to go below
and try to sleep. He had taken her in his arms at parting, and she clung
to him with an earnestness born of her forebodings. It was thus that
Roberval surprised them.

The first intimation they had of his presence was an oath which sounded
suddenly out of the darkness. Claude leaped back and drew his rapier. De
Roberval stood before him with drawn sword. Unable to stand by and
witness a combat between her uncle and her lover, Marguerite threw
herself between them.

"Consider, I beg of you, Monsieur," said Claude, hurriedly; "your
niece's honour is at stake. If we attract the attention of the watch
the fair name of a De Roberval will be for ever sullied."

Roberval lowered his weapon.

"You say truly," he remarked grimly, "though the suggestion comes a
trifle late, methinks. I should dishonour my sword to draw it on a liar
and a coward. Handcuffs and the hold will be a more fitting fate for
such as you."

At these words even Claude's endurance gave way, and disregarding
Marguerite's entreaties, he threw himself upon De Roberval. The scuffle
attracted the watch, and several of the sailors came running up. In the
darkness and confusion it was impossible to distinguish anything
clearly, but Claude was soon overpowered, and De Roberval's voice made
itself heard above the roar of the elements, calling for manacles.
Gaillon appeared with them as if by magic; and before the crew had time
to realise anything but the fact that their commander had been
assaulted, Claude's wrists were chained together, and he was powerless.
As Gaillon finished adjusting the handcuffs, the young Picard before
mentioned, who was the only other person to grasp the situation, threw
himself upon the spy, and clutched his throat. Almost as his fingers
closed they relaxed their grip again, and he fell headlong on the deck.
A few moments he writhed in agony, and when he was raised it was found
that he was quite dead, though no mark of violence could be found upon
him.

"It is a judgment of Heaven," said Gaillon, devoutly crossing himself.

"A judgment of Hell, rather, from whence you came," muttered De
Roberval. "But you have done your work well. Heave the carrion
overboard," added he, giving the young sailor's body a contemptuous
kick. "And now to the hold with that villain. And you," turning, to his
niece, "to your cabin with you. I shall have more to say to you
to-morrow."

The whole scene had passed so quickly that before the bew