"The man is without a name," said the Commandant. "He is a number. But once he was known as Jean Fourneau."
Virginia breathed again. "And the one who was with him?"
"The man eaten by the sharks? He was called, in the world, Pierre Duval."
The girl could hardly restrain a murmur of the infinite relief she felt. But she dared show no emotion. "I suppose you have all sorts and conditions of men here?" she asked.
"From the highest to the lowest."
"Then there must be many interesting cases—quite romances. Do tell us something about a few of the best."
"That is difficult. There are many cases which might interest you; but they would shock you as well."
"I would trust you to choose. Have you any young men of good family who, perhaps, committed their crimes for love?"
The Commandant smiled. "We have many such. There is the man who is called the New Caledonian Dreyfus—Chatelain—who sold his country to please the woman he loved. He is at Ducos. But perhaps the most notable example of the type you desire is a young scion of French and English aristocracy whom we have here, on the Ile Nou. He is now known as Number 1280; but a few years ago he figured brilliantly in the great world as Maxime Dalahaide. You may have heard of him, mademoiselle."
The words rang strangely in the girl's ears. She "might have heard of him"! But her presence of mind had not left her, as a few moments ago she had feared it might, when it should be needed most.