he current.
Leaning forward, the Captain caught him by the leg, throwing his own
body back in an intense strain of exertion. He lost his footing and
fell. "I must let him go," he thought, "or we shall both be done for."
But the next moment he felt himself flung on the bank, and the tension
on his arms relaxed. The current had thrown the two on the bank and
pursued its own race round the promontory, bereft of its playthings.
Drenched, huddled, hatless, they lay there.

"A very near thing indeed," said the Captain, panting hard and
regarding Paul's motionless body with a grave and critical air of
inquiry. The next moment he fell on his knees by his companion.
"Perhaps he carries a flask--I 've none," he thought, and began to
search Paul's pockets. He found what he sought and proceeded to
unscrew the top.

Paul gasped and grunted. "He 's all right then," said the Captain.
Paul's hand groped its way up to his collar, and made convulsive
clutches. "I 'd better give him a little more room," mused Dieppe, and
laid the flask down for a minute. "Ah, this is a queer cravat! No
wonder he feels like choking. A portfolio! Ah, ah!" He took it out
and pocketed it. Then he forced some brandy down Paul's throat, and
undid his collar and his waistcoat. "A pocket inside the waistcoat!
Very useful, very useful--and more papers, yes! Take a drop, my
friend, it will do you good." Thus alternately ministering to Paul's
bodily comfort and rifling his person of what valuables he carried,
Dieppe offered to the philosophic mind a singular resemblance to a
Finance Minister who takes a farthing off the duty on beer and puts a
penny on the income tax.

The moon was high, but not bright enough to read a small and delicate
handwriting by. The Captain found himself in a tantalising position.
He gave Paul some more brandy, laid down the packet of letters, and
turned to the portfolio. It was large and official in appearance, and
it had an ingenious clasp which baffled Dieppe. With a sigh he cut the
leather top and bottom, and examined the prize.

"Ah, my dear Banque de France, even in this light I can recognise your
charming, allegorical figures," he said with a smile. There were
thirty notes--he counted them twice, for they were moist and very
sticky. There was another paper. "This must be--" He rose to his
feet and held the paper up towards the moon. "I can't read the
writing," he murmured, "but I can see the figures--30,00