The passions of the mob had now cooled down considerably, and the men began to light their pipes, and looked once more the staid Dutchmen they naturally were. At this juncture five or six of the sturdy Rotterdam police arrived on the spot, and commenced to disperse the crowd so effectually that in a few minutes not a soul was left on the quay. One of the policemen, who understood a little English, came on board the yacht and inquired from Carew how the disturbance had commenced. Carew told him all that had occurred. "I should like to see the man," said the officer. They entered the cabin, and there, sitting in the corner of the bunk, trembling, haggard, his face still quite white, save where it was smeared with blood, was the French sailor who had that day been tried for murder on the high seas, and been acquitted. "I thought so," said the policeman. "It is the accused, Baptiste Liais. His case caused great excitement. The people are very bitter against him, for they all believe he was guilty. He is not safe in Rotterdam. We must find a way of getting him out of the country." "You can leave him here for the present," said Carew. "I will see that the poor wretch is safe for the night." "It is very generous of you, sir," exclaimed the astonished policeman; "but I think it is very unwise of you"-- "I am not afraid of him," interrupted Carew, in peremptory tones. "Leave him with me." The officer shrugged his shoulders. He had always been taught to believe that Englishmen were eccentric creatures; so he went away and told his comrades that the owner of the yacht was a splendid specimen of the mad island race, and Carew and the Frenchman were left alone in the cabin facing one another. CHAPTER VI For some few moments Carew sat on the opposite bunk, watching the sailor's face musingly. Then, rising, he addressed him in French. "I will fetch you a glass of rum. It will do you good." "I thank you much, sir," said the man, in the same language; "I should like it, for I still feel very faint." He drank a rather large dose of the spirit, and under its influence the colour quickly returned to his cheek, and the scared look left his face. "You can now go into the forecastle and wash yourself," said Carew. "You will find a jersey and a coat hanging up there; put them on." These had belonged to the drowned sailor, Jim. When the Frenchman returned to the cabin cleansed of bloodstains and decently clothed, the solicitor was surprised to see what a respectable-looking fellow he was. He might well have been a gentleman from his appearance, and his hands, though brown and roughened by work, were small and finely shaped. "How do you feel now?" "Thanks to you, sir, I am now quite myself again." After a pause, Carew said, with a smile, "I never before saw such abject terror in a man's face as there was in yours when you were running down the quay."