pipe in contemplative silence. But he had always foreseen that the
day might come when it would be his duty to do his best by Loo
Barebone. He had not sought this opportunity, because, being a wise
as well as a just man, he was not quite sure that he knew what the
best would be.

He shook hands gravely with the strangers, and by his manner seemed
to indicate his comprehension of Monsieur de Gemosac's well-turned
phrases of welcome. Dormer Colville appeared to be in a silent
humour, unless perchance he happened to be one of those rare beings
who can either talk or hold their tongues as occasion may demand.

"You won't want me to put my oar in, I see," observed he,
tentatively, as he drew forward a small table whereon were set three
glasses and a bottle of the celebrated claret.

"I can understand French, but I don't talk it," replied the Captain,
stolidly.

"And if I interpret as we go along, we shall sit here all night, and
get very little said."

Colville explained the difficulty to the Marquis de Gemosac, and
agreed with him that much time would be saved if Captain Clubbe
would be kind enough to tell in English all that he knew of the
nameless Frenchman buried in Farlingford churchyard, to be
translated by Colville to Monsieur de Gemosac at another time. As
Clubbe understood this, and nodded in acquiescence, there only
remained to them to draw the cork and light their cigars.