The roughly-dressed, rougher-looking men lay, or sat, scattered about in every direction, some asleep on the floor, some talking in low tones, and others amusing themselves as they pleased. In a remote corner sat the woman Marguerite, her arms dropped on a little table, her head lying on them, as if asleep. Her presence accounted for the unusual stillness of the men.
She was not asleep, however. As the new-comers entered, she lifted her head quickly, and after a fleeting glance at her husband, fixed her eyes steadfastly on the stranger. His strange resemblance to her husband was the first thing to strike her. She half-started up, dashed back her wild, disheveled black hair, and gazed upon him with a sharp, suspicious look. The men, too, stopped in their customary avocations to look at the new-comer, and scan him from head to foot with inquiring eyes. Ray’s dark, flashing eyes fearlessly encountered theirs, as he glanced vainly around the room in search of Pet.
“Another prisoner, my good lads,” said Captain Reginald, as he entered.
“Who is he, captain? who is he?” chorused half a dozen voices together.
“His name I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing. Seeing us under the rocks, and being of an inquiring spirit, he leaped down among us, and without ceremony, presented himself. Wishing to indulge the said spirit of inquiry, I persuaded him to accompany me here, and have much pleasure in making you acquainted with him now. He is very urgent to find out what has become of Miss Lawless: and as he is evidently a friend, perhaps a lover of hers, I could do no less than promise to let him see and console her in her captivity.”
This speech, which was delivered in his customary half-careless, half-mocking tone, was received with a cheer and a laugh by the men. Ray, flushed and irritated, turned to the speaker, and said, passionately:
“Let me see her, then! Where is she?”
“Easy, my dear young friend—easy! Getting excited and fierce never pays in this world. You will see the young lady time enough.”
At this moment, the woman Marguerite approached, and laying her hand on her husband’s arm, and fixing her sharp black eyes on his face, pointed to Ray, and said something in a low, rapid tone in French.
“Ya-as,” drawled Captain Reginald, passing his hand carelessly over his thick, black whiskers, and looking indifferently at the young man. “It is rather strange. I noticed the resemblance myself. How is your captive?”