A marine, with cutlass and revolver, stood at the door of Pillgrim's state-room. When Somers had finished his supper, and was about to go on deck, the sentinel informed him that the prisoner had knocked several times on his door. "See what he wants." The marine opened the door. "Who is the prize master?" asked Pillgrim. The sentinel looked at Somers for permission before he replied. "Answer him." "Mr. Somers," answered the marine. "Will you present my compliments to Mr. Somers, and say that I beg the favor of an interview with him?" Again the sentinel glanced at Somers. "With pleasure," replied the prize master, as politely as the request was made. "Ah, Mr. Somers," said the traitor, as the new commander of the Ben Nevis stepped forward and showed himself to the prisoner, "I am happy to see you." "Are you, indeed?" added Somers, rather amused at the smooth tones of the traitor. "I am, I assure you. Might I beg the favor of a few moments' private conversation with you?" "Certainly; have you any weapons about you?" "None, whatever." Somers directed the marine to seat himself at the farther end of the cabin. "Thank you, Mr. Somers; you are as kind and generous as ever." "Let me say, Mr. Pillgrim, that flattery and threats are all the same to me." "Somers, you have me on the hip." "I know it." "You have won the game." "I know it." "I am in your power." "I know it." Pillgrim appeared to be hopeless and disconcerted. "Somers, I have, in a bank in Philadelphia, fifty thousand dollars." "What bank?" "Excuse me; the confiscation laws are dangerous to men in my situation." "No matter; I will inform the proper officers of the fact, and they can find out what bank." Pillgrim bit his lip. "I will give you this money if you will--" "Silence, sir! There is not money enough in the whole world to bribe me." "I still have the oath of allegiance--signed by you, and--" "No, you haven't. Mr. Hackleford has it. You left it in your state-room." "Now listen to reason, Somers." "I shall. Reason counsels me to do my duty." "Somers, I will be revenged." "Good night, Mr. Pillgrim. I see you have nothing of importance to say to me;" and Somers went on deck after calling the marine back to his post. CHAPTER XV. THE PRISONER IN THE CABIN. Mr. Pillgrim's wound, as such injuries are regarded in the army and navy, was a mere scratch; but it might have been very sore, and might have ached severely. The traitor did not even mention it in his interview with Somers, for the sore in his mind was much more serious. His victim had now become his tyrant; not implacable or vindictive, but firm and unyielding in the discharge of his duty.