"Last time we met I relieved you of your wig.
That also was the fault of a wager.
This time, perhaps, I might take something a little more substantial."
He reached for the decoration on Godolphin's breast, a ribbon and a star, and cut it away with his sword.
"Your weapon also, I regret to say, is something I cannot leave upon your person," and Godolphin's sheath clattered upon the ground.
The Frenchman bowed again, and passed on to Philip Rashleigh. "Good evening, sir," he said, "you are looking a trifle less warm than when I saw you last.
I must thank you for the gift of the Merry Fortune.
She is a splendid vessel.
You would not recognise her now, I swear. They have given her a new rig on my side of the channel, and a coat of paint into the bargain.
Your sword, sir, if you please.
And what have you in your pockets?"
The veins stood out in Rashleigh's forehead, and his breath came quick and fast.
"You'll pay for this, God damn you," he said.
"Possibly," said the Frenchman, "but in the meanwhile, it is you who are paying," and he emptied Rashleigh's sovereigns into a bag tied at his waist.
Slowly he made the circuit of the table, and each guest in turn lost the weapon at his side, and the money from his pockets, with the rings from his fingers, and the pin from his cravat.
And as the Frenchman strolled round the table, whistling a tune under his breath, he would lean, now and again, to the bowl of fruit, and pluck a grape, and once, while waiting for the stout guest from Bodmin to divest himself of the many rings on his fingers, swollen with gout, he sat on the edge of the table, amongst the silver and the dishes, and poured himself a glass of wine from a carafe.
"You have a good cellar, Sir Harry," he said. "I should advise you to keep this a year or so longer; it is a wine that will improve.
I had some half-dozen bottles of the same vintage in my own house in Brittany, and like a fool I drank it all too soon."
"Death and damnation," spluttered Harry, "of all the confounded…"
"Don't worry," smiled the Frenchman, "I could have the key of the cellar from William if I wanted it, but I would not deprive you of the fun of drinking this in four or five years' time."
He scratched his ear, and glanced down at the ring on Harry's finger.
"That is a very fine emerald," he said.
For answer Harry tore it from his finger and threw it at the Frenchman's face, but he caught it in his hands, and held it to the light.
"Not a single flaw," he said, "which is rare in an emerald.
However, I will not take it.
On second thoughts, Sir Harry, I have robbed you enough."
And bowing, he handed the ring back to Dona's husband.
"And now, gentlemen," he said, "I have a last request to make.
It is, perhaps, a little crude, but under the circumstances, very necessary.
You see, I wish to return to my ship, and to have you join your fellows in the woods and give chase to me would, I fear, somewhat prejudice my plans.
In short, I must ask you to take off your breeches and hand them over to my men here.
Likewise your stockings, and your shoes."
One and all they stared at him in rage, and "By heaven, no," shouted Eustick, "have you not made game of us enough?"
"I am sorry," smiled the Frenchman, "but really I must insist.
The night is warm, you know, and yesterday was midsummer.
Lady St. Columb, perhaps you would be good enough to go into the salon?
These gentlemen will not care to undress themselves before you in public, however much they may desire to do so in private."
And he held open the door for her to pass, and looking over his shoulder to the guests he called,
"I will give you five minutes, but no more.
Pierre Blanc, Jules, Luc, William - keep a close watch upon the gentlemen, and while they are disrobing, her ladyship and I will discuss the affairs of the day."
He followed her into the salon and shut the door.
"And you," he said, "with your proud smile, standing at the head of the table, shall I make you do the same, my cabin-boy?" and he threw his sword on the chair, and laughed, and held out his arms.
She went to him, and put her hands on his shoulders.
"Why are you so reckless?" she asked, "so shameless, and so wicked?
Do you know that the woods and the hills are black with men?"
"Yes," he said.
"Why did you come here then?"
"Because, as in all my undertakings, the most hazardous performance is usually the most successful.
Besides, I had not kissed you for nearly twenty-four hours."
And he bent his head, and took her face in his hands.