But he had scarcely run his eyes over some of the sheets before he stopped his reading.

He had come across the name of Freya Talberg.

This lawyer had been her defender before the Council of War.
Ferragut hastened to put the letter in a safe place, and curb his impatience.

He felt that necessity for silent isolation and absolute solitude which a reader, anxious to delve into a new book, experiences.
This bundle of papers doubtless contained for him the most interesting of stories.
Returning to his ship, the road seemed to him far longer than at other times.

He longed to lock himself in his stateroom, away from all curiosity as though he were about to perform some mysterious rite.
Freya was not in existence.