until another week had completed its round. The queue,
therefore, was disposed of under the wig in the best manner that its
shape and solidity would allow.

Ithuel was left in the fore-cabin, and his presence was announced to
Cuffe.

"It's no doubt some poor devil belonging to the Few-Folly's crew,"
observed the English Captain, in a rather compassionate manner, "and we
can hardly think of stringing _him_ up, most probably for obeying an
order. That would never do, Griffin: so we'll just step out and overhaul
his log in French, and send him off to England to a prison-ship, by the
first return vessel."

As this was said, the four in the after-cabin left it together and stood
before this new prisoner. Of course Ithuel understood all that was said
in English, while the very idea of being catechized in French threw him
into a cold sweat. In this strait the idea suddenly crossed his mind
that his greatest security would be in feigning dumbness.

"_Ecoutez, mon ami_" commenced Griffin, in very respectable
English-French, "you are to tell me nothing but the truth, and it may be
all the better for you. You belong to the Feu-Follet, of course?"

Ithuel shook his head in strong disgust and endeavored to make a sound
that he intended to represent a dumb man struggling to utter the
word "Napoli."

"What is the fellow after, Griffin?" said Cuffe. "Can it be he doesn't
understand French? Try him a touch in Italian, and let us see what he
will say to that."

Griffin repeated very much what he had said before, merely changing the
language, and received the same gagging sounds for an answer. The
gentlemen looked at each other, as much as to express their surprise.
But, unluckily for Ithuel's plan, he had brought with him from the
Granite State a certain propensity to pass all the modulations of his
voice through his nose; and the effort to make a suppressed sound
brought that member more than usually into requisition, thereby
producing a certain disagreeable combination that destroyed everything
like music that commonly characterizes the Italian words. Now, Andrea
had been struck with this peculiarity about the tones of the American's
voice, in the interview at Benedetta's wine-house; and the whole
connection between Raoul and this singular person being associated in
his mind, the truth flashed on him, as it might be, at a glance. His
previous success that night emboldened the worthy vice-governatore, and,
without any remark,