But now, just as he had almost twisted his neck free, I heard a stone or two break away above us, and down came Billy Pottery flying atop of us, and pinned us to the ledge.
’Twas short work now. Within a minute, Captain Luke Settle was turned on his back, his eyes fairly starting with Billy’s clutch on his throat, his mouth wide open and gasping; till I slipp’d the nozzle of my pistol between his teeth; and with that he had no more chance, but gave in, and like a lamb submitted to have his arms truss’d behind him with Billy’s leathern belt, and his legs with his own.
“Now,” said I, standing over him, and putting the pistol against his temple, “you and I, Master Turncoat Settle, have some accounts that ’twould be well to square. So first tell me, what do you here, and where is Mistress Delia Killigrew?”
I think that till this moment the bully had no idea his assailants were more than a chance couple of Cornish troopers. But now seeing the glow of the burning charcoal on my face, he ripped out a horrid blasphemous curse, and straightway fell to speaking calmly.
“Good sirs, the game is yours, with care. S’lid! but you hold a pretty hand—if only you know how to play it.”
“’Tis you shall help me, Captain: but let us be clear about the stakes. For you, ’tis life or death: for me, ’tis to regain Mistress Delia, failing which I shoot you here through the head, and topple you into the sea. You are the Knave of trumps, sir, and I play that card: as matters now stand, only the Queen can save you.”
“Right: but where be King and Ace?”
“The King is the Cornish army, yonder: the Ace is my pistol here, which I hold.”
“And that’s a very pretty comprehension of the game, sir: I play the Queen.”
“Where is she?”