Christophe held the circle up to the multitude.
"It is the ring that my favourite gave to me," he said, "my favourite Mauresco, before he disappeared forever."
"That Mauresco fellow seemed to be a fascinating sort of chap," said the Smith, who had edged near me, in an undertone. "I understand all he says, but I think it is better to keep that fact quiet."
"I have already given you time enough," said the King. "Remove the prisoner! Throw him at once off the Grand Boucan!"
I arose. "Stop!" said I, "if it please your Majesty. I come of a family who deal in magic. To make a ring like that is simple work. I will promise to make you one if you will in turn deign to pardon the prisoners who have offended you."
When the interpreter had repeated my speech to Christophe, he turned on me with an incredulous air.
"That offer has been often made," he said, "but no one has ever performed it. Mauresco, my prime minister, my counsellor, the Grand Papaloi of the North, had given me a ring, but I have lost it. The one that he wore he carried away. I am wearing a poor imitation. It was cunningly artificed by skilful hands. Can you reproduce it?"
I felt the cold snake ring dangling against my bosom as I spoke. Christophe gazed at me with curiosity.
"Say to the King," said I, "that a bargain must be made. If I succeed in pleasing him with the symbol that I shall make, he in turn must promise to send me with my friends to the coast, where a ship will come for us to take us back to our good and great country."
The King thought a moment. He smiled his diabolical smile. He nodded his head several times and spoke to the interpreter.