"Well, and what will our voodoo priest try next?" said Grant Norris.
"Next, he'll have us arrested, for disturbing the peace," said Julian.
"His peace of mind," added Ray.
Our discussion became serious now. The more Duran sought to shake us, the more important that we observe his every movement.
That he would be going ashore into the city was reasonably certain. If we were to see what he did there, it might be well to precede him, and lie in wait. Grant Norris, Robert Murtry, and Julian Lamartine, were selected for this expedition. Julian, like Jean Marat, had a fair command of the Spanish, which was the language of this port.
The three were in the small boat, ready to push off, when I recollected the bit of paper in my pocket, on which I had copied the addresses from Duran's book in the old ruin. There was among them an address in this port. I had out the paper, and called out the name to Julian, Paul Marcel was the name.
We saw the boat of our friends go among the wharves. It was not long till—"There he goes now!" cried Ray, and we saw a small boat moving shoreward from the schooner Orion.
The moon, approaching its first quarter, set at ten that night, and our three had not returned from the city. The anchor-light on the Orion was all we could see of her.
It was near midnight when I heard the dip of oars approaching, and directly Norris, Julian, and Robert climbed over the rail.
"It was a tame party we had," grumbled Norris. "Our friend Duran is back on his schooner."