«But what am I to do, sir? What am I to do?»
Under his sleepy exterior, Captain Blood's wits were wide–awake and busy. It was within his experience of these officers sent overseas that they belonged almost without exception to one of two classes: they were either men who, like Coulevain, had dissipated their fortunes, or else younger sons with no fortunes to dissipate. Now, as he afterwards expressed it, he heaved the lead so as to sound the depth of Macartney's disinterestedness and honesty of purpose.
«You will give me up, of course, my Colonel. And the British Government will pay you the reward of a thousand pounds — five thousands pieces of eight.»
Each officer made a sharp movement at that, and from each came an almost inarticulate ejaculation of inquiry.
Captain Blood explained himself. «It is so provided by the agreement under which Major Macartney claims my surrender. Any reward for the apprehension of an escaped prisoner is payable to the person surrendering him to the authorities. Here, on French soil, it will be you, my Colonel, who will surrender me. Major Macartney is merely the representative of the authorities — the British Government — to whom I am surrendered.»
The Englishman's face lost some of its high colour; it lengthened; his mouth drooped; his very breathing quickened. Blood had heaved the lead to some purpose. It had given him the exact depth of Macartney, who stood now tongue–tied and crestfallen, forbidden by decency from making the least protest against the suddenly vanished prospect of a thousand pounds which he had been reckoning as good as in his pocket.
But this was not the only phenomenon produced by Blood's disclosure of the exact situation. Colonel de Coulevain, too, was oddly stricken. The sudden prospect of so easily acquiring this magnificent sum seemed to have affected him as oddly as the contrary had affected Macartney. This was an unexpected complication to the observant Captain Blood. But it led him at once to remember that Madame de Coulevain had described her husband as a broken gamester harassed by creditors. He wondered what would be the ultimate clash of the evil forces he was releasing, and almost ventured to hope that in that, when it came, as once before in a similar situation, would lie his opportunity.
«There is no more to be said, my Colonel,» he drawled. «Circumstances have been too much for me. I know when I've lost, and I must pay.» He yawned again. «Meanwhile, if I might have a little food and rest, I should be grateful. Perhaps Major Macartney will give me leave until this evening, when he can come to fetch me with an escort.»
Macartney swung aside, and paced towards the open windows. The elation, the masterfulness, had completely left him. He dragged his feet. His shoulders drooped. «Very well,» he said sourly, and checked his aimless wandering to turn towards the door. «I'll return for you at six o'clock.»
But on the threshold he paused…«You'll play me no tricks, Captain Blood?»