“And you will not repent it, watchman. I am not a sailor, but I have a telescope. If the chebec annoys you, I will assist you in watching it.” After some moments of silence, the watchman seated himself on a piece of the rock. The wind, increasing in violence, blew with irresistible force. Great clouds from time to time veiled the pale disc of the moon, and the door of the sentry-box, left open, was flapping with a loud noise. “If you wish to be of some use,” said Peyrou, “take that end of the rope there on the ground, and fasten the door of my cell, because the wind will continue to rise.” The Bohemian looked at the watchman with an astonished air, and hesitated to obey for a moment. “You wish to shut me up in there. You are cunning, watchman.” Peyrou bit his lips, and replied: “Fasten that door on the outside, I tell you, or I will take you for a bad fellow.” The Bohemian, seeing nothing disagreeable in satisfying the watchman, picked up the rope, passed it through a ring screwed to the door, and tied it to a cramp-iron fixed in the wall. The watchman, seated, was attentively watching the movements of his companion. When the knot was tied, Peyrou approached it, and said, after examining it a moment: “As sure as God is in heaven, you are a sailor!” “I, watchman?” “And you have served on board those corsairs from Barbary.” “Never! Never!” “I tell you that one who has not sailed with the pirates of Algiers or Tunis cannot have the habit of making that triple knot that you have just made. Only pirates fasten tie anchor to the ring in that manner!” The Bohemian now, in his turn, bit his lips until they bled, but, regaining his self-possession, he said: “Come now, you have a sharp eye; you are both right and wrong, my lord watchman, this knot was taught me by one of our people, who joined us in Languedoc, after having been made a slave on a corsair from Algiers.” Losing all patience, and furious at the villain’s impudence, the watchman cried: “I tell you that you are lying. You came here to prepare some villainous scheme. Look at this!” And the watchman held up the little satchel The Bohemian, struck with amazement, uttered a curse in Arabic in spite of himself. If the watchman had felt the least doubt concerning the character of the Bohemian, this last exclamation, which had so often met his ears in his combats with the pirates, would have sufficed to prove the truth of his suspicions. The eyes of the Bohemian flashed with rage. “I see all,” said he, “the eagle came here to devour the pigeon! From the beach I saw her alight in these rocks. That satchel or your life!” cried the villain, drawing a dagger from his doublet, and rushing upon the watchman. The pistol on Peyrou’s breast recalled the fact to him that his enemy was more formidably armed than himself. Stamping his foot with rage, the vagabond cried: “Eblis (_Eblis is the Arabic for devil_) is with him!”