And then we fell a-talking eagerly, and the other adventurers flocked about us, desiring to know what had befallen me since the day when I went ashore on Hispaniola and returned not. And I was so rapt with joy at the sight of my friends that I laughed, and for sheer gladness greeted them again by name—"Tom Hawke, old friend!" and "Harry Loveday, my bawcock!"—and was so possessed by my ecstasy that I forgot Captain Q until Hilary recalled me to the present with a question— "And who is our blood-red friend, old lad?" I swung myself about. The Frenchman was gone. "’Tis Captain Q," I said, and was about to tell more, when I caught myself up, in doubt of what the Captain would say if his secret were disclosed. Having trusted me, peradventure he would deem himself betrayed if I should make any revelation. ’Twas borne upon me that I must needs consult with him before telling any whit of his story. "Methinks your Captain Kew is of a backward disposition, seeing that he hath departed without our thanks," said Hilary. "We must e’en go after him, my lad. But let us hear all that hath happed to thee since we gave thee up for dead." I told how I was taken prisoner, and of my captivity and servitude under Don Alfonso de Silva de Marabona, and Tom Hawke, in his boyish way, instantly caught at the name, and wished he might live to pluck Old Marrow-bones by the beard. Then I told of my escape and journey to Tortuga, where I had been, as I guessed, a matter of a month. "And your Captain Kew, what of him?" asked Hilary. "Is he of the Kews of Ditchingham, and how came he here?" And I saw that the secret must come out. If I did not myself tell it, my friends would certainly not rest until they had discovered it for themselves, and ’twas not unlike that Captain Q would fare very ill at their hands, and lose all the treasure whereby he set such store. Better that his story should be told by one who had fellow-feeling for him than that all should be left to chance. So I took Hilary Rawdon aside and acquainted him with my discoveries. "Why, ’tis he that is the thief," cried Hilary when he had heard all. "We have as good a right to the treasure as he." "Some of it belongs by right to Antonio de Marabona, whom his uncle has defrauded," I replied. "Tuts, lad, in this part of the world it belongs to them that can take it. Did we not sail hither, I ask you, in quest of treasure? Have we not lost men and suffered shipwreck in this very adventure against the Queen’s enemies? Should we not have captured this very galleon had we come but eleven years ago? Is not your answer ’Yes,’ and ’Yes,’ and ’Yes’?" He looked at me with triumph. Certainly there was no gainsaying his reasoning, though the third of his questions had a smack of inconsequence that bid for laughter. But I made a condition, as seemed to me just.