The Baron stared hard and haughtily at Captain Blood, then very distantly and barely perceptibly inclined his head to each of the other three.  His manner implied plainly that he despised them and that he desired them at once to understand it.  It had a curious effect upon Captain Blood.  It awoke the devil in him, and it awoke at the same time his self-respect which of late had been slumbering.  A sudden shame of his disordered, ill-kempt appearance made him perhaps the more defiant.  There was almost a significance in the way he hitched his sword-belt round, so that the wrought hilt of his very serviceable rapier was brought into fuller view.  He waved his captains to the chairs that stood about.

“Draw up to the table, lads.  We are keeping the Baron waiting.”

They obeyed him, Wolverstone with a grin that was full of understanding.  Haughtier grew the stare of M. de Rivarol.  To sit at table with these bandits placed him upon what he accounted a dishonouring equality.  It had been his notion that — with the possible exception of Captain Blood — they should take his instructions standing, as became men of their quality in the presence of a man of his.  He did the only thing remaining to mark a distinction between himself and them.  He put on his hat.

“Ye’re very wise now,” said Blood amiably.  “I feel the draught myself.”  And he covered himself with his plumed castor.

M. de Rivarol changed colour.  He quivered visibly with anger, and was a moment controlling himself before venturing to speak.  M. de Cussy was obviously very ill at ease.

“Sir,” said the Baron frostily, “you compel me to remind you that the rank you hold is that of Capitaine de Vaisseau, and that you are in the presence of the General of the Armies of France by Sea and Land in America.  You compel me to remind you further that there is a deference due from your rank to mine.”

“I am happy to assure you,” said Captain Blood, “that the reminder is unnecessary.  I am by way of accounting myself a gentleman, little though I may look like one at present; and I should not account myself that were I capable of anything but deference to those whom nature or fortune may have placed above me, or to those who being placed beneath me in rank may labour under a disability to resent my lack of it.”  It was a neatly intangible rebuke.  M. de Rivarol bit his lip.  Captain Blood swept on without giving him time to reply:  “Thus much being clear, shall we come to business?”

M. de Rivarol’s hard eyes considered him a moment.  “Perhaps it will be best,” said he.  He took up a paper.  “I have here a copy of the articles into which you entered with M. de Cussy.  Before going further, I have to observe that M. de Cussy has exceeded his instructions in admitting you to one fifth of the prizes taken.  His authority did not warrant his going beyond one tenth.”

“That is a matter between yourself and M. de Cussy, my General.”