But words were not necessary. What he desired above all
things was a glimpse of this Frenchman's face. After several minutes
Breitmann went aft. M. Ferraud stepped out cautiously, and luck was
with him. The sailor to whom Breitmann had spoken so earnestly was
lolling against the rail, in the act of lighting a cigarette. The
light from the match was feeble, but it sufficed the keen eyes of the
watcher. He gasped a little. Strong hands indeed! Here in the garb
of a common sailor, was one of the foremost Orleanists in France!

CHAPTER XVII

A QUESTION FROM KEATS

Breitmann and the admiral usually worked from ten till luncheon, unless
it was too stormy; and then the admiral took the day off. The business
under hand was of no great moment; it was rather an outlet for the
admiral's energy, and gave him something to look forward to as each day
came round. Many a morning he longed for the quarter-deck of his old
battle-ship; the trig crew and marines lined up for inspection; the
revelries of the foreign ports; the great manoeuvres; the target
practice. Never would his old heart swell again under the full-dress
uniform nor his eyes sparkle under the plume of his rank. He was
retired on half-pay. Only a few close friends knew how his half-pay
was invested. There remained perhaps ten of the old war-crew, and
among them every Christmas the admiral's half-pay was divided. This
and his daughter were the two unalloyed joys of his life.

Since his country had no further use for him, and as it was as
necessary as air to his lungs that he tread the deck of a ship, he had
purchased the _Laura_; and, when he was not stirring up the bones of
dead pirates, he was at Cowes or at Brest or at Keil or on the Hudson,
wherever the big fellows indulged in mimic warfare.

"That will be all this morning, Mr. Breitmann," he said, rising and
looking out of the port-hole.

"Very well, sir. I believe that by the time we make Corsica we shall
have the book ready for the printers. It is very interesting."

"Much obliged. You have been a good aid. As you know, I am writing
this rubbish only because it is play and passable mental exercise."

"I do not agree with you there," returned the secretary, with his
pleasant smile. "The book will be really a treasure of itself. It is
far more interesting than any romance."

The admiral shook his head dubiously.

"No, no," Breitmann averred. "There is no flattery in what I say.
F