“You have a lady on board, sir, my affianced bride, who, with her brother, is here under the same circumstances with myself, they will tell you that I am not an impostor.”
“Your affianced bride,” said the count, not heeding what he had last said, “you are then the friend for whom she has been so restless and uneasy?”
“I knew that she would be so,” replied Talbot; “may I ask now to see her, that she may corroborate what I have said?”
“Not so fast,” exclaimed the count, “that you have gained the affections of the young lady is no proof of your being what you profess, indeed, you may have won them under an assumed name and character.”
“It ill becomes you, sir,” cried Talbot, highly incensed, “it ill becomes you to insult a man who for the time being is in your power; but I warn you that if I, or those with me, are unnecessarily detained or harshly treated, you will be held to a severe accountability.”
“And by whom, sir,” exclaimed the count, turning pale with rage, “by a man who has no other vouchers to a most improbable tale, than a horde of pirates, a mere boy, and a love-sick maiden?”
“The proofs are sufficient, sir, for any impartial mind, but I see plainly that you have some purpose in seeming to disbelieve them—what that purpose is your conscience best can tell.”
“What mean you, sir, by this insolence; but I know how to curb and to punish it!”
“Insolence! and punish!” contemptuously answered Talbot, “those are words used by cowards when addressing slaves. I defy alike your malice and your power. You may maltreat me, but a day of reckoning will surely come. I demand to see Miss Gillespie and her brother,” he added, as his ear caught the sound of stifled sobs in the after cabin.
The count pulled a bell-rope by his hand, and at the summons, the sentry who had admitted him, opened the door and looked in, while from another door, the steward entered and stood obsequiously by his master. The latter, pointing to the door, said,
“Mr. Manuel, take out your prisoner and confine him apart from the rest; sentry, let them pass.”
Talbot hesitated a moment, and then said, “I am unarmed and helpless, and it would therefore be madness to resist you—but, in the name of humanity, I ask you, can you listen unmoved to the distress of the unhappy lady within there; as a man, an officer, and a nobleman, I appeal to you in her behalf. She has recently lost her father, as you know, and, save myself, her young brother is now her only protector.”