The general did what he might to hush it up, and paid handsomely to manage it, I daresay. While this was passing, Jonathan had ridden back to Marvel to tell him that all was ready, and to give him his last instructions. His science was a shared secret between them and she felt special to be trusted with them. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath.
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