Yvonne described him—she made him stand there on the deck before them. Mother Pêche knew that picture well. Le Fûret was one of the few living creatures she feared. She rose to her feet, and involuntarily cast an eager look in the direction of the other ship, whose sails, a league away, shone scarlet in that disastrous light. “What is the matter?” asked Yvonne, in swift alarm. “My old legs need stretching. I was too long still,” said Mother Pêche. “No, you are troubled at something. Tell me at once,” cried Yvonne, rising also, and letting her cloak drop. “Yes, _chérie_, yes!” answered the old woman, much agitated, and not daring to deceive her. “I _am_ much troubled. That was Le Fûret, Vaurin’s man, whom Captain Grande knocked down that day at the forge. He would do anything. He would lie even to you!” Yvonne grew pale to the lips. “Then you think Paul is _not_”—she began, in a strained voice. “I think he _may_ not be in _this_ ship,” interrupted Mother Pêche hurriedly. “But I’ll go right now and find out. Wait here for me.” And she went off briskly, poking through the confusion with her staff. She knew men, this old dame; and she quickly found out what she wanted to find out. Trembling with apprehension, she came back to Yvonne—and went straight to the point. “No, no, dear heart!” she began. “He is not here. He is on the other ship yonder. I have a plan, though”— But there was no use going on; for Yvonne had dropped in a faint. Chapter XXXII Aboard the “Good Hope” Mother Pêche was not alarmed, but, like the shrewd strategist she was, made haste to turn the evil to good account. She summoned a soldier—by excellent chance that same boyish-faced, tall fellow who had so patly aided at the embarking; and he with the best will in the world and a fluttering in his breast carried Yvonne straight to the captain’s cabin, where he laid her upon the berth. Then, at Mother Pêche’s request, he went to beg the captain’s presence for an instant in his cabin.