d look in
every half-hour; or as often as the ship's bell told the progress of
time. The object was simply to be certain that the prisoner was in his
room, and that he was making no attempt on his own life; a step that had
been particularly apprehended previously to the respite. Now, the whole
of the dispute between the two Italians, and that which had passed
beneath the ship's channels, did not occupy more than six or seven
minutes; and the little cluster of officers was still gaining recruits,
when Raoul was fairly in the yawl of his own lugger. At this moment the
ship's bell struck the hour of eight. The marine advanced, with the
respect of a subordinate, but with the steadiness of a man on post, to
examine the state of the room. Although the gentlemen believed this
caution unnecessary, the loud voices of Andrea and Vito Viti being of
themselves a sort of guarantee that the prisoner was in his cage, they
gave way to a man, fully understanding that a sentinel was never to be
resisted. The canvas was opened a few inches, the light of the lantern
at the cabin-door shot in, and there sat the vice-governatore and the
podesta, gesticulating and staring into each other's faces, still in hot
dispute; but the place of Raoul Yvard was empty!

Yelverton happened to look into the room with the sentinel. He was a
young man of strong powers of perception, with all the phrenological
bumps that, are necessary to the character, and he saw, at a glance,
that the bird had flown. The first impression was, that the prisoner had
thrown himself into the sea, and he rushed on deck without speaking to
those around him, made a hurried statement to the officer of the watch,
and had a quarter-boat in the water in a surprisingly short time. His
astonished companions below were less precipitate, though the material
fact was soon known to them. Griffin gave a hasty order, and the canvas
bulkhead came down, as it might be, at a single jerk, leaving the two
disputants in full view, utterly unconscious of the escape of their late
companion, sputtering and gesticulating furiously.

"Halloo! vice-govenatore," cried Griffin, abruptly, for he saw that the
moment was not one for ceremony; "what have you done with the
Frenchman?--where is Raoul Yvard?"

"Il Signor Sir Smees? Monsieur Yvard, if you will? Neighbor Vito, what,
indeed, has become of the man who so lately sat _there_?"

"Cospetto!--according to your doctrine, Signor Andrea, there never was a