“And this louis?” He pulled out the curiously marked coin. “A pocket piece I have had for a long time. I should know it among a thousand.” “You have established your case,” I answered defiantly. “You understand that I am no common thief or highwayman? I am an American naval officer. Serving under Cunningham on a privateer, I was captured, thrown into prison, escaped. Being penniless in the enemy’s country I determined to take the purse of the first traveler who came along. I took you for an Englishman. When I knew you were French, it was too late. I can only say that I will give you another I. O. U. for all that I have despoiled you of, and so soon as I can communicate with America you shall have the money.” The Marquis showed his white teeth in a grin—how I loathed him!—waving his hands as he did so. “As to that, we will discuss it presently. Meanwhile, what did you do with the papers you robbed me of in England?” “Tore them to pieces and scattered them in the first river I crossed.” “Damnation!” cried the man. “I could stand the loss of the money, but the loss of those papers wellnigh ruined me!” “How so?” “I was carrying some secret despatches to the British Government, in spite of the war, and your blundering made me fail in my mission.” “Blundering!” I cried. “Pray be calm, Monsieur,” he exclaimed; “the word may have been ill-advised, but you will recognize that some consideration is due me.” He looked meaningly at the little pile of notes. I followed his glance, snatched up another piece of paper, scribbled a line on it and added it to the heap. “That covers your loss, including the ring.” “Monsieur Burnham,” said the Marquis, “are you aware of the exceedingly difficult position into which you have got yourself?” “I should say I am! Being absolutely without funds, I am forced to ask total strangers to accept my bare word that I will discharge my obligations so soon as I hear from America. This, with the seas swarming with British ships, may be a matter of months.” “There is your Ambassador. He knows you, doubtless?” “Dr. Franklin doesn’t know me from Adam. He’s a Philadelphia Quaker, and I am from North Carolina. He has never seen me, nor I him. He knows my father and family, though. If there were any of our officers in the city, if Commodore Jones or Dick Dale had only returned from Texel, I should be all right, but as it is, I am completely at your mercy.” I hated to say that word, but there was no help for it. The Marquis bowed gracefully. “Your remark is singularly accurate, Monsieur. At my mercy!” He opened his mouth and tapped his white teeth with two of his white fingers. I wanted to choke him. Why, I could not say, for he had been considerate, and I owed him a lot of money. I had robbed him in England, and, besides, I had put him to serious inconvenience. “At my mercy,” he repeated, nodding. “I have admitted that fact,” I said sharply. “I do not see that it is necessary to remind me of it again.”