“We think that you should retire for we want some pickings for ourselves.”
“And if I refuse?” queried Jean Bart.
Jules Blanc placed his hand instantly upon his sword-hilt.
“Then—there will be trouble!”
“Poof!” said Jean Bart.
As he spoke, all drew their rapiers.
“Again Poof!” said Jean Bart.
As he spoke, a thrust came from his right. He parried it, leaped upon a chair, and stood there smiling.
Crack! There was the sound of a pistol and a bullet whizzed by his ear.
Then there was a sudden and awful Crash! The room was filled with dust.