His tone was decidedly nettled, and the young lieutenant looked uncomfortable, and seemed about to hazard a remark. The captain was solemnly drinking. "Eh bien!" said the commissary, changing his tone. "There’s no need for us to quarrel. The lovely Juanita is to be your bride; that is settled. We’ll see what we can do with King Joseph to hasten matters. And so, without more words, let us drink a health to her!" "Perez, another bottle," said Miguel. The one-eyed servant came across the room, and Jack slipped out of sight between two leaves of the screen. The commissary sang on:— "J’ai mis mon coeur dedans, Dedans mon bouquet blanc. Comm’ nous pardons, v’là qu’elle crie: ’Oh! reviens t’en.’ Voila qu’il en revient!" (as Perez re-entered). "You can go and get your own supper," said Miguel when the cork was drawn. Perez left the room. As soon as he had gone, Jack, relying on the commissary being engrossed with the bottle, opened the door an inch, and beckoned the old Spaniard in. "Now, Señor Don What’s-your-name," said the commissary, "we Frenchmen will drink a bumper to the fair Spaniard, the black-eyed beauty. Messieurs, aux beaux yeux de la belle Ju—an—i—" He had lifted his brimming glass half-way to his lips, and turned with a fat smile towards Miguel, when he paused, his hand stayed in mid-air, and he broke off in the middle of Juanita’s name. Advancing towards him from behind the screen he saw a young Spaniard, with a drawn sword in his right hand, and in his left a pistol, cocked and pointed. "You will excuse me, messieurs," said Jack quietly, "intruding upon you thus unceremoniously—pray keep your seats," he added, as the lieutenant pushed back his chair, and the fuddled captain half rose. "In fact, I shall take it so ill if you move but a hair’s breadth that I cannot answer for my nerves!" For all its banter, Jack’s tone had in it so much of deadly earnestness that the officers sank limply back into their seats, the instinctive movement towards sword and pistol arrested as if by a sudden palsy. Miguel had remained on his chair without moving a muscle. With him the French were four to one, for as a combatant the old man did not count; but each of the four knew that the first among them to take up the gage would fall instantly to Jack’s pistol, and the knowledge dulled the edge of their courage. "Hombre," continued Jack, addressing the old gardener, "bolt the door." The man was trembling in every limb, but hastened to obey the order. "That is right. Now, feel in my left-hand pocket. You will find a whistle. You have it? Then open yonder window and blow three times."