looked round at his circle of listeners, as though calling them
to witness the strenuous nature of service with the English, and
followed. He found Mr. Spokesly pausing irresolutely by the foot of the
stairs, confronting a large woman with strongly marked brows and a
severe expression who was descending the stairs with the air of a
proprietress.

"Ah, Madame Antigone," said Plouff in hurried French. "This gentleman is
the lieutenant of my ship. He has an assignation with a young lady who
lives in a house near by."

The woman regarded Plouff steadily and shook her head. She was turning
away as though she took no interest whatever in the matter.

"This is not a house of assignation," she said gravely, merely recording
a casual fact.

"Oh, most surely not!" ejaculated the eloquent Plouff. "Madame totally
misunderstands the situation. All that was suggested was that possibly
Madame would permit the young lady to enter the garden. We have a boat,
and here am I to row. Madame, to-morrow we sail; it is the last night
for us. You can understand, Madame?"

Whether Madame understood or not was locked in her own broad, handsome
bosom. She advanced as though Joseph Plouff and Mr. Spokesly had no
corporeal existence, shaking her head and muttering softly that it was
impossible. For a second the defeated bosun stood looking after her.
Impossible? The massive form of Madame Antigone swam forward into the
cafe and passed out of view. So it was impossible. Plouff became aware
of his chief officer's expression.

"What are we going to do now?" said Mr. Spokesly irritably, going
towards the garden. "Lot of use you are with your Frenchy friends. Let's
get out of this."

"How could I help it?" demanded Plouff, breaking into a trot to keep up
with Mr. Spokesly's anxious stride. "What's the matter, anyway? You
don't understand, Mister. This way, round here. This is the path. Look
out, you might hit your head--very low here under the trees. No, not
yet. Here's the--that's it. Where are you goin' now? To the house?"
Plouff whispered, a little out of breath, for Mr. Spokesly had been
striding along oblivious to everything. What was the matter with the
man? What was it to him if the girl did miss her passage? Ah!----Plouff,
as they came out upon a soft-earth cart-track that led away into the
darkness, had a sort of spasm in his brain. Of course! This was an
_enlevement_. Ha! What a wooden-headed booby he had been to miss an
obvious thing