That would never do, Griffin: so we'll just step out and overhaul his log in French, and send him off to England to a prison-ship, by the first return vessel." As this was said, the four in the after-cabin left it together and stood before this new prisoner.

Of course Ithuel understood all that was said in English, while the very idea of being catechized in French threw him into a cold sweat.

In this strait the idea suddenly crossed his mind that his greatest security would be in feigning dumbness.
"_Ecoutez, mon ami_" commenced Griffin, in very respectable English-French, "you are to tell me nothing but the truth, and it may be all the better for you.

You belong to the Feu-Follet, of course ?" Ithuel shook his head in strong disgust and endeavored to make a sound that he intended to represent a dumb man struggling to utter the word "Napoli." "What is the fellow after, Griffin ?" said Cuffe.

"Can it be he doesn't understand French?
Try him a touch in Italian, and let us see what he will say to that." Griffin repeated very much what he had said before, merely changing the language, and received the same gagging sounds for an answer.