“But how came he in the army?” inquired Wynnette.
“He was never in the army. He was no more a colonel than he was an Anglesea. Nor more a soldier than he was a gentleman. He was in the navy, as I said, and was kicked out of it. Lastly, he has turned up in the slave trade and the general piracy line of business as Capt. Silver.”
“Capt. Silver!” echoed every voice, except that of Abel Force.
“Yes, my darlings—Capt. Silver, of the Argente. Ostensibly blockade runner only. Subject only to the laws of war—to be held only as a prisoner of war. But really a slaver and a pirate, likely to be tried for his life and hanged for his crimes by this government; or if he should chance to escape conviction and execution here, where the punishment of crime is so very uncertain, still sure to be claimed by the British Government, under the extradition act, and hanged by us, who, you know, will stand no nonsense from slavers and pirates. But now, my darlings, let us leave the subject of the villain and turn to something pleasanter. Odalite, my dear, I congratulate you on your escape. And I hope, when we go down to the Argente this afternoon, we shall be able to bring Lieut. Force back with us.”
“Heaven grant it!” breathed Odalite, in a low and fervent voice.
“Where is Capt. Grandiere?” inquired Mrs. Force.
“He has gone to look up his mate, young Bayard,” replied Mr. Force.
“Oh, I hope he will bring Roland back with him!” sighed Rosemary, who was the frankest little creature in the world.
“I hope he may,” said Mr. Force.
“Come! Let us go down to dinner,” suggested the earl.