“This letter was not entrusted to me by M. Van Dael,” said Faringhea, interrupting Rodin.
“How, then, is it in your possession?”
“A Javanese smuggler betrayed me. Van Dael had secured a passage to Alexandria for this man, and had given him this letter to carry with him for the European mail. I strangled the smuggler, took the letter, made the passage—and here I am.”
The Thug had pronounced these words with an air of savage boasting; his wild, intrepid glance did not quail before the piercing look of Rodin, who, at this strange confession, had hastily raised his head to observe the speaker.
Faringhea thought to astonish or intimidate Rodin by these ferocious words; but, to his great surprise, the socius, impassible as a corpse, said to him, quite simply: “Oh! they strangle people in Java?”
“Yes, there and elsewhere,” answered Faringhea, with a bitter smile.
“I would prefer to disbelieve you; but I am surprised at your sincerity M.—, what is your name?”
“Faringhea.”
“Well, then, M. Faringhea, what do you wish to come to? You have obtained by an abominable crime, a letter addressed to me, and now you hesitate to deliver it.”
“Because I have read it, and it may be useful to me.”