CHAPTER XIX
“A moment, monsieur le duc.”
The Duke turned at the door, and looked with listless inquiry into the face of the Minister of Marine, who, picking up an official paper from his table, ran an eye down it, marked a point with the sharp corner of his snuff-box, and handed it over to his visitor, saying:
“Our roster of English prisoners taken in the action off Brest.”
The Duke, puzzled, lifted his glass and scanned the roll mechanically.
“No, no, Duke, just where I have marked,” interposed the Minister.
“My dear Monsieur Dalbarade,” remarked the Duke a little querulously, “I do not see what interest—”
He stopped short, however, looked closer at the document, and then lowering it in a sort of amazement, seemed about to speak; but, instead, raised the paper again and fixed his eyes intently on the spot indicated by the Minister.
“Most curious,” he said after a moment, making little nods of his head towards Dalbarade; “my own name—and an English prisoner, you say?”