"Hush!" interrupted Burrell, changing colour, and looking round the room cautiously; "you must be very careful, Dalton, how you say any thing about——"
"Ha! ha! ha! So you look for a troop of old Noll's Ironsides to bounce from under these packages in this good Isle of Shepey; or, mayhap, expect to see him start forth from behind his own Acts, which you perceive garnish my walls—the walls of my secret palace, so splendidly; but I may talk about his Highness, ay, and about the prisoners you escorted here, despite the loyal men of Kent, for me to ship to the Colonies—and—. But no matter, no matter; Noll knew I did it, for he knows every thing. Well, sir, you seem so alarmed, that I'm dumb as a sand-bank; only this, his Highness is far enough off to-night, and you need fear no other Olivers, for England will never see but one."
"True, true—good Dalton!—but tell me, are you often on the French coast now?"
"Yes, I'm grown old, and, though my little Fire-fly is still bright and beautiful, and her ivories as biting, her guns, sir, as musical as ever, yet I'm done with the Colonies; they ruin a man's morals and his health; but I do a little, just by way of amusement, or practice, with Flanders and France, and a run now and then to Lisbon."
"How long is it since you've been to St. Vallery?"
"Some time now; I was at Dieppe last month, and that is very near."
"Dalton, you must make St. Vallery before this moon is out, and execute a little commission for me."
"Very good, sir; we have never disputed about terms. What is it? any thing in the way of silks, or——"
"It is flesh, human flesh, Dalton."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Buccaneer, rising and recoiling from the knight. "I've had enough of that, and I'll have no more. Sir Willmott Burrell, you must seek out another man."