"Very right, señor. Alas! They say the man uses witchcraft." Don Juan crossed himself, and was swiftly imitated. Sir Nicholas' black lashes hid the laughter in his down-cast eyes. When he raised them again they were grave, if you could discount the merriness that must always lurk at the back of them. Don Juan, absorbed in his tale, did not notice it. "He sacked and sank the ship that bore Don Manuel home, and--you will scarce credit it--took Don Manuel and his daughter aboard his own vessel." "So!" Beauvallet raised politely surprised eyebrows. "But wherefor?" "Who shall say, señor? A mad whim one would suppose, for one can hardly credit such a man with chivalrous intent. They say he is mad, who have had traffic with him. But he had the effrontery, señor, to put into a port of Spain, and there to set Don Manuel ashore!" "You astonish me, señor," said Sir Nicholas. "I suppose he bore off the daughter to England, this famous freebooter?" "One might have expected it, but no. Doña Dominica took no hurt, though her father died soon after his landing. She is under the guardianship of her good aunt, Doña Beatrice de Carvalho." "Thank you for that information," thought Sir Nicholas, and made a mental note of the name. Aloud he said: "But this is a wonder that you recount, señor! To escape unhurt from the clutches of so desperate a villain as this Beauvallet!" His shoulders shook ever so slightly. A gentleman standing close to them turned his head and looked keenly. He bowed to Don Juan, and again to the Chevalier. "Your pardon, señor, but you spoke a certain name. Has that freebooter been taken at last?" Don Juan made the introduction, but it was Beauvallet who answered. "Nay, nay, señor! Surely he bears a charmed life? I have heard men say so." "As to that, we shall see, señor," said the newcomer. "You have set eyes on him, maybe?" "I have seen him, yes," Sir Nicholas answered. The long fingers that swung his pomander gently to and fro never quivered. "In Paris, where he sometimes visits." Don Juan displayed a lively curiosity. "Is it so indeed? And is he as mad as they say? They tell us, who have had dealings with him, that he is a man with black hair who laughs." White teeth gleamed for a moment. "Yes, he laughs, señor," said Sir Nicholas. A chuckle came, they little knew how audacious. "I dare swear if he stood in this room surrounded by his enemies at this moment, he would still laugh. It is a habit with him." "One hardly credits it, señor," the stately gentleman replied. "There would very soon be an end to his laughter." He bowed slightly, and passed on. Don Diaz came up at that moment, and laid his hand on Beauvallet's arm. "I have been searching for you, Chevalier. I would present you to a countryman of yours: your ambassador, M. de Lauvinière." Not by the flicker of an eyelash did Beauvallet betray how unwelcome this courtesy was to him. Danger crouched before him; he went smiling towards it: Beauvallet's way!