Hambleton stood with legs wide apart to keep his balance, regarding the weapon in his hand, from which his gaze traveled to the man on the bunk.  When it came to dialogue, he was no match for this sarcastic purveyor of words.  He wondered whether Monsieur Chatelard was actually as cool as he appeared.  As he stood there, the Jeanne D’Arc pitched forward until it seemed that she could never right herself, then slowly and laboriously she rode the waves again.

“You are a more picturesque villain than I thought,” remarked James.  “You have all the tricks of the stage hero—­secret passages, fancy weapons, and—­crowning glory—­a fatal gift of gab!”

Monsieur Chatelard arose, making his way toward the hatch.

“Many thanks.  I can not return the compliment in such a happy choice of English,” he scoffed, “but I can truthfully say that I have rarely seen so striking and unique a figure as I now behold; certainly never on the stage, to which you so politely refer.”

But James was too deeply intent on his next move to be embarrassed by his lack of clothes.  Not in vain had his gorge risen almost at first sight of this man.  He stepped quickly in front of Monsieur Chatelard, blocking his exit up the ladder, while the revolver in his hand looked straight between the Frenchman’s eyes.

Whatever Chatelard’s crimes were, he was not a coward.  He did not flinch, but his eyes gleamed like cold steel as Jim cornered him.

“Now,” said Jim, “I have my turn.”  Wrath burned in his heart.

“Captain Paquin!  Antoine, Antoine!” called Chatelard.  No one answered the call of the master of the ship, but even as the two men measured their force one against the other, they were arrested by a commotion above.  Voices were heard shouting, trampling feet were running back and forth over the deck, and a moment later the ship’s cook came tumbling down the hatchway, screaming in terror.  He glared unheeding at the two men, and his teeth chattered.  Fear had possession of him.

Jim lifted his revolver well out of reach, and backed off from Chatelard.  For the first time during the interview between the American and the Frenchman, the two now faced each other as man to man, with the mask of their suspicions, their vanities and their hate cast aside.

“What is the matter?  What is this fool saying?” Jim asked in loathing.

At last Monsieur Chatelard looked at Jim with eyes of fear.  His face became so pale and drawn that it resembled a sponge from which the last drop of water had been pressed.

“He says the yacht is half full of water—­that she is sinking,” the Frenchman said.

“Sinking!” echoed Jim, bearing down again, with lowered revolver, on his enemy.  “Well and good!  You’re going to be drowned, not shot, after all!  And now you shall speak, you scamp!  Your game’s up, whatever happens.  Get up and lead the way, quick, and show me in what part of this infernal boat you are hiding Agatha Redmond.”