So young Jack was brought into the presence of the consul, who closely questioned him as to what he had been doing in Marseilles.
He told the truth, and, in spite of the severe cross-examination by the governor and the consul, stuck to his tale.
"Humph!" said the consul. "You are consistent, at all events. Well, for the present, you may return to your cell, but don't tell even your friends that you have seen the British consul."
"I won't mention it, sir."
And Jack returned to his cell, escorted by the governor himself, as the consul did not wish anyone to know of the interview.
But when the governor returned, the consul said—
"Now, Monsieur Hocquart Delamarre, what do you think of the affair?"
The governor did not reply, but there quietly glided from behind a screen, which probably had concealed him during the interview, a man of middle age and height, with nothing at all striking in his appearance.
He might have passed for a clerk, a second-rate shopkeeper, or a superior artisan; anyone passing him in the street would have taken no notice whatever of such an everyday kind of a man.
Yet, after all, a very close observer would have noticed something very peculiar about him. His eyes!