u will write. This man who is to die
to-morrow morning, and who will not know that his time has come until the
knock at the door of his cell when the hour strikes--this man and
another, who were imprisoned at the Isle of Pines, stole a small open
fishing-boat, and with the branch of a tree for a mast and a shirt for a
sail, started out in the desperate hope of eventually reaching Australia.
But the alarm was soon given, and they were pursued by such a _canot_ as
that in which you came here, mademoiselle, from Noumea. One of the
fugitives was mad enough to jump from the boat, scarcely knowing what he
did. In a moment he had ceased to live."

"He was shot?"

"Ah, no, mademoiselle. The waters here are literally alive with sharks.
Bathing even near shore is dangerous. A little farther out--but I will
say no more. You grow pale."

"That is nothing. And the other man--what of him?"

"He was captured; but he is a young, athletic fellow, and in his fury at
being retaken he snatched a surveillant's revolver and shot him dead. He
was tried, condemned to death, and to-morrow at sunrise, as I said, will
expiate his crime and folly."

Virginia was very white now--almost as white as the frock which she had
chosen from her prettiest for the subjugation of these men in authority.

"What is the man's name?" she ventured to ask, her voice sounding strange
and metallic in her own ears, her lips dry.

CHAPTER VIII

NUMBER 1280

"The man is without a name," said the Commandant. "He is a number. But
once he was known as Jean Fourneau."

Virginia breathed again. "And the one who was with him?"

"The man eaten by the sharks? He was called, in the world, Pierre Duval."

The girl could hardly restrain a murmur of the infinite relief she felt.
But she dared show no emotion. "I suppose you have all sorts and
conditions of men here?" she asked.

"From the highest to the lowest."

"Then there must be many interesting cases--quite romances. Do tell us
something about a few of the best."

"That is difficult. There are many cases which might interest you; but
they would shock you as well."

"I would trust you to choose. Have you any young men of good family who,
perhaps, committed their crimes for love?"

The Commandant smiled. "We have many such. There is the man who is called
the New Caledonian Dreyfus--Chatelain--who sold his country to please the
woman he loved. He is at Ducos. But perhaps the most notable example of
t