He gave a light laugh and stretched out his long legs, contemplating his strapped trousers and neat boots with the eye of a connoisseur.

"And should I be the humble means of doing a good turn to France and others, will France--and others--remember it, I wonder.
Perhaps I hold in my hands the Hope of France, Marquis." He paused, and lapsed for a moment into thought.

It was eight o'clock, and the long northern twilight was fading into darkness now.

The bell of Captain Clubbe's ship rang out the hour--a new sound in the stillness of this forgotten town.
"The Last Hope," added Dormer Colville, with a queer laugh..