I forgot to mention before that the Tremolino was officially known as a fruit and cork-wood trader.  The zealous officer managed to slip a useful piece of paper into Dominic’s hand as he went ashore, and a few hours afterwards, being off duty, he returned on board again athirst for drinks and gratitude.  He got both as a matter of course.  While he sat sipping his liqueur in the tiny cabin, Dominic plied him with questions as to the whereabouts of the guardacostas.  The preventive service afloat was really the one for us to reckon with, and it was material for our success and safety to know the exact position of the patrol craft in the neighbourhood.  The news could not have been more favourable.  The officer mentioned a small place on the coast some twelve miles off, where, unsuspicious and unready, she was lying at anchor, with her sails unbent, painting yards and scraping spars.  Then he left us after the usual compliments, smirking reassurringly over his shoulder.

I had kept below pretty close all day from excess of prudence.  The stake played on that trip was big.

“We are ready to go at once, but for Cesar, who has been missing ever since breakfast,” announced Dominic to me in his slow, grim way.

Where the fellow had gone, and why, we could not imagine.  The usual surmises in the case of a missing seaman did not apply to Cesar’s absence.  He was too odious for love, friendship, gambling, or even casual intercourse.  But once or twice he had wandered away like this before.

Dominic went ashore to look for him, but returned at the end of two hours alone and very angry, as I could see by the token of the invisible smile under his moustache being intensified.  We wondered what had become of the wretch, and made a hurried investigation amongst our portable property.  He had stolen nothing.

“He will be back before long,” I said confidently.

Ten minutes afterwards one of the men on deck called out loudly: 

“I can see him coming.”

Cesar had only his shirt and trousers on.  He had sold his coat, apparently for pocket-money.

“You knave!” was all Dominic said, with a terrible softness of voice.  He restrained his choler for a time.  “Where have you been, vagabond?” he asked menacingly.

Nothing would induce Cesar to answer that question.  It was as if he even disdained to lie.  He faced us, drawing back his lips and gnashing his teeth, and did not shrink an inch before the sweep of Dominic’s arm.  He went down as if shot, of course.  But this time I noticed that, when picking himself up, he remained longer than usual on all fours, baring his big teeth over his shoulder and glaring upwards at his uncle with a new sort of hate in his round, yellow eyes.  That permanent sentiment seemed pointed at that moment by especial malice and curiosity.  I became quite interested.  If he ever manages to put poison in the dishes, I thought to myself, this is how he will look at us as we sit at our meal.  But I did not, of course, believe for a moment that he would ever put poison in our food.  He ate the same things himself.  Moreover, he had no poison.  And I could not imagine a human being so blinded by cupidity as to sell poison to such an atrocious creature.