Patrice was still in the boat. He pushed off abruptly and caught up the scull, muttering:
“As I live, I believe the beggar’s getting at me!”
He was ten yards from shore when he cried:
“If you’re afraid, I’ll go alone. Don’t want any help.”
“Right you are, captain!” replied Don Luis. “I’ll expect you presently at the inn.”
Patrice encountered no difficulties in his undertaking. At the first order, which he shouted in a tone of command, the Belle Hélène stopped; and he was able to board her peacefully. The two bargees were men of a certain age, natives of the Basque coast. He introduced himself as a representative of the military authorities; and they showed him over their craft. He found neither old Siméon nor the very smallest bag of gold. The hold was almost empty.
The questions and answers did not take long:
“Where are you going?”
“To Rouen. We’ve been requisitioned by the government for transport of supplies.”