"I am forced to confess," replied the chevalier, after a moment's reflection, "that Blue Beard has singular means of corresponding with one. This is a queer little mail."
"Ah, well, my son, I hope the lesson will profit you," said the priest. Then he continued, addressing the two slaves who were carrying in the blinds and were about to raise them into place, "It is unnecessary, my children, I see there is nothing to fear."
The slaves, accustomed to a blind obedience, took away the impromptu defenses.
The chevalier looked at the priest with astonishment.
"Without doubt," said the good father, "the word of the dwellers at Devil's Cliff is sacred; I have nothing at present to fear from them, nor you either, my son, because you are warned, and you will necessarily give up your mad plan."
"I, Father?"
"How——"
"May I become blacker this moment than your two negroes if I renounce it."
"What do you say—after such a warning?"
"Well, who is to tell me that this warning comes from Blue Beard? It may come from a rival—from the buccaneer, the filibuster, or the cannibal. For I have quite a selection among the gallant admirers of the beauty of Devil's Cliff."