Octavian,” a voice demands. “Octavian Gitney.”

I do not respond to that name.

“Octavian, have you received any communication from Pro Bono?”

I shook my head.

“He is fled his master in Virginia.”

This is cause for rejoicing; but I do not call it so.

“It is believed that he has fled to the palace of Governor Dunmore of Virginia. We find it a matter for surprise and interest that his flight coincided so closely with your own. Did he at any time advert to such a plan in a letter you might have received? Or did you at any time post a letter to him once he was delivered to his Southern master?”

I could not but shake my head; knowing not where Pro Bono had been this seven months.

“Octavian. You will tell us if there has been some collusion?” When I again did not reply: “Will you relate where he has fled, to the Governor’s mansion or some other retreat?”

Alas, my wretched brother, torn from me so quickly!

Now and forever, hail and farewell.