Jean Bart was delighted. He smiled like a child, seated himself at their table, and began to drink with these jovial men of the sea.
As he sat there, suddenly a paper was mysteriously shoved into his hand. He did not see from whence it came, and, as he scanned its contents, his face grew strangely pale.
“Beware of these fellows,” he read. “They mean to kill you if you do not do what they wish. Beware!”
Jean Bart soon regained his composure.
“Come! Let us go to the dining-room up-stairs,” said the friend who had first accosted him. “Come, my boys! We will there have far more quiet!”
All moved for the door.
Jean Bart moved, also, but before he went up-stairs, he loosened his sword-belt and cocked two pistols which he carried at his waist. He was not surprised when he saw them lock the stout door as they entered the room upon the second floor.
When they were all seated Jules Blanc arose. His face well exhibited his dislike for the successful privateersman, Jean Bart.
“Now, my friend,” said he, facing the man from Dunkirk, “we have you here with a purpose. We wish you to know that we are determined that you shall no longer go to sea and spoil our own business for us. You have had enough success. We want you to withdraw and give some one else a chance.”
Jean Bart smiled.