“Hannah told Rochfort that for a certain sum she could, by means of her magic art, cause the carriages of the bride to lose its way, and come voluntarily into her power. It was a trick on her part, but Rochfort believed it to be true, for he knew nothing of what we had done in the matter, and remains in ignorance of it up to the present moment.”
“So that is your adventure, eh?”
“It is, Captain Death-wing; we came back to the Rendezvous much richer than we went forth, and without receiving a single scar.”
“Very well done indeed,” said Death-wing, quaffing off more wine, and becoming very talkative. “Very well done indeed; but the thieves or professional gentlemen of the present day are not worth a pinch of snuff compared to what have been in my lifetime.”
“You have been in France, then, I heard you say?” observed Redgill.
“France! why of course I have; where is there a place I haven’t been to, I should like to know? I belonged to a gang there when I was young.
“It was made up of both English and French; English I mean who were obliged to leave their country for their country’s good, men who preferred exile to death.
“Well, when I was first introduced to the gang, it was in its full glory.
“We had a great many members in different parts, but the most cruel among them all was one we called the ‘Scorcher,’ and from him we were always afterwards called ‘Scorchers.’”
“This man, hardened as I am now, looked to me like a devil, and through all the years I have lived, I cannot forget the cold-blooded villany of the ‘Old Scorcher,’ who used to roast the feet of all those who would not confess where their money and valuables were. Now we are more merciful than that,” said Death-wing, laughing. “We kill ’em outright, and don’t torture; it’s much quicker and better, I think. But let me go on with my story.