"Yes, go by all means, for if we don't call for them, he's likely enough to give them up to----"

Murray hesitated, but Chivey instantly supplied the word.

"The rightful owners, you mean, guv'nor."

"Cut away!" sharply exclaimed Murray, who was annoyed at the liberties taken by his quondam servant.

Chivey strolled up towards the prison, and was just in time to meet the gaoler coming out.

"Mornin', mossoo," he said, with a familiar nod, "rather warm, ain't it? What d'ye say to a bottle of wine jest to wash the dust out o' yer throat?"

The Frenchman did not comprehend a fourth part of this speech, but he understood that he was to partake of a bottle of wine, and at once signified his willingness.

"Vid moosh plaisir, m'sieu."

And he led the way to a cabaret where they sold his favourite wine.

"Now have you got any letters for me?" said Chivey, when they were comfortably seated at a table, remote from the few other customers, who were engaged in a very noisy game of dominoes.

"No understand," said the man, shaking his head.

"Any letters--billy duxes?"

The man made a gesture to indicate that he did not understand.

"Thick-headed old idiot," muttered Chivey; then calling in pantomime to aid his lack of French, he produced the first letter Jack had written to the consul.

"Letter, like this."

The gaoler's eyes twinkled; he nodded and half drew from the breast-pocket of his uniform the very doc.u.ment Chivey was so anxious to get hold of.

"Hand it over, old pal," he said, holding out his hand.

The gaoler smiled as he again concealed the letter.

Then he in turn held out his hand, and made signs that he required something to be dropped into it.

"Old cormorant wants more palm oil," muttered Chivey, and most reluctantly he drew from his pocket one of the gold pieces Herbert Murray had given him for the purpose of bribing the gaoler.

But the Frenchman shook his head.

"Two; I cannot part with the letter under two," he said, in much better English than he had hitherto spoken.

"Well, I'm blest! Why couldn't you speak like that before? We'd have come to business much sooner."

"I thought Monsieur would like to exhibit his extensive knowledge of the French tongue, but here is the letter."

"And here's the coin. I will buy as many as you can get at the same figure."

"You shall certainly have the first chance."

Chivey helped himself to another gla.s.s, and asked--

"When is the trial to be?"

"The judge, unfortunately, has been taken ill, and the prisoners will have to wait about three weeks for an opportunity of proving their innocence."

"That's unfortunate. What do you think they'll get?"

"If found guilty, twenty years at the galleys."

"What, old wooden legs and all?"

"The gentleman who has lost his limbs will be probably sent to some other employment."

"What a pity. Well, good-bye, old c.o.c.k; keep your weather-eye open."

"_Au revoir, monsieur._"

c.o.c.king his hat very much on one side, Chivey stalked out of the place.

CHAPTER CI.

HOW THE PURLOINED LETTER WAS LOST--AND WHO FOUND IT.

"That 'ere frog-eating swine gets two quid for bonin' the letter, so I think I'm ent.i.tled to one. Can't let all the coin go into old Frenchy's pocket."

Thus Chivey muttered to himself as he neared the place where he and Herbert Murray were staying.

Chivey evidently intended putting the screw on Herbert.

"Look here, guv'nor," said he, as he entered the room; "I ain't much of a reading cove, but I see once a book called Jessop's fables."

"aesop's fables, I presume you mean, Chivey?"

"It's all the same. But there's a yarn about a monkey what made the cat pull chestnuts out of the fire; and I'm jiggered if I'm going to play the cat."

"I am not aware that anyone wishes you to do so," responded Murray, in his blandest manner.

"Well, you are a-trying it on, at any rate."

"How so?"

"Why, supposing it's found out about our stopping these here letters?"