“Yes, monsieur,” quickly responded that individual, crossing the room. “Have you seen anything of any travelers to-night?” “Only the gentlemen who stopped here, monsieurs.” “Stopped here! Ah!” Captain Jones and Ethan Carlyle heard a sudden drawing back of stools and a chorus of sharp, breathless exclamations. “So,” continued Danvers, in a slightly lower tone, “some travelers stopped here to-night, did they?” “They did, monsieur, very fine gentlemen indeed. They honored my poor house by breaking bread in it, and eating of my excellent potato soup.” “And when did they leave?” “Leave, monsieur! They have not left. There are two of the gentlemen in the very next room.” There was a sound as though a single person had arisen; then footsteps slowly crossed the floor, and in a moment a tall, fine looking man with black hair, and a face of remarkable paleness, stood in the doorway and regarded the two occupants of the smaller room fixedly. There was a calm insolence in his air that was peculiarly exasperating, and Captain Paul Jones rapped out in a peppery tone, “I trust, sir, that this inspection is affording you as much satisfaction as it is us discomfort.” “Your name, sir,” demanded the man with great coolness. “My name is my own,” returned John Paul Jones, “and I don’t choose to give it to every fellow that asks it in a public house.” The man turned and beckoned; in a moment the burly form of Blake was at his side. “Is this the captain and the boy of whom you spoke?” asked he. “Yes, it is, Mr. Danvers,” replied Blake, scowling blackly, to hide his embarrassment. He did not like the look in his captain’s eye. “So, sir,” cried the latter, “I find you here, do I? Your leave ashore was for fifteen hours only.” “My leave ashore is for good, as far as your old barkee goes,” growled the Canadian sailor. “You have deserted, then?” inquired the officer, regarding him intently. “Call it what you like,” said Blake. “It all comes to the same thing.” Here Danvers signed for the seaman to go back into the supper room; when the man had done so the emissary of the British government advanced calmly to the fire. “I would scarcely style Blake’s little escapade desertion,” spoke he, easily, as he held his white, strong-looking hands over the blaze. “You see, he entered on the books of your ship at my request. It was only intended that he should sail with you to Nantes.” “I am quite aware of that,” answered John Paul Jones, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. The Englishman seemed surprised. “Indeed!” said he. “I am also aware that the Lascar, Siki, was in your pay.” “You are a person of considerable penetration,” said Danvers, bowing politely. “Not at all. It requires no keenness of wit to overhear a noisy conversation at an inn. I should have credited the government of Lord North with more circumspection in the choice of an agent, really.”