“As certain as the confession of the party himself can make us.”

“Confession, Signore!”

“Si, bella Ghita; confession—­your boatman—­your man of Capri—­your lazzarone confesses himself to be neither more nor less than the commander of that worker of iniquity, le Feu-Follet.”

“Does le Feu-Follet do more than other cruisers of the enemy?”—­but Ghita felt she was getting to be indiscreet, and she ceased.

“I do believe, Winchester,” said Cuffe, “that this is the very girl, and yonder is the very old man who came into Nelson’s cabin to-day with something to say about the poor prince who was executed this afternoon!”

“What could such people have in common with the unfortunate Caraccioli?”

“Sure enough—­yet these are the people.  The Queen of the Fleet—­our Lady Admiraless—­had it all to herself; and what passed between them, in Italian, I know no more than if it had been in Greek.  She never told me, you may rest assured; and, from the look of her eye, I question a good deal if she ever told Nelson.”

“I wish to heaven his lordship would cut adrift from his moorings alongside that craft, Captain Cuffe.  I do assure you, sir, the fleet begins to talk loudly on the subject;—­was it any other man, there’d be the devil to pay about it—­but we can all stand a good deal from Nelson and Bronte.”

“Well—­well—­let every man father his own children:  you ought to be quiet, Winchester, for he asked very kindly about your hurt to-day, and would have sent you aboard some knick-knack or other for the stomach, but I told him you were all a-tanto again and at duty.  What between his head and his arm and his eye, he’s got to be such a hulk himself that he thinks every wounded man a sort of a relation.  I should not complain, however, if the small-pox could lay hold of that beauty.”

“This has been a bad day’s work for England, depend on it, Captain Cuffe!”

“Well, if it has, St. Vincent and the Nile were good days’ works; and we’ll let one balance the other.  Inquire of this young woman, Mr. Griffin, if I had not the pleasure of seeing her to-day on board the Foudroyant?”

The question was put as desired, and Ghita quietly but unhesitatingly answered in the affirmative.

“Then ask her to explain how she happened to fall into the company of Raoul Yvard?”

“Signori,” said Ghita, naturally, for she had nothing to conceal on this point, “we live on Monte Argentaro, where my uncle is the keeper of the Prince’s towers.  You know, we have much to fear from the barbarians along all that coast; and last season, when the peace with France kept the Inglesi at a distance—­I know not how it is, signore, but they say the barbarians are always hardest on the enemies of Inghilterra—­but, the past season a boat, from a rover had seized upon my uncle and myself and were carrying us off into captivity, when a Frenchman and his lugger rescued us.  From that time we became friends; and our friend has often stopped near our towers to visit us.  To-day we found him in a boat by the side of the English admiral’s ship; and, as an old acquaintance, he undertook to bring us to the Sorrentine shore, where we are at present staying with my mother’s sister.”