I could not read what was writ, for the writing was in strange signs and figures; so presently I gave over trying and looked up at my prisoner, who now had dressed again.
"You are Captain Moucher?"
He denied it hoarsely; but I, having now no vestige of doubt concerning this miserable man's identity, ignored his answer.
"What is this paper which was taken from your boot?"
He seemed to find no word of explanation, but breathed harder and watched my eyes.
"Is it writ in a military cipher?"
"I do not know."
"How came these papers in your boot?"
He stammered out that somebody who had cleansed his boots must have dropped them in, and that, in pulling on his boots that morning, he had neither seen nor felt the papers.
"Where did you dress this morning?"