"Is not pleasant, I know," interrupted Tom; "but that is not necessary. You shall remain quietly here." "Then I consent. When do you expect to catch him?" "In less than a week, unless I am very unfortunate." "Then I can wholly depend on you?" cried Hebrard. "I swear to you on my honour that it will not be my fault if at the end of the time you are not face to face." "I thank you in advance," said the envoy. "There is nothing to be grateful for," replied the outlaw, with an odd expression and smile. CHAPTER XVIII. THE PRISONER. That same day, about nine o'clock in the evening, the outlaw was seated face to face with Captain Pierre Durand at a table covered with dishes, plates, and empty bottles, which testified to the appetite of the two men, and to the rude attack they had made upon everything in order to satisfy it. The two men were now smoking excellent cigars, while sipping, like true amateurs, some mocha, served in real Japanese cups. Close at hand, in addition, were bottles containing every conceivable kind of liquors and spirits. They had reached that precise period in the repast so prized by gourmets, when, the mind elevated and the brain excited by succulent food and generous libations, one feels a kind of happy state of being that is simply charming. For one whole quarter of an hour neither of the two men had spoken or cared to speak. It was the outlaw who first broke the charm. "You are aware, my dear captain," he said, "that in half an hour I must leave you and be off." "Excuse me," cried Pierre Durand, starting, "if I believe a single word of such a mad assertion." "Yes, I am truly sorry to say, it is the exact fact. Doubtless you know as well as I do, business before all." "I have not the remotest idea of interfering with your affairs," cried the sea captain, glumly. "Then what do you mean?" "That you are not going to leave me in the lurch." "Still, when I tell you I must go," said the outlaw. "All I mean is this, that if you go I go," cried Pierre. "What! A night journey like this?" asked Tom. "Night journey, day journey, it is all the same to me. I am an old sailor," growled Pierre Durand; "and every kind of locomotion is equally indifferent to me. Besides, I have known you a very long time, haven't I? And I know what sort of trade you carry on," he added. The outlaw kept his countenance. "Of course, I shall not be surprised or scandalised at anything I see. All I know is that here I should be bored to death, having nothing to do. It would be a nice little change to join you in one of your filibustering expeditions." All this was said in a joking kind of way that excluded all idea of giving offence. "Well," said Tom Mitchell, smiling, "any way, you would find yourself utterly disappointed." "How is that?" "I am not going to plunder, but to restore. Of course I don't pretend it is my usual custom," said Tom.