tance to the captain's grave jest
that he interpreted it at once to Monsieur de Gemosac.

"Captain Clubbe," he said, "tells us that he does not need to be
informed that this Loo Barebone is the man we seek. He has long known
it."

Which was a near enough rendering, perhaps, to pass muster in the
hearing of two persons imperfectly acquainted with the languages so
translated. Then, turning again to the sailor, he continued:

"Monsieur de Gemosac would naturally wish to know whether there were
papers or any other means of identification found on the woman or the
child?"

"There were a few papers. The woman had a Roman Catholic Missal in her
pocket, and the child a small locket with a miniature portrait in it."

"Of the Queen Marie Antoinette?" suggested Colville, quickly.

"It may well have been. It is many years since I saw it. It was faded
enough. I remember that it had a fall, and would not open afterward. No
one has seen it for twenty-five years or so."

"The locket or the portrait?" inquired Colville, with a light laugh,
with which to disclaim any suggestion of a cross-examination.

"The portrait."

"And the locket?"

"My wife has it somewhere, I believe."

Colville gave an impatient laugh. For the peaceful air of Farlingford
had failed to temper that spirit of energy and enterprise which he had
acquired in cities--in Paris, most likely. He had no tolerance for quiet
ways and a slow, sure progress, such as countrymen seek, who are so
leisurely that the years slide past and death surprises them before they
have done anything in the world but attend to its daily demand for a
passing effort.

"Ah!" he cried, "but all that must be looked into if we are to do
anything for this young fellow. You will find the Marquis anxious to
be up and doing at once. You go so slowly in Farlingford, Captain. The
world is hurrying on and this chance will be gone past before we are
ready. Let us get these small proofs of identity collected together as
soon as possible. Let us find that locket. But do not force it open.
Give it to me as it is. Let us find the papers."

"There are no papers," interrupted Captain Clubbe, with a calm
deliberation quite untouched by his companion's hurry.

"No papers?"

"No; for Frenchman burnt them before my eyes."

Dormer Colville meditated for a moment in silence. Although his manner
was quick, he was perhaps as deliberate in his choice of a question as
was Captain Clubbe in answering it.