“French!” Captain Blood's light eyes stabbed at Levasseur, then at the prisoners.
M. d'Ogeron stood tense and braced as before, but the grey horror had left his face. Hope had leapt within him at this interruption, obviously as little expected by his tormentor as by himself. His sister, moved by a similar intuition, was leaning forward with parted lips and gaping eyes.
Captain Blood fingered his lip, and frowned thoughtfully upon Levasseur.
“Yesterday you surprised me by making war upon the friendly Dutch. But now it seems that not even your own countrymen are safe from you.”
“Have I not said that these... that this is a matter personal to me?”
“Ah! And their names?”
Captain Blood's crisp, authoritative, faintly disdainful manner stirred Levasseur's quick anger. The blood crept slowly back into his blenched face, and his glance grew in insolence, almost in menace. Meanwhile the prisoner answered for him.
“I am Henri d'Ogeron, and this is my sister.”
“D'Ogeron?” Captain Blood stared. “Are you related by chance to my good friend the Governor of Tortuga?”
“He is my father.”