ed his thigh. "Horns of Panurge!"
softly.

"Then you have not. It would be droll if our salvation was
accompanying us to the desert." The vicomte was up and heading toward
D'Herouville.

"Victor, lad," said the Chevalier, "go you and see if there is anything
in the pockets of that grey cloak."

"Well, Monsieur?" said D'Herouville, eagerly.

"There is a ghost upon the ship," replied the vicomte.

"You have secured the papers?"

"Papers?" with elevated brows. "Is there more than one, then?" the
vicomte's tone hardening.

"Paper or papers, it matters not; I was speaking only in a general way."

"Do you recall that when I touched that cloak it gave forth a crackling
sound as of paper?"

"It was paper," said the count impatiently. What was this man
D'Halluys driving at?

"Well, as I said;" and the vicomte twisted the ends of his mustache and
gnawed it between his teeth. "There is a ghost upon this ship. There
was nothing in that pocket, not even a piece of paper as large as your
thumb-nail."

"You lie!" roughly.

Their faces came close together.

"If Monsieur le Chevalier leaves enough of you, Monsieur," said the
vicomte. His tone was gentle. "When I gave you my word it was given
honestly, without reservation. There were no papers in that cloak.
Some one has gone before us, or rather, some one has gone before me.
You spoke of papers: what gave you to believe there was more than one?
Monsieur, is not the lie on your side? Have you not had access to the
Chevalier's room? You say that I lie; is not your own tongue crooked?
Besides, let us not forget the poet, who, while he may be unaware of
the commercial value of that paper, has no less an interest in it. You
have given me the lie: go about your affairs as you please, and I shall
do likewise. When we land, if the Chevalier does not kill you, I will."

"Why?"

"You tell me that I lie."

"Bah! Monsieur, under all circumstances there would be cause for war
between us. Do you not love Madame de Brissac? Heigho! she has given
the motley to us all. Are we not fine fools? It is droll. Well, I
will write the Chevalier's discharge, and you shall go out by the same
order. We are all cats in the bags, and some of us are likely to be
scratched."

"It will be an exciting day, no doubt;" and the vicomte turned on his
heel.

"There was nothing in the pockets of the cloak," said Victor, a while
later.

On the second day of June the Saint La