"It's this, Carette--" and then the door of the side room opened quietly
and Jean Le Marchant came out, looking at us with much surprise.

He was very little changed since I had seen him last. It was the same keen,
handsome face, with its long white moustache and cold dark eyes, somewhat
tired at the moment with their night duties.

"And this is--?" he asked suavely, as I bowed.

"It is Phil Carré, of Belfontaine, father," said Carette quickly. "He has
come to see you."

"Very kind of Monsieur Carré. It is not after my health you came to
enquire, monsieur?"

"No, sir. It is this. I have decided to go privateering, and I want to go
with the best man. I am told Torode of Herm is the best, and that you can
tell me more about him than anyone else."

"Ah--Torode! Yes, he is a very clever man is Torode--a clever man, and very
successful. And privateering is undoubtedly the game nowadays. Honest
free-trading isn't in it compared with the privateering, though even that
isn't what it was, they say. Like everything else, it is overdone, and many
mouths make scant faring. And so you want to go out with Torode?" he asked
musingly.

"That is my idea. You see, monsieur, I have spent nearly four years in the
trading to the Indies, and I am about as well off as when I started--except
in experience. Now I want to make something--all I can, and as quickly as I