the galleys."

"That's as true, M'sieur Mueller, as that God is in heaven," said the
model, emphatically.

"Then I can prove it without your testimony--I can prove it by simply
summoning any of the Toulon authorities to identify him."

"Or by stripping his shirt off his back, and showing the brand on his
left shoulder," said Guichet. "There you'll find it, T.F. as large as
life--and if it don't show at first, just you hit him a sharp blow with
the flat of your hand, M'sieur Mueller, and it will start out as red and
fresh as if it had been done only six months ago. _Parbleu!_ I remember
the day he came in, and the look in his face when the hot iron hissed
into his flesh! They roar like bulls, for the most part; but he never
flinched or spoke. He just turned a shade paler under the tan, and
that was all."

"Do you remember what his crime was?" asked Mueller

Guichet shook his head.

"Not distinctly," he said. "I only know that he was in for a good deal,
and had a lot of things proved against him on his trial. But you can
find all that out for yourself, easily enough. He was tried in Paris,
about fourteen years ago, and it's all in print, if you only know where
to look for it."

"Then I'll find it, if I have to wade through half the Bibliotheque
Nationale!" said Mueller. "Adieu, Guichet--you have done me a great
service, and you may be sure I will do nothing to betray you. Let us
shake hands upon it."

The color rushed into the model's swarthy cheeks.

"_Comment_, M'sieur Mueller!" he said, hesitatingly. "You offer to shake
hands with me--after what I have told you?"

"Ten times more willing than before, _mon ami_," said Mueller. "Did I not
tell you just now that I respected you for having redeemed that past,
and shall I not give my hand where I give my respect?"

The model grasped his outstretched hand with a vehemence that made
Mueller wince again.

"Thank you," he said, in a low, deep voice. "Thank you. Death of my
life! M'sieur Mueller, I'd go to the galleys again for you, after
this--if you asked me."

"Agreed. Only when I do ask you, it shall be to pay a visit of ceremony
to Monsieur Bras de Fer, when he is safely lodged again at Toulon with a
chain round his leg, and a cannon-ball at the end of it."

And with this Mueller turned away laughingly, and I followed him down the
dimly-lighted stairs.

"By Jove!" he said, "what a grip the fellow gave me! I'd as soon shake
hands with the Commendatore in