“And when did they leave?”
“Leave, monsieur! They have not left. There are two of the gentlemen in the very next room.”
There was a sound as though a single person had arisen; then footsteps slowly crossed the floor, and in a moment a tall, fine looking man with black hair, and a face of remarkable paleness, stood in the doorway and regarded the two occupants of the smaller room fixedly. There was a calm insolence in his air that was peculiarly exasperating, and Captain Paul Jones rapped out in a peppery tone,
“I trust, sir, that this inspection is affording you as much satisfaction as it is us discomfort.”
“Your name, sir,” demanded the man with great coolness.
“My name is my own,” returned John Paul Jones, “and I don’t choose to give it to every fellow that asks it in a public house.”
The man turned and beckoned; in a moment the burly form of Blake was at his side.
“Is this the captain and the boy of whom you spoke?” asked he.
“Yes, it is, Mr. Danvers,” replied Blake, scowling blackly, to hide his embarrassment. He did not like the look in his captain’s eye.
“So, sir,” cried the latter, “I find you here, do I? Your leave ashore was for fifteen hours only.”