"This is the _Marie Renaud_, of and from Marseilles, for Bourbon, with a
general cargo."
I translated, turning to O'Gorman--and slightly away from the group of
Frenchmen--to do so; and while I was speaking a hand touched mine--which
I held, clenched, behind my back, with the letter, folded small, within
it--while a voice murmured in my ear:
"Your letter, monsieur?"