In all his life Frank thought he had never seen a man of such remarkable appearance.
His features were long and almost cadaverous. His eyes dark and piercing and burning with a strange light. He wore a sharp imperial and pointed mustache, with a saturnine smile which gave a truly Mephistophelian appearance.
In plain terms he was out and out the thorough type of the villain. Such both Frank and Wade adjudged him.
For a moment they sat there facing this strange being, who seemed like a portrait from a piratical past. Poole’s shifty gaze roamed over them, and then he spoke:
“I am honored by this visit, Mr. Reade. It is certainly fate which has thrown us together in this way, for I am very sure that we may be of mutual service to each other.”
“Indeed!” said Frank, with a little surprise; “I shall be pleased to know just how.”
“First I must tell you a story,” said Poole, with a crafty smile. “It concerns my mission and the character of my yacht and crew.”
“Really——”
“That is all right. I know that you have not failed to size up our peculiar appearance. Is it not true that we bear the appearance of latter-day pirates?”
“Why—I—I—had not thought much about that,” stammered Frank.