When Victor returned the old soldier rose and made his way to the cabin.

As he disappeared, D'Herouville moved toward the wheel.

From time to time he looked back at the vicomte, but that gentleman purposely refused to acknowledge these glances.
"Chevalier," he said, "you know why our poet here and myself are upon this ship: a certain paper, ten by twelve inches, stands between us and the block." "Ah!" The Chevalier opened his eyes.
"Yes.

Has it ever occurred to you, my poet, to investigate Monsieur le Chevalier's grey cloak; that is to say, search its pockets ?" Victor smothered an oath and thwacked his thigh.

"Horns of Panurge!" softly.
"Then you have not.