"Cotopaxo! Cotopaxo!" A rough shake awoke me.
It was the major, looking bluff but stern.

"Why, you're talking in your sleep!" he said;
"why the devil do you talk in your sleep? Bad
habit. Here we are at the breakfast-place."

"What was I talking about?" I asked, with
ill-concealed alarm.

"Some foreign gibberish," returned the major.

"Greek, I think," said Levison; "but I was
just off too."

We reached Marseilles. I rejoiced to see its
almond-trees and its white villas. I should feel
safer when I was on board ship, and my treasure
with me. I was not of a suspicious temperament,
but I had thought it remarkable that during that
long journey from Lyons to the seaboard, I had
never fallen asleep without waking and finding
an eye upon me—either the major's or his wife's.
Levison had slept during the last four hours
incessantly. Latterly, we had all of us grown silent,
and even rather sullen. Now we brightened up.

"Hôtel de Londres! Hôtel de l'Univers!
Hôtel Impérial!" cried the touts, as we stood
round our luggage, agreeing to keep together.

"Hôtel Impérial, of course," said the major;
"best house."

A one-eyed saturnine half-caste tout shrunk
up to us.

"Hôtel Impérial, sare. I am Hôtel Impérial;
all full; not a bed; no—pas de tout—no use,
sare!"

"Hang it! the steamer will be the next
thing to fail."

"Steamer, sare—accident with boiler; won't
start till minuit et vingt minutes—half-past
midnight, sare."

"Where shall we go?" said I, turning round
and smiling at the three blank faces of my
companions. "Our journey seems doomed to be
unlucky. Let us redeem it by a parting supper.
My telegraphing done, I am free till half-past
eleven."

"I will take you," said Levison, "to a small
but very decent hotel down by the harbour.
The Hôtel des Etrangers."

"Curséd low nasty crib—gambling place!"
said the major, lighting a cheroot, as he got into
an open fly.

Mr. Levison drew himself up in his punctilious
way. "Sir," he said, "the place is in new
hands, or I would not have recommended the
house, you may rely upon it."

"Sir," said the major, lifting his broad-brimmed
white hat, "I offer you my apologies.
I was not aware of that."

"My dear sir, never mention the affair again."

"Major, you're a hot-headed simpleton," were
Mrs. B.'s last words, as we drove off together.

As we entered a bare-looking salon with a
dinner-table in the middle and a dingy billiard-table
at one end, the major said to me, "I shall
go and wash and dress for the theatre, and then
take a stroll while you do your telegraphing.
Go up first, Julia, and see the rooms."

"What slaves we poor women are!" said Mrs.
B., as she sailed out.

"And I," said Levison, laying down his railway
rug, "shall go out and try and do some
business before the shops shut. We have agents
here in the Canabière."

"Only two double-bedded rooms, sare," said
the one-eyed tout, who stood over the luggage.

"That will do," said Levison, promptly, and
with natural irritation at our annoyances. "My
friend goes by the boat to-night; he does not
sleep here. His luggage can be put in my
room, and he can take the key, in case he comes
in first."

"Then now we are all right," said the major.
"So far, so good!"

When I got to the telegraph-office, I found a
telegram from London awaiting me. To my
surprise and horror, it contained only these
words:

"You are in great danger. Do not wait a
moment on shore. There is a plot against you.
Apply to the prefect for a guard."

It must be the major, and I was in his hands!
That rough hearty manner of his was all a trick.
Even now, he might be carrying off the chests.
I telegraphed back:

"Safe at Marseilles. All right up to this."

Thinking of the utter ruin of our house if I
were robbed, and of dear Minnie, I flew back to
the hotel, which was situated in a dirty narrow
street near the harbour. As I turned down the
street, a man darted from a doorway and seized
my arm. It was one of the waiters. He said
hurriedly, in French: "Quick, quick, monsieur;
Major Baxter is anxious to see you, instantly, in
the salon. There is no time to lose."

I ran to the hotel, and darted into the salon.
There was the major pacing up and down in
extraordinary excitement; his wife was looking
anxiously out of window. The manner of both
was entirely changed. The major ran up and
seized me by the hand. "I am a detective
officer, and my name is Arnott," he said. "That
man Levison is a notorious thief. He is at this
moment in his room, opening one of your specie
chests. You must help me to nab him. I knew
his little game, and have check-mated him. But
I wanted to catch him in the act. Julia, finish
that brandy-and-water while Mr. Blamyre and
myself transact our business. Have you got a
revolver, Mr. Blamyre, in case he shows fight?
I prefer this." (He pulled out a staff.)

"I have left my revolver in the bedroom,"
I breathlessly exclaimed.

"That's bad; never mind, he is not likely to
hit us in the flurry. He may not even think of
it. You must rush at the door at the same
moment as I do. These foreign locks are never
any good. It's No. 15. Gently!"

We came to the door. We listened a
moment. We could hear the sound of money
chinking in a bag. Then a low dry laugh, as
Levison chuckled over the word he had heard me
utter in my sleep. "Cotopaxo—ha! ha!"

The major gave the word, and we both rushed
at the door. It shook, splintered, was driven in.
Levison, revolver in hand, stood over the open