"My dear friend," he sneered, "you are mad—quite mad! I have suspected it from the first!"
"You are not mad, M. Vard," said a pleasant voice at the threshold. "And you have your freedom. France accepts your services!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
CROCHARD, THE INVINCIBLE!
Pachmann jerked round with an oath. At the first glance, he thought it was the Prince who stood there, though it had not been the Prince's voice. A second glance undeceived him. There was, it is true, a certain puzzling resemblance to the Prince, but this man was more strongly built, more graceful—and the Prince could never smile like that! And then, with a little bow, the newcomer removed the broad-brimmed hat which shadowed his face, and, with a sudden feeling of sickness, Pachmann recognised him.
But the Admiral was a brave man, with a nerve not easily shaken; besides, the odds were all in his favour! Yet he realised the need for all his resource, all his self control. At the end of a moment, he rose slowly, almost carelessly.
"Who are you, sir?" he demanded.
"Do you not know me?" laughed the stranger. "Surely, yes! I saw your eyes penetrate this slight disguise. I crossed with you on the Ottilie, Admiral, as André Chevrial. I believe you even did me the honour to convince yourself that that was really my name. I am, however, better known in Paris as Crochard, L'Invincible!"