"No understand," said the man, shaking his head.
"Any letters—billy duxes?"
The man made a gesture to indicate that he did not understand.
"Thick-headed old idiot," muttered Chivey; then calling in pantomime to aid his lack of French, he produced the first letter Jack had written to the consul.
"Letter, like this."
The gaoler's eyes twinkled; he nodded and half drew from the breast-pocket of his uniform the very document Chivey was so anxious to get hold of.
"Hand it over, old pal," he said, holding out his hand.
The gaoler smiled as he again concealed the letter.
Then he in turn held out his hand, and made signs that he required something to be dropped into it.
"Old cormorant wants more palm oil," muttered Chivey, and most reluctantly he drew from his pocket one of the gold pieces Herbert Murray had given him for the purpose of bribing the gaoler.