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The landing place to which the boat
came was at a considerable distance from
the hotel. They could not distinguish the
features of the persons in the boat. But
they saw a carriage which had been driving
slowly up and down, come to a stop close
by. Two servants descended from it, and
half supported, half carried the gentleman
who had been in the boat, into the vehicle.
The lady followed, and they drove off. The
ship's boat then was pulled back again
towards the squadron, and swiftly diminished
to a mere speck on the waters.

The carriage, however, passed close
beneath the windows of the hotel, and Barletti
gave a little exclamation as he recognised
Paul seated on the box. The blinds of the
carriage were down, and it was impossible to
see its occupants; but Barletti had no doubt
that they were Sir John Gale and Veronica.

"Tiens!" said Barletti. " I know those
people who have just come from the Furieux
Furibonwhat do you call it?"

Mr. Frost was looking at his watch. " I
am sorry to turn you out," he said, " but
I have an appointment with some of our
directors at half past ten. It is a quarter
past ten now. I must be off."

"Nay," replied Barletti, pulling out his
own watch. "You are fast, I think. By my
watch it is only five minutes past ten."

"Ah, you're wrong, prince. If minutes
were as precious with you as they are with
me, you would regulate your watch better.
You reckon your time as rich men reckon
their moneyin large sums: and know
nothing of small subdivisions. But mine
is a working watch, a busy man's watch,
right to a second. And I set it last night
by railway time. Will you go first, or shall
I lead the way?"

"Che diavolo!" muttered Barletti, following
the lawyer down-stairs. "It didn't strike
me at first, but now I think how early it is,
what in the world could have brought him
out at this hour in the morning!"

"Eh?" said Frost, half turning round
on the staircase.

"Nothing. I was only wondering why
my friends chose such an hour to visit the
squadron."

"The gentleman seems to be an invalid."

"Yes: he is ill and regularly used up.
I heard from his physician that his doom
is fixed. He can't last much longer."

"Ah, indeed!" returned Frost,
indifferently. His attention was more occupied
in finding the hook in the hall marked
twenty-seven, on which to hang the key of
his room, than in listening to Barletti.

"He is very richone of your English
millionaires. Perhaps you know the name
Baronet Sir John Gale."

"Gale! Tallis Gale?"

"Ah, you know him?"

"I know of him: and nothing to his
credit. I'm sorry if he's your friend; but
in England he bears a very bad character."

"Oh, I have no special love for him,"
answered Barletti. "I believe him to be a
roué and a vaurien."

"He used that poor wife of his,
infernally ill."

"Used her ill? The brute! I have
suspected it."

"Oh, it's not a matter of suspicion. The
story is well known enough. Well, I must
be off. I may not see you again, prince.
But I suppose our little affair is settled.
Good-bye."

"Good-bye. You really start to-morrow?
Well, bon voyage!"

Mr. Frost walked away briskly. Barletti
remained in the doorway of the hotel. He
stood there pondering with an unlit cigar in
his hand; and was roused from a reverie by
the consciousness that some one was behind
him, wanting to pass out. He looked round
and saw an officer in the uniform of the
English navy.

"Pardon!" said the officer, raising his
cap courteously. Barletti took off his hat.

The officer had moved away a few paces,
when he stopped, came back, and said in
French: " Excuse me, but are you staying
in this hotel?"

"No. I came here merely to see a
friend."

"Then you don't happen to know
whether there is any one of that name
here?" said the officer, showing a card
with an English name on it. "The porter
is very surly, or very stupid. I can make
nothing of him. But I have an idea that
my friend must be here, if I could but get
at him."

Barletti good-naturedly went into the
porter's little glass den and began to speak
in voluble Neapolitan to a man who was
doing duty there. He proved to be the
porter's deputy; that chief functionary
being absent temporarily from his post.

"If you don't mind waiting a few
minutes," said Barletti, returning to the
doorway, "the porter will be back. That
fellow knows nothing; understands only
two words of French, and won't confess his
ignorance. I have rated him in the
strongest vernacular."

The officer made his acknowledgments,