“I know they say so now, Signori; but the vice-governatore and I supposed her to be ze Ving-y-Ving.”

“And do you not know that the prisoner is actually Raoul Yvard; of your own knowledge, I mean?”

“Corpo di Bacco!—­How should I know any such thing, Signor Guideca-Avvocato,” exclaimed Vito Viti, who literally translated what he understood to be the title of his interrogator, thereby converting him into a sort of ship-felucca—­“how should I know any such thing?  I do not keep company with corsairs, except when they come upon, our island and call themselves ‘Sir Smees.’”

The Judge Advocate and the members of the court looked gravely at each other.  No one in the least doubted that the prisoner was Raoul Yvard, but it was necessary legally to prove it before he could be condemned.  Cuffe was now asked if the prisoner had not confessed his own identity, but no one could say he had done so in terms, although his conversation would seem to imply as much.  In a word, justice was like to be in what is by no means an unusual dilemma for that upright functionary, viz., unable to show a fact that no one doubted.  At length Cuffe recollected Ghita and Ithuel, and he wrote their names on a piece of paper, and passed them down the table to the Judge Advocate.  The latter nodded his head, as much as to say he understood the president’s meaning; and then he told the prisoner he might cross-examine the witness if he saw fit.

Raoul fully understood his situation.  Although he certainly had not entered the Bay of Naples with any of the ordinary views of a spy, he was aware how far he had committed himself, and foresaw the readiness with which his enemies would destroy him, could they find the legal means of so doing.  He also comprehended the dilemma in which his accusers were placed for the want of testimony, and at once resolved to turn the circumstance as much as possible to his advantage.  Until that moment the idea of denying his own identity had never crossed his mind; but perceiving what he fancied an opening for escape, it was but natural to avail himself of its protection.  Turning, then, to the podesta, he put his questions in English, that they might go fairly through the same process of interpretation as the rest of the examination.

“You say, Signor Podesta,” he commenced, “that you saw me in the town of Porto Ferrajo and in the island of Elba?”

“Si—­in which town I have the honor to be one of the authorities.”

“You say I professed to command a vessel in the service of the King of England; a felucca, called ze Ving-and-Ving?”

“Si—­ze Ving-y-Ving—­the commander of that felucca.”

“I understood you to say, Mr. Podesta,” put in Lyon, “that the craft was a lugger?”

“A felucca-lugger, Signor Capitano—­nothing more nor less than that, on my honor.”

“And all these honorable officers well know,” observed Raoul, ironically, “that a felucca-lugger and a lugger such as le Feu-Follet is understood to be are very different things.  Now, Signore, you have never heard me say that I am a Frenchman?”