“All this was done,” said Death-wing, “while this gentleman here was betting at cards. Instead of paying the sum he spoke of, he lost every note in betting against me. In proof of it, I had every bank note marked, and here they are,” said he, presenting before Captain Jack’s own eyes the very notes he had lost in bets. “He is a rogue!” said one. “An infamous liar!” growled several. “He is not worthy of life!” “What shall we do with him?” “Kill him! kill him!” Captain Jack now felt cold perspiration oozing from every part of his body, and he trembled in every limb. “You have boasted in your time of having done great things against the Skeleton Crew,” said Death-wing, with a grim smile, “but your tales are all lies, for a greater coward than you are never carried a sword, Captain Jack.” “He is not fit to live!” “I know he is not,” said Death-wing, “and he shall die, unless he promises to fulfil all we ask of him.” “Name it—name anything you like, and I will do it,” said Captain Jack, trembling. “In the first place, you received several thousand pounds from Phillip Redgill?” “Yes, I did, worse luck.” “Will you return it?” “How can I do so?” “That remains with yourself to think of. If you do not in less than a week, your life is not worth a farthing!” “But I have no money.” “Are you not captain of the Baker’s Dozen, as your men are called?” “I am.” “Well, then, get it how you can, but if you fail in doing so in less than a week, you die! Do you hear?” “I do.” “You will be watched and dogged both night and day, remember. There is not the least chance of your escaping me or my band.” “Well, and what next?” “You told Colonel Blood that Phillip Redgill did the murder?” “I did.” “And what proof have you?” “The clothes which Redgill exchanged with Bob Bertram were given up to me by young Ned Warbeck. The proof is clear against Phillip Redgill.” “You think so?” “I know so.” “But you must not ‘know so,’ if you value your life, Captain Jack!” said Death-wing, with an oath. “Don’t be so fast with your tongue, but listen to me.” “I will.” “You know Ned Warbeck?—Wildfire Ned, as he is called.” “I do, well. He is one of the bravest—” “Stop!” said Death-wing, with a fierce oath; “would you thus speak of my deadliest enemy?” “Your enemy?” “Yes, and that of all the band. I believe the young brat was born to bring disgrace and ruin on the Skeleton Crew, for ever since he was born misfortune has followed us.” Captain Jack listened, but said not a word. In his heart he loved Ned Warbeck, and hated both Redgill and his grim friends with his bitterest hate. “Now, I tell you, Captain Jack, that this youth must die, by any means in your power or mine. Could you not, in some manner, fasten Farmer Bertram’s murder upon Ned Warbeck?” “It is possible, but— “No ‘buts’ with us—you must do one thing or the other. You must die here, where you now stand, or take a most solemn oath to arrest Ned Warbeck, and charge him with murder.”