"I am obliged by your high consideration," continued the outlaw; "still this does not explain to me--" "Who I am," cried the other, with feigned candour; "well, sir, considering you have mentioned so many names--" "You allow, then, that I was right." "Certainly; you were quite right," answered the other, quickly; "I therefore sincerely beg your pardon." "It is not at all necessary." "There is, however, one thing that I must confess puzzles me very much," continued the envoy. "May I, without offence, ask what that is?" "No offence. I should certainly be only too glad to have an explanation with you on the subject." "If it depends upon me," the other said. "It depends absolutely on you. I always thought I had a good memory. I believe myself to be a very good physiognomist, but really I have no recollection of you." The outlaw burst into a roar of laughter. "Which only proves," he added, when he recovered himself, "that I am much more clever at incognito than you." "Which means--" "That not only have we met, monsieur, but that we have carried on a long connection," said Tom. "Many years ago?" "Not at all, sir. I speak of very recent times, though I will allow that our acquaintance commenced long ago." "You astonish me," said the Frenchman. "The matter is very easily explained. We have found ourselves connected at different times, under four different names: I have told you yours, I will now tell mine. Do you remember Louis Querehard? Do you recollect François Magnaud, Paul Sambrun, and Pedro Lopez?" "Perfectly," cried the other. "Well, sir, those four individuals you now see present under the name of Tom Mitchell, your very humble servant; though," he added, with exquisite politeness, yet with a tint of irony, "I have several others available on occasion." "Well, sir," cried the stranger, "you have indeed taken me in. I was a fool not to recognise you." "Sir!" cried the outlaw. "Let us call things by their names. It is by far the best plan. I am indeed not to be forgiven for being taken in like any novice. I deserve to be dismissed from the service of the Government which employs me, and which believes me to be worthy of credit, as possessing a certain amount of wit and diplomatic ability. Well, it is useless to discuss the matter any longer. Give me your hand, sir," he cried; "you are my master. We bear no malice." "I only wanted to prove--" said the outlaw. "That I was a fool--and I must say you have done so to my entire satisfaction," he added, in a tone of complete good humour. "But however unpleasant the shock is to my self-love, I am delighted at what has happened." "How so?" asked the outlaw, in the same tone. "Because the ice is broken between us, and we can come to an understanding; the more readily," he added, "that the matters I have to speak of are the same as before." "If that be so," said the outlaw, "we can easily come to terms."