"As innocent as I am myself—no more, no less. But I see that you have some of that excellent English tobacco on the table. Permit me to make myself a cigarette."
"You are a cool fellow, Baptiste Liais. I can see that you are a man of education. You were not always a common sailor?"
"Your perception flatters me. You have divined the truth," said the Frenchman, bowing. "I am a gentleman by birth and education. My family is one of the most ancient and respected of the Provençal aristocracy. I need not tell you that the name I now go by is an assumed one. And I—well I, to be candid, am the scapegrace of the family."
He rolled himself up a cigarette, lit it, and, looking up, his eyes met those of Carew in the frankest way possible. And yet the solicitor had no doubt in his own mind that the man had committed the crimes imputed to him; and the Frenchman, on his part, did not imagine for a moment that Carew believed in his innocence.
"I suppose you will now look out for another ship?" the solicitor said.
"How can I do so in Rotterdam? My face is known here. I am execrated—hunted down. No captain would ship me, no crew serve with me."
"Won't your consul assist you?"
"I don't think so," replied the Frenchman drily.
Neither spoke for some time; then Carew said, "I realise your position, and am sorry for you. Now supposing I were to ship you on board my yacht, I imagine that it would be a matter of indifference to you to what part of the world we sailed?"