“Which of the two Counts of Cadillac are you—Jules, or Jean?” asked Nick, still retaining his seat in the chair, but removing the mask from his face and holding it in his disengaged hand.
The pirate smiled cynically. He wore no mask, nor was there a sign of a frown upon his handsome face.
“Really, monsieur,” he replied, “we are so much alike that we frequently have difficulty in determining the answer to that question ourselves. You do not believe it? No? It is quite true, I assure you. You see, I am Jean as often as I am Jules, and Jules as often as I am Jean. What will you have, eh? I am both. I am neither.”
“At all events you are Captain Sparkle, the pirate.”
“Ah, monsieur! Am I, indeed? I might say the same of you.”
“How many men have you aboard this craft?”
“Since an hour ago, monsieur, I have not counted them. I really do not remember.”
Chick was standing behind the pirate, and now Nick Carter gave him a signal which the assistant perfectly understood. He suddenly stepped forward and seized Captain Sparkle’s arms, drawing them closely together behind his body, and while he held them there the detective rose from his chair and tossed a coil of small rope toward Kane.
“I found it in the stateroom,” he said. “Hold him, Kane, while Chick binds him with it.”
They bound his arms tightly together behind his back. Next they seated him in one of the chairs, and tied him there so securely that it was impossible for him to move, and then they drew back and regarded their work with satisfaction. Nick left his chair now, and stood in front of the pirate; and the latter, still with the utmost calmness, asked: