reless
liberality.

Paul broke into a grudging laugh.

"What are you going to tell old Guillaume?" he asked.

"I'm going to tell him that my claim against his employers is reduced
by the amount that I have had the honour to hand you, M. de Roustache.
Pardon me, but you seem to forget the remark I permitted myself to make
just now." And the Captain pointed to the river.

Paul rose and stamped his feet on the ground; he looked at his
companion, and his surprise burst out in the question, "You really mean
to let me go with five and twenty thousand francs!"

"I act as I am sure the lady whose name has been unavoidably mentioned
would wish to act."

Paul stared again, then sniggered again, and pocketed his spoil.

"Only you must understand that--that the mine is worked out, my friend.
I think your way lies there." He pointed towards the road that led up
from the ford to Sasellano.

Still Paul lingered, seeming to wish to say something that he found
difficult to phrase.

"I was devilish hard up," he muttered at last.

"That is always a temptation," said the Captain, gravely.

"A fellow does things that--that look queer. I say, would n't that odd
five thousand come in handy for yourself?"

The Captain looked at him; almost he refused the unexpected offer
scornfully; but something in Paul's manner made him cry, quite
suddenly, almost unconsciously, "Why, my dear fellow, if you put it
that way--yes! As a loan from you to me, eh?"

"A loan? No--I--I--"

"Be at ease. Loan is the term we use between gentlemen--eh?" The
Captain tried to curl his moist, uncurlable moustache.

And Paul de Roustache handed him back five thousand francs.

"My dear fellow!" murmured the Captain, as he stowed the notes in
safety. He held out his hand; Paul de Roustache shook it and turned
away. Dieppe stood watching him as he went, making not direct for the
Sasellano road, but shaping a course straight up the hill, walking as
though he hardly knew where he was going. So he passed out of the
Captain's sight--and out of the list of the Countess of Fieramondi's
creditors.

A little smile dwelt for a moment on Dieppe's face.

"I myself am very nearly a rascal sometimes," said he.

Crack! crack! The sound of a whip rang clear; the clatter of hoofs and
the grind of a wheel on the skid followed. A carriage dashed down the
hill from Sasellano. Paul de Roustache had seen it, and stooped low
for a moment in instinctive fear of