"No, no! It's the business of the port officer, not mine. Too many papers and nonsense of that kind nowadays," said the sailor, who appeared to have conservative tendencies. "And, by the way, the port officer has already been aboard. Well, if there is any trouble later on, you must represent yourselves as stowaways. Down in the afterhold, you understand, and did not come out till we had cleared the river, and I was not going to delay by putting back to land you." Nothing would have suited the voyager better than to live the life of a stowaway the whole time, especially if they were going to put into Dieppe, so he received this suggestion warmly. The captain then named his terms, and said he had a spare cabin which would do for his passenger and the boy; after which he slewed round in his chair and stared at Anne, who, kneeling on a locker, had his nose pressed to one of the small stern windows. "Tell the child to come here," he said. "What is his name?" "An . . . Annibal," replied La Vireville brilliantly, feeling that "Anne" savoured too much of the old régime, but not equal himself to calling him consistently by a name too dissimilar. "You will not, captain, out of humanity, mention his mother to him, nor why we are going to Caen? Annibal!" Anne-Hilarion looked round, startled, at this unusual appellation, but seeing his friend's outstretched hand, understood and came. The captain studied his tired, sleepy, dirty little face, his tangled curls, his good but hastily put on clothes . . . and La Vireville had the sudden wonder whether those small kerseymere breeches that reached so nearly to his armpits bore inside the name of an English maker, or whether they were the work of Elspeth's fingers. Anyhow, the sailor was not likely to investigate the point. "A little sea-air will do the child good," remarked the latter. "And a meal, I think, as soon as we are out of harbour, as we shall be before long. Don't you agree with me, my boy?" ("Why did I not tell Anne on no account to let fall a word of English?" thought La Vireville to himself. "But I do not suppose he will.") No; for the Comte de Flavigny naturally responded to a query in French by an answer in the same tongue. And he said simply and politely: "If you please, Monsieur." "_Eh?_" ejaculated the seaman, and a gleam of speculation shot suddenly into his blue eyes. La Vireville felt as if he were sitting on a red-hot chair. He and the child between them had been a little unfortunate, with the Supreme Being on the one hand and that forbidden term of social address on the other--returning to use though it was among the upper classes. The captain, however, merely shook his head. "You seem old-fashioned, my boy," he remarked drily, and, rising, went to the door and called to the mate. * * * * *