par.

Gaillon replied with an oath, and an admonition to mind his own affairs,
and let honest men alone.

"Honest men do not skulk in corners and watch other people's doings,"
replied the young fellow, who, however, had only just come on deck, and
was ignorant of the scene between Claude and Marguerite. "Let me catch
you plotting any villainy against the Sieur de Pontbriand, and I will
throw you overboard first, and report afterwards."

Gaillon, seeing that his schemes were likely to be thwarted unless he
exercised some caution, condescended to explain that he had fallen
asleep in his corner, had only just awakened, and was on his way below
to his berth. But as he descended the gangway he cast an evil look
behind him on the young sailor at his post, and vowed that in his own
time and way he would revenge himself upon him.

CHAPTER VII

Another week passed, and with the change of the moon, as the old sailors
on board had prophesied, came also a change in the weather. The wind
rose steadily, and before long the staunch craft was creaking and
groaning as she climbed the ocean billows or slid swiftly down their
steep sides. By the evening of the 24th the wind had increased to a
gale. All the upper sails had been hauled down, and the lower ones
doubly reefed; but still an occasional wave fell with a mighty crash on
the deck, swirled along the sides, and gurgled through the lee scuppers.

At midnight Claude, true to his promise, went on deck. He had, of
course, no expectation of seeing Marguerite, but he had not failed to
keep his word, and be at the appointed spot each night.

The storm was raging when he reached the deck. There was no rain, but
the sky was covered with flying clouds, through which the waning moon
burst fitfully, only to be immediately swallowed up again. The hungry
waves rolled high above the little vessel, and seemed as if they would
overwhelm her; but she gallantly ploughed along, feeling her way like a
thing of life across the trackless waste of waters.

A sailor passed Claude with a cheery "Good-night, Monsieur. A stormy
night!"

As Claude returned his salute he recognised the young Picard, Blaise
Perron, whom he knew well, and who had often performed slight services
for him during his stay at De Roberval's castle. So great was the
loneliness in which his life was plunged just now that he was grateful
for the sound of a friendly voice, and returned the greeting with much
heartiness, a