Bellamont started perceptibly and his face clouded when I mentioned the name of the buccaneer. I stopped short in my talk. More than once during the account of my adventures my voice had faltered when I came to speak of my sister; hence it was that the governor misunderstood my hesitation. “Do not haste, my friend. You have my kindliest sympathy in your distress. Take your time and recover yourself.” “It was not for that I stopped, your Excellency.” His eyebrows lifted. “No? What then?” “I am a plain spoken man, Earl Bellamont; shall I have free leave to speak what I feel? Your face showed disfavor when I mentioned the name of Captain Tew. I am ignorant of what he may be to you, but I do not wish to compromise one who has played the part of a good friend to me.” I stopped. There was a look of amusement in the Earl’s eyes as he put out his hand and touched a bell. A servant appeared who, at the governor’s bidding, fetched a tray with wine and glasses for three upon it, and a dish of salt. I could hardly contain my surprise at this unusual proceeding, nor did I understand its import till the Earl, after moistening his finger in the wine, placed it on the salt and then touched his tongue. “It is an old custom we have in Yorke,” he said, smiling. “You honor me more than I deserve,” I cried in admiration at the way he had put it out of his power to use these communications to his own advantage. For the observation of this custom meant that we were friends and guests, and that our talk would be held in the strictest confidence. “I think you will trust me now,” he continued gravely. “If I read your face aright, Monsieur Le Bourse, you are the kind of man we need in these troublesome times. Now—if you will be kind enough to continue your narrative.” I told him all I knew, holding back nothing, for I had full faith in the man whom I already looked upon as a sort of patron. He listened with grave attention, now and then expressing his hearty sympathy in a way that was at once delicate and reassuring. “Here is to the safety of Mistress Ruth,” he said lifting a glass. “Safety!” I cried. “You do not doubt?” “Not in the least. Drink. To a quick search and a happy.” He rang the bell again and bade the servant call Bromm, the aged bell-ringer who lived by the church in a corner of the fort. In a few minutes a slow deliberate tap, tap resounded upon the paved courtyard without; next the old man entered, leaning upon his staff, which he grasped high up at the level of his head. The Earl advanced to meet him and took the faithful old man by the hand. “How is it with you to-day, my Bromm; and how is the Juvrouw Betchen?” “Please your Excellency, she is well, considering her age. But she was a fair wench in her day.” Then he caught sight of me. It took a moment of deliberation for him to adjust himself to the unexpected surprise of a stranger in the room. He made me a low bow, slipping his hand down the body of his staff as he did so.