One of the men clapped his shoulder.
"Never mind, Pierre," he said. "Never mind. You've a shoot of clothes on. What's the matter with them? They're all right!"
Pierre just glanced at this man, and went on to Scholar: "Lettairs—from my vife."
Cockney had recovered sufficiently by this to raise his head and explain to the others, as if translating: "That's his wife! 'E's got a wife! Too bad."
"Militar' papers," said the Frenchman.
"You come ashore with me," advised Scholar.
"Ashore?"
"Yes, we'll go to the police office."
"Police—eh? Non, non! Not leesten. 'Valise gone!' they say. 'You go with cattle? No matter!'"
It struck Scholar that there was much truth in this. One of the men seemed to see it otherwise.