Frenchman of the same order.

The dying man feebly takes from his breast a packet and hands it to his
friend.

"It is as I have said," he whispers. "Others may guess, but I know.
I know--and another. The rest are all dead. There were six of us, and
all were killed save myself. We were poisoned by a Spaniard. He thought
he had killed all, but I lived. He also was killed. His murderer's name
was Bucklaw--an English pirate. He has the secret. Once he came with a
ship to find, but there was trouble and he did not go on. An Englishman
also came with the king's ship, but he did not find. But I know that the
man Bucklaw will come again. It should not be. Listen: A year ago, and
something more, I was travelling to the coast. From there I was to sail
for Spain. I had lost the chart of the river then. I was taken ill and
I should have died, but a young French officer stayed his men beside me
and cared for me, and had me carried to the coast, where I recovered. I
did not go to Spain, and I found the chart of the river again."

There is a pause, in which the deep breathing of the dying man mingles
with the low wash of the river, and presently he speaks again. "I vowed
then that he should know. As God is our Father, swear that you will give
this packet to himself only."

The priest, in reply, lifts the crucifix from the dying man's breast and
puts his lips to it. The world seems not to know, so cheerful is it all,
that, with a sob, that sob of farewell which the soul gives the body,--
the spirit of a man is passing the mile-posts called Life, Time, and
Eternity.