The Vicomte's eyes showed something of amusement behind their apathy.

But all listened.
"My tale, Miss Dorothea, is of a certain M.Benest, who until a few weeks ago was a prisoner on parole in one of your towns on the south coast.

He had been _chef de hune_ (which, as you know, is chief petty officer) of the _Embuscade_ frigate, captured by Sir John Warren.

In the action which lost her M.Benest lost a leg, and was placed in an English hospital, where they gave him a wooden one.
"Now how it came about that on his discharge he was allowed to live in a town--call it a village, rather--a haven, at any rate--where for a couple of napoleons he might have found a boat any night of the week to smuggle him over to Roscoff, is more than I can tell you.

It may be that he had once borne another name than Benest, one to command privileges: since many of my countrymen, as you know, have found it prudent in recent years to change their names and take up with callings below their real rank.