"And now learn, my friend, that you are free as air, and absolute master of my domains," he added, laughing. Then he picked three flowers, and placing them in his buttonhole, said, "This will give you free passage everywhere you like. Now for your two travelling companions. But follow me."
He opened a door opposite that by which they had entered, and, crossing several apartments, at last came to a room which overlooked a charming and elegant garden.
"Here you are at home," he said; "come, go, do just as you like. At the end of the garden you will find a door opening on the woods. We shall dine at six. Be back by that time, and you will find the table laid here. We can then explain all."
With these words the outlaw left his friend.
As soon as he had returned to his private room, Tom Mitchell, or Maillard, son of the terrible judge of the Reign of Terror, sat down before a table, wrote a few lines, sealed the letter carefully, and then struck a gong.
At once Camotte appeared and took the letter.
"Send this letter to my father by express," he said; "let him kill his horse, but let me have the answer."
"He shall be gone in five minutes."
"And now," continued Tom Mitchell, with a sarcastic smile, "send that fat American in here."
Camotte bowed and retired. Next moment the great American shipowner came in puffing and blowing.