“Tell me what you require to be done, and I will then give you a direct answer,” said the pirate.
The marquis thought for some time before he replied. “I must swear you to secrecy in the first place, and in the next, that you will decide, when I have put before you the outline of the work required, without obliging me to descend to particulars.”
“Depend on me, marquis,” exclaimed the pirate. “As I see a crucifix at the other end of the room, I will take the oath; and now hasten on with your sketch; I am a man of action, and will speedily decide.”
“Listen, then,” said Don Anibal. “You can, I doubt not, obtain command of one of the numerous vessels fitting out as privateers; I will use my influence. I can speak to your character for bravery, enterprise, sagacity—you understand me: you must use every exertion to find a craft. I know your talents—you will not fail.”
Captain Tacon smiled grimly at the compliments the marquis paid him. “But the enterprise, the work you require of me, most noble marquis?” he said, with a slight gesture of impatience.
“I am coming to that, my friend,” was the answer. “It lies in a nutshell: in a northern region there exists a child, of whose person, for certain reasons, unnecessary now to state, I wish to obtain possession. He lives in a mansion capable of defence; you may possibly, therefore, have to use force, but that of course will only make the work more agreeable to you. On your bringing me satisfactory assurance that you have disposed of the child as I may direct, the reward shall be yours. In the meantime, this purse, as soon as you decide, I will present to you. It is but an earnest of my liberal intentions.”
The exhibition of the gold was a bright thought of Don Anibal’s. As the taste of blood whets the appetite of the wild beast, so did the glittering bait the avarice of the pirate.
“Give me the purse,” he exclaimed, eagerly stretching out his hands; “I will take the oath.”
“Take the oath, and you shall have the purse,” answered the marquis, smiling blandly. “No mental reservations, though; I do not forget your antecedents, my old comrade.”
Captain Tacon gave a hoarse laugh, and twirling his moustachios, while his countenance wore the expression of a person about to swallow a nauseous draught, he walked across the room towards the crucifix. The marquis followed, with a self-satisfied look, as if he had achieved a victory. It is not necessary to repeat the oath taken by the pirate, or to describe the final arrangements entered into between the two worthies.