s in his hammock asleep.

In the night Tangrouille awoke. It was his nightly habit. Every drunkard
who is not his own master has his secret hiding-place. Tangrouille had
his, which he called his store. The secret store of Tangrouille was in
the hold. He had placed it there to put others off the scent. He thought
it certain that his hiding-place was known only to himself. Captain
Clubin, being a sober man himself, was strict. The little rum or gin
which the helmsman could conceal from the vigilant eyes of the captain,
he kept in reserve in this mysterious corner of the hold, and nearly
every night he had a stolen interview with the contents of this store.
The surveillance was rigorous, the orgie was a poor one, and
Tangrouille's nightly excesses were generally confined to two or three
furtive draughts. Sometimes it happened that the store was empty. This
night Tangrouille had found there an unexpected bottle of brandy. His
joy was great; but his astonishment greater. From what cloud had it
fallen? He could not remember when or how he had ever brought it into
the ship. He soon, however, consumed the whole of it; partly from
motives of prudence, and partly from a fear that the brandy might be
discovered and seized. The bottle he threw overboard. In the morning,
when he took the helm, Tangrouille exhibited a slight oscillation of the
body.

He steered, however, pretty nearly as usual.

With regard to Clubin, he had gone, as the reader knows, to sleep at the
Jean Auberge.

Clubin always wore, under his shirt, a leathern travelling belt, in
which he kept a reserve of twenty guineas; he took this belt off only at
night. Inside the belt was his name "Clubin," written by himself on the
rough leather, with thick lithographer's ink, which is indelible.

On rising, just before his departure, he put into this girdle the iron
box containing the seventy-five thousand francs in bank-notes; then, as
he was accustomed to do, he buckled the belt round his body.

III

CONVERSATIONS INTERRUPTED

The Durande started pleasantly. The passengers, as soon as their bags
and portmanteaus were installed upon and under the benches, took that
customary survey of the vessel which seems indispensable under the
circumstances. Two of the passengers--the tourist and the Parisian--had
never seen a steam-vessel before, and from the moment the paddles began
to revolve, they stood admiring the foam. Then they looked with
wonderment at the sm