has your honour forgotten, then? Sure, seven years is a poor limit for
a good memory." The blow was a shrewd one, for Darius Boland knew that
Phoenix Park must be a galling memory to his honour. But Darius did not
care. He guessed why the governor was coming to Salem, and he could not
shirk having his hand in it. He had no fear of the results.
"Aye, seven years is a poor limit," he repeated.
The governor showed no feeling. He had been hit, and he took it as part
of the game. "Ah, you mean the affair in Phoenix Park?" he said with no
apparent feeling.
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