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He now moved into the shadow and leaned against
the railing of the pedestal.
"Well," he said, returning to his atrocious
French; "and what is it you want?"
"I want to get away from here----"
"Aha! Stowaway! Want me to hide you?
Been up to something, I suppose. Stuck a knife
into somebody, eh? Just like these foreigners!
And where might you be wanting to go? Not
to the police station, I fancy?"
He laughed in his tipsy way, and winked one eye.
"What vessel do you belong to?"
"Carlotta--Leghorn to Buenos Ayres; shipping
oil one way and hides the other. She's over
there"--pointing in the direction of the breakwater
--"beastly old hulk!"
"Buenos Ayres--yes! Can you hide me anywhere on board?"
"How much can you give?"
"Not very much; I have only a few paoli."
"No. Can't do it under fifty--and cheap at
that, too--a swell like you."
"What do you mean by a swell? If you like my
clothes you may change with me, but I can't give
you more money than I have got."
"You have a watch there.


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