"How are you treating him?" asked Baptiste.
"Not in the way you are thinking of," Carew replied, looking into the other's eyes.
Baptiste saw that he had been mistaken in his surmise, but said no more on the subject.
Carew's box of medicines was by his side. Baptiste looked into it, and drew out a bottle. "This is not poison, is it?" he asked.
"No; but if you took a good dose of it it would make you feel very ill."
"What is a good dose of it?"
"About ten drops; it is in a concentrated form."
"That will answer my purpose, then," and Baptiste put the bottle in his pocket. "And now, sir, I want some stuff that will prevent insomnia."
The eyes of the two men met. Carew asked no questions, but merely said, "Take this bottle, then. Half a teaspoonful is a large dose."
"Let us go into your cabin for a few minutes," said Baptiste, glancing at Mourez. "This man seems quite unconscious; but a man may hear as long as he has breath in him. I will not trust him."