The heavy bar creaked; the door swung open; and I was gazing into the face of the tall stranger, with whom I had fought upon the streets of London. The same high forehead, aquiline nose, thin, cruel lips, and jet-black eyes and hair. He wore a plum-colored doublet, with dark fawn trunks and hose, and had about him that ease and grace which mark the gentleman. In truth, he would have passed as a handsome gallant, had it not been for the cruelty and sensuality of his face. I have never been able to determine what feature it was that gave him that air of sinister, reckless cruelty. Analyzing his face, no one single member gave it that expression, but the combined effect was that of a man who had never let any fear or scruple come between himself and his desire. He stood in the doorway a moment in silence, a candle in his hand, looking upward; then closing the door, he advanced into the room, and with a bow and smile, addressed me as I sat upon the floor, speaking in English, but with a pronounced accent: "I trust that Sir Thomas Winchester will pardon this rude abode, and this somewhat unceremonious treatment. I assure him that nothing but the most urgent necessity is to blame for it." "If thou wilt have the goodness to tell me where I am, how I came here, and by whom and what authority I am detained in this place?" I said angrily, for the Richmond blood, which had never brooked opposition, and which had been the pride and curse of my race, was up now, and was boiling in my veins. "One thing at a time, my dear sir," he replied, and seating himself on a stool near the rude table on which he had placed the candle, he motioned me to a seat upon the other side of the room. But my temper was aroused, and by a shake of the head I declined the proffered seat, at the same time indicating my desire that he should answer my questions. "In the first place," he replied, "thou art on the brig, 'Betsy,' two days out from London. In the second place, as doubtless thou rememberest, thou didst attack me on the street of London, without any just cause, and wouldst have slain me, hadst thou had thy way. On my men coming up, thou wert unfortunately struck on the head, and being senseless, wert brought on board this ship. In the third place, thou art detained on board this vessel by me, and by my authority," and he looked down coolly upon me, as I sat upon the floor. "Who art thou," I exclaimed, rising to my feet, "that thou shouldst detain me?" My heat produced no noticeable effect upon him; with an evil smile he calmly replied, "The Count DeNortier." In a flash I knew into whose hands I had fallen--DeNortier, the Spanish adventurer and pirate, whose boldness and cruelty had been the talk of London two years ago.