And once more he repeated his instructions to the boy. The three listening men drank in his words eagerly, and when he had finished they paid their score and went out. “They overheard what you said,” spoke Ethan. “I know it,” smiled Fochard. “Since the time when I caught the Lascar in his attempt to leave France with the dispatch, he has been hounding me.” “But,” said Ethan, “if you secured it from him why did he go to St. Mary’s Isle to see the Earl of Selkirk?” “To induce that gentleman to purchase the paper. But now that the time has come, I’d rather see liberty result than my own enrichment. If the American government should see its way clear to rewarding me, why, well and good, if not it will not matter much. This resolution has angered the Lascar, for he hoped to share in the English gold.” “I see,” said Ethan. “But Danvers did not know of this compact between you.” “Indeed no,” smiled Fochard. “I gave him to understand that Siki was safely out of France with the papers and--ahem--that you assisted him.” “So he said,” replied the young American. “And now,” said Fochard, arising, “I will be going. You will not fail to bring these matters to the attention of Dr. Franklin at once, I trust. As things are,” with a most expressive wave of the hand, “I cannot act for myself. It would be misconstrued--for it is generally supposed that Fochard works only for pay. Good-evening.” He bowed to both Ethan and Longsword, then walked gravely through the lines of small tables and departed. Ethan at once informed Longsword of all that had been said; and the latter shook his head, the grim expression of his face increasing. “I don’t like it,” declared the Irishman, decidedly. “And I don’t trust the man.” “But it seems possible,” protested Ethan. “The French are almost mad with admiration of the Americans just now, and a man may do such a thing in his enthusiasm for a cause.” “But not a man like that, faith! He’s as cold blooded as a fish. He has some sort of a plot behind all this, mark my words.” “But what can it be?” asked the lad. The dragoon shook his head again. “I don’t know,” he answered. “But time will tell, I think.” They left the coffee house; and as they stepped into the shadows of the Rue Constantine, Ethan noticed his companion pull his scabbard about so that his cutlass would be ready at his hand. “What’s that for?” he asked, in surprise. “It’s always good to have your blade handy on a dark night,” said Longsword, briefly. Ethan made no reply, and so they continued on their way in silence for a time. Finally the lad spoke. “I suppose it would have been better had we given an alarm and had the Lascar seized by the authorities,” said he. “And have the whole matter of the dispatch come out,” cried the Irish soldier. “That would never do. Remember what Dr. Franklin said.”