THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE
of England have so honest a notion of warfare in these waters. What proof have we of your integrity?”
Bras-de-Fer tossed his head with a touch of the old hauteur. He looked past the gray-beard to the casement window, where the last glimmer of the western light was burnishing her hair to gold. He saw only the fair head of the woman who had discredited him, scorned and spurned him as though he had been as low as the very thing he now appeared. The lips grew together in a hard line that had in it a touch of cruelty.
“It is not the custom of officers of the King,” he said, “to give proofs of integrity to prisoners of war. I offer no proof but my word. I shall do with you as I see fit to do.” And stationing two pikemen at the door of the cabin, he went upon the deck, filled with the thought which almost drove from his mind the serious business of bringing the wreck to rights and mending his own affairs.
There was much to be done before the Sally and her huge captive could be brought out into
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