"A letter to the British consul!" the old man ejaculated. "It may be worth a franc or two, if I restore it to his excellency."
So he thrust it into his pocket, obtained a light, and hobbled away in the direction of the consulate.
But presently he paused in a retired spot, where only a single lamp illumined the surrounding houses.
"I wonder what the letter is about," he said; "I can make a better bargain, perhaps, if I know the contents."
And without more ado, the man pulled out the letter, and read it carefully.
Although it was written in English, the old French soldier seemed to understand it thoroughly.
"That cursed villain's name again," he hissed, through his teeth, when he had read a few lines. "But I'll pay him yet."
Then he continued the perusal, steadily, till he came to the end.
"It looks like truth," he said, as he returned it to his pocket. "I will restore it to the consul. Ha, ha! it will be sport indeed if I, Pierre Lenoir, the proscribed criminal, can defeat the schemes of that villain."
With a subdued chuckle the coiner departed on his way, revelling with delight at the thought that he would yet be avenged on his perfidious friend.