He waited, in great expectancy and some agitation, for the next visit; and at the stated hour, the outer door was opened, and the eye appeared.
Morton, as he replied to the challenge, made a gesture of friendly recognition.
"You remember me, eh?" whispered a voice, in broken French; "be always close to the door when I come. I shall have something to tell you."
The moustached lips whence the whisper issued were withdrawn from the opening, and Morton was left to his reflections.
To have a friend near him, however humble, was much, and the hope, slender as it seemed, that this friend might aid him, filled him with a feverish excitement. Why the corporal should interest himself in his behalf, he could not imagine; and he waited restlessly for his next coming.
In due time, the eye appeared.
"Look here," whispered Max, and thrust a paper through the opening, waiting only long enough to see Morton pick it up.
The chirography was worse, if possible, than the spelling; but Morton at last deciphered words to the following purport.
"You are brave. Don't despair. I shall help you, if I can. Long live America! Down with the emperor! Only be patient. Be sure to chew this paper, and swallow it."
The last injunction had its objections, and the prisoner compromised the matter by tearing the paper into small pieces, and stuffing them into the crevices of the floor.