. Cahusac was Levasseur's lieutenant, until he died."

"Until who died?"

"Levasseur. He was killed on one of the Virgin Islands two years ago."

There was a pause. Then, in an even quieter voice than before, Miss
Bishop asked:

"Who killed him?"

Pitt answered readily. There was no reason why he should not, though he
began to find the catechism intriguing.

"Captain Blood killed him."

"Why?"

Pitt hesitated. It was not a tale for a maid's ears.

"They quarrelled," he said shortly.

"Was it about a... a lady?" Miss Bishop relentlessly pursued him.

"You might put it that way."

"What was the lady's name?"

Pitt's eyebrows went up; still he answered.

"Miss d'Ogeron. She was the daughter of the Governor of Tortuga. She had
gone off with this fellow Levasseur, and... and Peter delivered her out
of his dirty clutches. He was a black-hearted scoundrel, and deserved
what Peter gave him."

"I see. And... and yet Captain Blood has not married her?"

"Not yet," laughed Pitt, who knew the utter groundlessness of the common
gossip in Tortuga which pronounced Mdlle. d'Ogeron the Captain's future
wife.

Miss Bishop nodded in silence, and Jeremy Pitt turned to depart,
relieved that the catechism was ended. He paused in the doorway to
impart a piece of information.

"Maybe it'll comfort you to know that the Captain has altered our course
for your benefit. It's his intention to put you both ashore on the coast
of Jamaica, as near Port Royal as we dare venture. We've gone about, and
if this wind holds ye'll soon be home again, mistress."

"Vastly obliging of him," drawled his lordship, seeing that Miss Bishop
made no shift to answer. Sombre-eyed she sat, staring into vacancy.

"Indeed, ye may say so," Pitt agreed. "He's taking risks that few would
take in his place. But that's always been his way."

He went out, leaving his lordship pensive, those dreamy blue eyes of his
intently studying Miss Bishop's face for all their dreaminess; his mind
increasingly uneasy. At length Miss Bishop looked at him, and spoke.

"Your Cahusac told you no more than the truth, it seems."

"I perceived that you were testing it," said his lordship. "I am
wondering precisely why."

Receiving no answer, he continued to observe her silently, his long,
tapering fingers toying with a ringlet of the golden periwig in which
his long face was set.

Miss Bishop sat bemused, her brows knit, her brooding glance seeming
to study the fin