“You will be obeyed, Captain Pog. But before parting from you, let me make you a present There are the papers and playthings of love belonging to a chevalier of Malta. It is, I believe, a story worthy of Ben-Absull. I got this treasure-trove from the cabin of the watchman. I thought I had found a diamond, and found only a grain of corn. But it may interest you, Captain Pog. There is a Maltese cross on the casket; everything which bears that hated sign returns to you by right.” As he said these words, Hadji threw at the feet of Pog-Reis the carved silver casket that he had stolen from the ebony case belonging to Peyrou. This casket was wrapped in a scarf, designed to protect the broken cover. Pog-Reis, little appreciative of the Bohemian’s attention, made a sign to him to continue his route. The chebec took her place of headway behind the galley of Pog, and the three vessels soon disappeared in the east, directing their course with all possible speed toward the isles of St Honorât, where they intended to lie in for repairs. CHAPTER XXXIII. DISCOVERY Pog was too closely occupied with the disabled condition in which he found his galleys, to lend attention to the last words of Hadji. One of the spahis picked up the casket, and placed it in Pog’s chamber, to which the latter had descended, after leaving the galley in the command of the pilot. This chamber was entirely covered with a coarse red woollen material. On this tapestry could be seen, here and there, a great number of black crosses traced by the hand with charcoal. Among them a small number of white crosses appeared, drawn with chalk. A copper lamp threw a wan and sepulchral light in this room. The only furniture of the room consisted in a bed, covered with a tiger-skin, two chairs, and an oak table, hardly square. When the Moor had dressed the wounds of the captain, he retired. Pog, left alone, remained seated, resting his head on his hand, and reflecting upon the events of the night His vengeance was only half satisfied. His precipitate retreat humiliated his self-love, and aroused new resentments in his heart. Nevertheless, he smiled as he thought of the evil he had wrought, and rose from his seat, saying: “It is always so! My night will not have been lost, if--” Then he took a piece of charcoal, and made several black crosses on the tapestry. From time to time he paused, as if to collect his thoughts. He had just traced a black cross when he said to himself: “That Baron des Anbiez was killed! I think so, and I hope so. From the hollow vibration of the handle of the battle-axe in my hand, I thought I felt his skull broken. But the baron wore a helmet, his death is not certain. We will not make a false estimate of victims.” After this lugubrious pleasantry, he erased the cross, and began to count the white crosses.