“And had you been captain, should you have retained him in his employment?”
“Not if the choice had remained with me, for I had frequently observed inaccuracies in his accounts.”
“Good again! Now then, tell me, was any person present during your last conversation with Captain Leclère?”
“No; we were quite alone.”
“Could your conversation have been overheard by anyone?”
“It might, for the cabin door was open—and—stay; now I recollect—Danglars himself passed by just as Captain Leclère was giving me the packet for the grand marshal.”
“That’s better,” cried the abbé; “now we are on the right scent. Did you take anybody with you when you put into the port of Elba?”
“Nobody.”
“Somebody there received your packet, and gave you a letter in place of it, I think?”
“Yes; the grand marshal did.”
“And what did you do with that letter?”
“Put it into my portfolio.”
“You had your portfolio with you, then? Now, how could a sailor find room in his pocket for a portfolio large enough to contain an official letter?”
“You are right; it was left on board.”