“Yessir.”

“That’ll be all.”

“What d’ y’ think?” asked Holleran, on the return to the Place des Palmiers, for the two were still hungry.

“Think?  There’s a fight, bucko!” jubilantly.

“These pleasure-boats sure become monotonous.”  Holleran rubbed his dark hands.  “When d’ y’ think it’ll begin?”

“I wish ut wus t’day.”

“I’ve seen y’ do some fine work with th’ peg.”

They had really seen Picard and Breitmann talking together.  The acquaintanceship might have dated from the sailing of the Laura, and again it mightn’t.  At least, M. Ferraud, who overheard the major part of the conversation, later in the day, was convinced that Picard had joined the crew of the Laura for no other purpose than to be in touch with Breitmann.  There were some details, however, which would be acceptable.  He followed them to the Rue Fesch, to a trattoria, but entered from the rear.  M. Ferraud never assumed any disguises, but depended solely upon his adroitness in occupying the smallest space possible.  So, while the two conspirators sat at a table on the sidewalk, M. Ferraud chose his inside, under the grilled window which was directly above them.

“Everything is in readiness,” said Picard.

“Thanks to you, duke.”

“To-night you and your old boatman Pietro will leave for Aitone.  The admiral and his party will start early to-morrow morning.  No matter what may happen, he will find no drivers till morning.  The drivers all understand what they are to do on the way back from Evisa.  I almost came to blows with that man Flanagan.  I wasn’t expecting him ashore.  And I could not stand the grime and jeans a minute longer.  Perhaps he will believe it a case of mistaken identity.  At any rate he will not find out the truth till it’s too late for him to make a disturbance.  We have had wonderful luck!”

A cart rumbled past, and the listener missed a few sentences.  What did the drivers understand?  What was going to happen on the way back from Evisa?  Surely, Breitmann did not intend that the admiral should do the work and then be held up later.  The old American sailor wasn’t afraid of any one, and he would shoot to kill.  No, no; Breitmann meant to secure the gold alone.  But the drivers worried M. Ferraud.  He might be forced to change his plans on their account.  He wanted full details, not puzzling components.  Quiet prevailed once more.

“Women in affairs of this sort are always in the way,” said Picard.

M. Ferraud did not hear what Breitmann replied.

“Take my word for it,” pursued Picard, “this one will trip you; and you can not afford to trip at this stage.  We are all ready to strike, man.  All we want is the money.  Every ten francs of it will buy a man.  We leave Marseilles in your care; the rest of us will carry the word on to Lyons, Dijon and Paris.  With this unrest in the government, the army scandals, the dissatisfied employees, and the idle, we shall raise a whirlwind greater than ’50 or ’71.  We shall reach Paris with half a million men.”