"Had not lost an arm?" said Dick.
"No, he had both his arms," said the jailer.
"And his name," said Dick, "was Victor?"
"Victor Dioré!" exclaimed the jailer's daughter.
"Precisely so—that's the man," replied the stoical Dick Stone; "that's the man. I know'd him soon after he was captured; and I believe he's now in Falmouth Jail. I'd almost forgotten his name, for you Mounseers are so badly christened that I can't remember how you're called."
The jailer and his daughter were much affected at this sudden intelligence; there could be no doubt that their new prisoner had seen their lost relative, who appeared to be imprisoned not far from Paul's residence, and their hearts at once warmed toward both the captives.
They were led into a large but rather dark room, scantily furnished, with two trestle-beds, a table, and a couple of benches.
"We must talk of this again," said Paul to the jailer's daughter; "perhaps an exchange of prisoners may be arranged at some future time that may serve us all."
"Yes," added Dick Stone, "I think we can manage it if we're all true friends; and may I ask your name, my dear? for you're the prettiest Mounseer that I've ever set eyes on."
"Léontine," replied the girl.