Silence followed. The captain poured out another glass of punch. Amélie and René drew apart from the group and engaged in a lover's colloquy. The three Carbonari talked animatedly of the accomplishment of their plans. When, later, Amélie turned her eyes in search of her father and failed to find him, she concluded he had gone to rest or that he chose to protest by his absence against the general sentiment regarding Volpetti. Meanwhile, Naundorff was staggering along the vessel's deck, as she tossed roughly, in the direction of the bound spy, who lay near a heap of cordage where he had been deposited by his captors. His handsome face was contracted with rage, which increased as he saw the watch-maker approach. He believed that his last hour had arrived. Naundorff bent over him, saying in a low voice: "I have come to set you free." Volpetti's eyes flashed amazement. "Listen!" said his liberator, cutting the cords with his pen knife. "I forgive you that God may forgive me. Your life has been a series of iniquities. You have made me suffer so greatly that I have almost doubted the existence of God. When you are free, change your mode of life. Here you will surely be killed. Cast yourself overboard, for you may be rescued by some other vessel. Do not stir yet. Be very quiet." He had already freed Volpetti's hands. He now cut the cords binding his legs and feet. The spy muttered: "Harebrained imbecile!" During this critical moment his past life rose before him. _He_ change? Impossible! He was a spy by nature. When a school boy, he had spied upon and delivered up his playfellows. While a novice in the monastery, he had spied upon his brothers. Turned out of the monastery by the Revolution, he had spied upon the revolutionists. His education and inclinations fitted him for the life, and the present atmosphere was auspicious, or 'twas the golden age of the secret police. The true history of that epoch will never be written because certain knaves carried it with them to the grave. When Volpetti entered the ranks of the secret police, he displayed signal talent. According to a remark made at the time by a prominent official, he was not only the eyes and ears but also the arm of the government. The swift eye of Vidocq early discerned the wonderful gifts of this king among spies: his art in ingratiating himself into the good graces of his employers; his genius at disguises and every species of simulation; his alertness in forming intimacies with the familiars of those who were his predestined victims. In short, he was a born spy and his machinations were labors of love. He was furnished money, agents and whatever other auxiliaries he demanded. His astuteness had discovered countless plots, effected the capture of a multitude of conspirators, among these General Doyenne, who suicided in prison, rather than submit to the ignominy of picket torture.