"If thou believest not the word of a gentleman, ask some of these men," I said. "Even they, besotted as they are, have left in them some sparks of justice; they will tell thee that I was held a prisoner here against my will and had naught to do with their adventures," and I seated myself in one of the carved chairs. "A likely story indeed for one to believe!" the gallant behind Drake cried out shrilly. "Peace, Sir James Mortimer!" said Sir Francis. "Prick one of yonder snoring rogues with thy sword, and see what he will say about the man. In truth I am loath to believe ill of one, who, when I knew him, ever bore himself gallantly and nobly. But we will see," and he seated himself, with a sigh. His men were moving about the room, picking up the weapons from the floor and binding the prostrate pirates hand and foot. Suddenly I remembered I had not seen DeNortier nor Oliver. Where were they; had harm befallen the lad? "Sir Francis," I said, "there is a lad here, who has been a fellow captive with me. I should grieve if aught had befallen him, and I do not see him here. Hast thou seen a tall, fair, smooth-faced lad, with golden hair?" "Aye," he answered, "we caught him outside with drawn sword, after the fat priest who guided us here. Faith! It is well that we came when we did. A moment--and then the bulky rogue had been in paradise, for the lad had caught and was about to slay him." So it was Francis who had betrayed the pirates; this would account for his long absence. He was probably dickering then with Drake to deliver his comrades into the Englishmen's hands, and what better time could he choose than when they drank and caroused? 'Twas an idea worthy of such a rogue, and even as I thought of it the door opened and Father Francis glided in. He leered at me in the old way. "How is the noble sir this fine morning?" he cried. "Ah, he will sail no more the blue seas to scuttle the rich galleons! 'Tis a pity, but all good things must cease," and he heaved a mock sigh, with a rueful countenance. "Priest," said Drake, "listen, and answer me truly. What part did Sir Thomas Winchester take in these enterprises of which thou dost speak?" I interrupted him. "It is useless to question this rogue, for I have no more bitter enemy than he is. Why, he even tried to murder me as I slept." The priest still looked at me, a smile upon his face, the look of a cat as he plays with a mouse in his paws. Here was a triumph, golden and pleasant, surpassing all his dreams--and revenge was sweet. He had long waited for such a moment as this; had lain awake at night to plot how he would achieve it, and now the time had come. He spoke deliberately, the words coming slowly from his lips: