“Then,” he asked again, “they will send me home?”
“On the first national vessel that leaves Saigon.”
The magistrate went and sat down at the table where the clerk was writing, and rapidly ran his eye over the long examination, seeing if anything had been overlooked. When he had done, he said,—
“Now give me as accurate a description of Justin Chevassat as you can.”
Crochard passed his hand repeatedly over his forehead; and then, his eyes staring at empty space, and his neck stretched out, as if he saw a phantom which he had suddenly called up, he said,—
“Chevassat is a man of my age; but he does not look more than twenty seven or eight. That is what made me hesitate at first, when I met him on the boulevard. He is a handsome fellow, very well made, and wears all his beard. He looks clever, with soft eyes; and his face inspires confidence at once.”
“Ah! that is Maxime all over,” broke in Daniel.
And, suddenly remembering something, he called Lefloch. The sailor started, and almost mechanically assumed the respectful position of a sailor standing before his officer.
“Lieutenant?” he said.
“Since I have been sick, they have brought part of my baggage here; have they not?”