'The fellow is speaking the truth,' growled Toussac. 'Yes, I'll say
that for him, that he is speaking the truth. We saw the lugger, and
someone was landed from it just after the boat that brought me over
pushed off.'

I remembered that boat, which had been the first thing which I had seen
upon the coast of France. How little I had thought what it would mean
to me!

And now my advocate began asking questions--vague, useless questions--in
a slow, hesitating fashion which set Toussac grumbling. This
cross-examination appeared to me to be a useless farce; and yet there
was a certain eagerness and intensity in my questioner's manner which
gave me the assurance that he had some end in view. Was it merely that
he wished to gain time? Time for what? And then, suddenly, with that
quick perception which comes upon those whose nerves are strained by an
extremity of danger, I became convinced that he really was awaiting
something--that he was tense with expectation. I read it upon his drawn
face, upon his sidelong head with his ear scooped into his hand, above
all in his twitching, restless eyes. He expected an interruption, and
he was talking, talking, talking, in order to gain time for it. I was
as sure of it as if he had whispered his secret in my ear, and down in
my numb, cold heart a warm little spring of hope began to bubble and
run.

But Toussac had chafed at all this word-fencing, and now with an oath he
broke in upon our dialogue.

'I have had enough of this!' he cried. 'It is not for child's play of