ith precious metal. And the dupe would go
straight to his fellow-conspirators and share his millions. Curious
old world!

They saw Evisa at sunset, one of the seven glories of the earth. The
little village rests on the side of a mountain, nearly three-thousand
feet above the sea, the sea itself lying miles away to the west,
V-shaped between two enormous shafts of burning granite. Even the
admiral forgot his smoldering wrath.

The hotel was neat and cool, and all the cook had to do was to furnish
dishes and hot water for tea. There was very little jesting, and what
there was of it fell to the lot of Coldfield and the Frenchman. The
spirit in them all was tense. Given his way, the admiral would have
gone out that very night with lanterns.

"Folly! To find a given point in an unknown forest at night;
impossible! Am I not right, Mr. Cathewe? Of course. Breitmann's man
knew Aitone from his youth. Suppose," continued M. Ferraud, "that we
spend two days here?"

"What? Give him all the leeway?" The admiral was amazed that M.
Ferraud could suggest such a stupidity. "No. In the morning we make
the search. If there's nothing there we'll return at once."

M. Ferraud spoke to the young woman who waited on the table. "Please
find Carlo, the driver, and bring him here."

Ten minutes later Carlo came in, hat in hand, curious.

"Carlo," began the Frenchman, leaning on his elbows, his sharp eyes
boring into the mild brown ones of the Corsican, "we shall not return
to Carghese to-morrow but the day after."

"Not return to-morrow?" cried Carlo dismayed.

"Ah, but the _signore_ does not understand. We are engaged day after
to-morrow to carry a party to Bonifacio. We have promised. We must
return to-morrow."

Fitzgerald saw the drift and bent forward. The admiral fumed because
his Italian was an indifferent article.

"But," pursued M. Ferraud, "we will pay you twenty francs the day, just
the same."

"We are promised." Carlo shrugged and spread his hands, but the glitter
in his questioner's eyes disquieted him.

"What's this about?" growled the admiral.

"The man says he must take us back to-morrow, or leave us, as he has
promised to return to Ajaccio to carry a party to Bonifacio," M.
Ferraud explained.

"Then, if we don't go to-morrow it means a week in this forsaken hole?"

"It is possible." M. Ferraud turned to Carlo once more. "We will make
it fifty francs per day."

"Impossible, _signore_!"