I think that till this moment the bully had no idea his assailants were more than a chance couple of Cornish troopers. But now seeing the glow of the burning charcoal on my face, he ripped out a horrid blasphemous curse, and straightway fell to speaking calmly. “Good sirs, the game is yours, with care. S’lid! but you hold a pretty hand—if only you know how to play it.” “’Tis you shall help me, Captain: but let us be clear about the stakes. For you, ’tis life or death: for me, ’tis to regain Mistress Delia, failing which I shoot you here through the head, and topple you into the sea. You are the Knave of trumps, sir, and I play that card: as matters now stand, only the Queen can save you.” “Right: but where be King and Ace?” “The King is the Cornish army, yonder: the Ace is my pistol here, which I hold.” “And that’s a very pretty comprehension of the game, sir: I play the Queen.” “Where is she?” For answer, he pointed seaward, where the sloop’s lantern lay like a floating star on the black waters. “What!” cried I. “Mistress Delia in that sloop! And who is with her, pray?” “Why, Black Dick, to begin with—and Reuben Gedges—and Jeremy Toy.” “All the Knaves left in the pack—God help her!” I muttered, as I look’d out toward the light, and my heart beat heavily. “God help her!” I said again, and turning, spied a grin on the Captain’s face. “Under Providence,” answered he, “your unworthy servant may suffice. But what is my reward to be?” “Your neck,” said I, “if I can save it when you are led before the Cornish captains.” “That’s fair enough: so listen. These few months the lady has been shut in Bristol keep, whither, by the advice of our employer, we conveyed her back safe and sound. This same employer—” “A dirty rogue, whom you may as well call by his name—Hannibal Tingcomb.” “Right, young sir: a very dirty rogue, and a niggardly:—I hate a mean rascal. Well, fearing her second escape from that prison, and being hand in glove with the Parliament men, he gets her on board a sloop bound for the Virginias, just at the time when he knows the Earl of Stamford is to march and crush the Cornishmen. For escort she has the three comrades of mine that I named: and the captain of the sloop (a fellow that asks no questions) has orders to cruise along the coast hereabouts till he gets news of the battle.” “Which you were just now about to give him,” cried I, suddenly enlighten’d. “Right again. ’Twas a pretty scheme: for—d’ye see?—if all went well with the Earl of Stamford, the King’s law would be wiped out in Cornwall, and Master Tingcomb (with his claims and meritorious services) might snap his thumb thereat. So, in that case, Mistress Delia was to be brought ashore here and taken to him, to serve as he fancied. But if the day should go against us—as it has—she was to sail to the Virginias with the sloop, and there be sold as a slave. Or worse might happen; but I swear that is the worst was ever told me.”