for much."

"My dear sir," said Rodin, still impassible, "before we continue this
conversation, which appears hitherto tolerably obscure, I must repeat my
wish to be informed to whom I have the advantage of speaking. You have
introduced yourself here under pretext of a commission from Mynheer
Joshua Van Dael, a respectable merchant of Batavia, and--"

"You know the writing of M. Van Dael?" said Faringhea, interrupting
Rodin.

"I know it perfectly."

"Look!" The half-caste drew from his pocket (he was shabbily dressed in
European clothes) a long dispatch, which he had taken from one Mahal the
Smuggler, after strangling him on the beach near Batavia. These papers he
placed before Rodin's eyes, but without quitting his hold of them.

"It is, indeed, M. Van Dael's writing," said Rodin, and he stretched out
his hard towards the letter, which Faringhea quickly and prudently
returned to his pocket.

"Allow me to observe, my dear sir, that you have a singular manner of
executing a commission," said Rodin. "This letter, being to my address,
and having been entrusted to you by M. Van Dael, you ought--"

"This letter was not entrusted to me by M. Van Dael," said Faringhea,
interrupting Rodin.

"How, then, is it in your possession?"

"A Javanese smuggler betrayed me. Van Dael had secured a passage to
Alexandria for this man, and had given him this letter to carry with him
for the European mail. I strangled the smuggler, took the letter, made
the passage--and here I am."

The Thug had pronounced these words with an air of savage boasting; his
wild, intrepid glance did not quail before the piercing look of Rodin,
who, at this strange confession, had hastily raised his head to observe
the speaker.

Faringhea thought to astonish or intimidate Rodin by these ferocious
words; but, to his great surprise, the socius, impassible as a corpse,
said to him, quite simply: "Oh! they strangle people in Java?"

"Yes, there and elsewhere," answered Faringhea, with a bitter smile.

"I would prefer to disbelieve you; but I am surprised at your sincerity
M.--, what is your name?"

"Faringhea."

"Well, then, M. Faringhea, what do you wish to come to? You have obtained
by an abominable crime, a letter addressed to me, and now you hesitate to
deliver it."

"Because I have read it, and it may be useful to me."

"Oh! you have read it?" said Rodin, disconcerted for a moment. Then he
resumed: "It is true, that judging by your mode of p