“Yes, but there’s that corvette. Couldn’t something be arranged to make them swallow the whole thing, somehow, some way. You laugh.... Why?”
“I laugh because it would be a great joke,” said Peyrol, whose hilarity was very short-lived. “That fellow on board, he thinks himself very clever. I never set my eyes on him, but I used to feel that I knew him as if he were my own brother; but now....”
He stopped short. Lieutenant Réal, after observing the sudden change on his countenance, said in an impressive manner:
“I think you have just had an idea.”
“Not the slightest,” said Peyrol, turning suddenly into stone, as if by enchantment. The lieutenant did not feel discouraged, and he was not surprised to hear the effigy of Peyrol pronounce: “All the same one could see.” Then very abruptly: “You meant to stay here to-night?”
“Yes. I will only go down to Madrague and leave word with the sailing barge which was to come to-day from Toulon to go back without me.”
“No, lieutenant. You must return to Toulon to-day. When you get there you must turn out some of those damned quill-drivers at the Port Office if it were midnight and have papers made out for a tartane—oh, any name you like. Some sort of papers. And then you must come back as soon as you can. Why not go down to Madrague now and see whether the barge isn’t already there? If she is, then by starting at once you may get back here some time about midnight.”
He got up impetuously, and the lieutenant stood up too. Hesitation was imprinted on his whole attitude. Peyrol’s aspect was not animated, but his Roman face with its severe aspect gave him a great air of authority.
“Won’t you tell me something more,” asked the lieutenant.
“No,” said the rover. “Not till we meet again. If you return during the night don’t you try to get into the house. Wait outside. Don’t rouse anybody. I will be about, and if there is anything to say I will say it to you then. What are you looking about you for? You don’t want to go up for your valise. Your pistols up in your room too? What do you want with pistols, only to go to Toulon and back with a naval boat’s crew?” He actually laid his hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder and impelled him gently towards the track leading to Madrague. Réal turned his head at the touch and their eyes met with the strained closeness of a wrestler’s hug. It was the lieutenant who gave way before the unflinchingly direct stare of the old Brother of the Coast. He gave way under the cover of a sarcastic smile and a very airy “I see you want me out of the way for some reason or other,” which produced not the slightest effect upon Peyrol, who stood with his arm pointing towards Madrague. When the lieutenant turned his back on him Peyrol’s pointing arm fell down by his side; but he watched the lieutenant out of sight before he turned too and moved in a contrary direction.