“Eh—­he called himself Sir Smees, a capitano in the service of the English king.”

“What vessel did he pretend to command?”

“Ze Ving-y-Ving—­a lugger, which I have since had reason to think is le Feu-Follet, a corsair under the French flag.  Monsieur did me the favor to make two visits to Porto Ferrajo in the character of Sir Smees.”

“And you know now that this is Raoul Yvard, the French privateersman you have mentioned?”

“Eh—­know?—­I know they say this is the Signor Yvard, and that ze Ving-y-Ving is le Feu-Follet.”

“They say will not do, Signor Barrofaldi.  Can you not say this much of your own knowledge?”

“Non, Signore.”

The court was now cleared; when it re-opened Vito Viti was sent for and properly sworn, his attention being particularly directed to the cross on the back of the book.

“Did you ever see the prisoner before this occasion, Signor Viti?” demanded the Judge Advocate, after the preliminary questions had been put.

“Signore, oftener than it is agreeable to remember.  I do not think that two grave magistrates were ever more mystified than were the vice-governatore and myself!  Eh-h-h—­Signori, the wisest sometimes become like sucking children, when there passes a mist before the understanding.”

“Relate the circumstances under which this occurred, to the court, Signor Podesta.”

“Why, Signori, the facts were just these.  Andrea Barrofaldi, as you know, is the vice-governatore of Porto Ferrajo, and I am its unworthy podesta.  Of course it is our duty to look into all matters affecting the public weal, and more especially into the business and occupations of strangers who come into our island.  Well, it is now three weeks or more since the lugger or felucca was seen—­”

“Which was it, a felucca or a lugger?” demanded the Judge Advocate, holding his pen ready to write the answer.

“Both, Signore; a felucca and a lugger.”

“Ah—­there were two; a felucca and a lugger.”

“No, Signore; but this felucca was a lugger.  Tommaso Tonti wished to mystify me about that, too; but I have not been podesta in a seaport so many years for nothing.  No, Signori, there are all sorts of feluccas—­ship-feluccas, brig-feluccas, and lugger-feluccas.”

When this answer was translated, the members of the court smiled, while Raoul Yvard laughed out honestly.

“Well, Signor Podesta,” resumed the Judge Advocate—­“the prisoner came into Porto Ferrajo in a lugger?”

“So it was said, Signore.  I did not see him actually on board of her, but he professed to be the commander of a certain vessel, in the service of the King of Inghilterra, called ze Ving-y-Ving, and said that his own name was Smees—­si—­il capitano, or Sir Smees.”

“Professed?  Do you not know that this lugger was the notorious French privateer, le Feu-Follet?”