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"They were in the Dutch brig."
"I don't remember that you mentioned them before."
"I did not. They are prisoners of my own - a personal matter.
They are French."
"French!" Captain Blood's light eyes stabbed at Levasseur, then at
the prisoners.
M. d'Ogeron stood tense and braced as before, but the grey horror
had left his face. Hope had leapt within him at this interruption,
obviously as little expected by his tormentor as by himself. His
sister, moved by a similar intuition, was leaning forward with
parted lips and gaping eyes.
Captain Blood fingered his lip, and frowned thoughtfully upon
Levasseur.
"Yesterday you surprised me by making war upon the friendly Dutch.
But now it seems that not even your own countrymen are safe from
you."
"Have I not said that these... that this is a matter personal to
me?"
"Ah! And their names?"
Captain Blood's crisp, authoritative, faintly disdainful manner
stirred Levasseur's quick anger. The blood crept slowly back into
his blenched face, and his glance grew in insolence, almost in
menace.


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