He felt for the chain by which the boat was moored, and ran his fingers along this to the point where it was fastened.

Here to his dismay he found a padlock.
He stood up in the gloom and laughed silently.

Of course he might have known it.

The ferry was the property of M.de La Tour d'Azyr, and not likely to be left unfastened so that poor devils might cheat him of seigneurial dues.
There being no possible alternative, he walked back to the cottage, and rapped on the door.

When it opened, he stood well back, and aside, out of the shaft of light that issued thence.
"Ferry!" he rapped out, laconically.
The ferryman, a burly scoundrel well known to him, turned aside to pick up a lantern, and came forth as he was bidden.