" replied Lenoir.

"You can clear these English prisoners."

"If I choose to speak."

"If you choose to speak, the English consul will exert all his
influence to procure a mitigation of your sentence--whatever it may
be."

Lenoir nodded.

"But if you do not, why, the whole force of the British Embassy will be
exerted against you; so I fancy your choice will soon be made."

Lenoir sat silent for some minutes.

"Have you made up your mind?" asked the detective at length.

"I don't see why I should speak; they belong to the same cursed country
as that Markby."

"Well, don't you see how nicely things come round? You clear the
prisoners, and by so doing incriminate Markby, _alias_ Murray."

"Aye; but where is he?"

"In Marseilles. I am only waiting for a little more evidence before I
lay my hands on him. He is a slippery customer, and it won't do to
arrest him until the case is complete."

"Then, curse him, I'll tell all--nay, more, if you look in that drawer,
where the pistols are, you know, you will find a note from him to me.
That will be quite as good evidence as my word."

"Good, Lenoir. I can't promise you a free pardon, but I fancy you will
get off lightly."

"I hope I may be sent to the same galley as Murray, _alias_ Markby, has
to serve; and if I am only chained to the same oar I shall be happy."

"Why."

"I will find an early opportunity, and then I will kill him."

"No, Lenoir; that will not be the way to shorten your sentence."

"I'll kill him."

"No; lead him a life of misery and dread while he is chained to the
oar. What you do when you are both released is a matter I have no
present concern with."

"March, then; let us be going."

And the coiner walked gaily away, his anger at being captured having
been replaced by joy, at the hopes of avenging himself on the
treacherous Markby, _alias_ Murray.

Hocquart Clermont Delamarre himself walked arm-in-arm with the coiner,
and the good people of Marseilles knew not that he had been taken.

Even in the gaol he was entered under an assumed name.

The gaoler, who had been in attendance on the English party, could not
understand why his prisoners wrote no more letters to the English
consul or their relatives in England, and Herbert Murray almost
suspected the truth when he chanced, the day after losing the letter,
to look for it.

But Chivey reassured him.

"I went all over your clothes and my own this morning afore you was up,
guv'nor,