Another pause followed, then the Colonel's voice: «And now seal it here, where I have set the wax. The signet on your finger will serve.»
Captain Blood waited for no more. The long windows stood open to the garden over which the dusk was rapidly descending. He stepped noiselessly out and vanished amid the shrubs. About the stem of a tall silk–cotton tree he found a tough slender liana swarming like a snake. He brought out his knife, slashed it near the root, and drew it down.
As Captain Macartney, softly humming to himself, a heavy leathern bag in the crook of each arm, came presently down the avenue between the palms where the evening shadows were deepest, he tripped over what he conceived to be a rope stretched taut across the path, and spread–eagled forward with a crash.
Lying momentarily half–stunned by the heavy fall, a weight descended on his back, and in his ear a pleasant voice was murmuring in English, with a strong Irish accent: «I have no buccaneers, Major, no ship, no demi–cannon, and, as you remarked, not even a sword. But I still have my hands and my wits, and they should more than suffice to deal with a paltry rogue like you.»
«By God!» swore Macartney, though half–choked. «You shall hang for this, Captain Blood! By God, you shall!» Frenziedly he struggled to elude the grip of his assailant. His sword being useless in his present position, he sought to reach the pocket in which he carried a pistol, but, by the movement, merely betrayed its presence. Captain Blood possessed himself of it.
«Will you be quiet now?» he asked. «Or must I be blowing out your brains?»
«You dirty Judas! You thieving pirate! Is this how you keep faith?»
«I pledged you no faith, you nasty rogue. Your bargain was with the French colonel, not with me. It was he who bribed you to be false to your duty. I had no part in it.»
«Had you not? You lying dog! You're a pretty pair of scoundrels, on my soul! Working in con–conjunction.»
«Now that,» said Blood, «is needlessly and foolishly offensive.»