secret receptacle. By the light of a match he assured himself the paper he had taken from the cane was what he wanted.
"Larceny from the person—guilty," he murmured, with a wry smile of distaste. "But assault—unpremeditated."
The conveyance trundled down a long spit of stone and stopped by the side of a black hull, spotted with round eyes of light. The driver, scenting a tip, helped Woodhouse lift Capper to the ground and prop him against a bulk-head. A bos'n, summoned from La Vendée by the cabby's shrill whistle, heard Woodhouse's explanation with sympathy.
"Occasionally, yes, m'sieu, the passengers from Marseilles have these regrets at parting," he gravely commented, accepting the ticket Woodhouse had rummaged from the unconscious man's wallet and a crinkled note from Woodhouse's. Up the gangplank, feet first, went the new agent of the Wilhelmstrasse. The one who called himself "captain in his majesty's signal service" returned to his hotel.
At dawn, La Vendée cleared the harbor for Alexandria via Malta, bearing a very sick Billy Capper to his destiny. Five hours later the
