A man strode out from the hangings that masked a chamber door, and advanced toward the table without haste or hesitation. Instantly he dominated the group, and all felt the situation subtly charged with a new, dynamic atmosphere.
The stranger was as tall as either of the freebooters, and more powerfully built than either, yet for all his size he moved with a pantherish suppleness in his flaring-topped boots. His thighs were cased in close-fitting breeches of white silk, his wide-skirted sky-blue coat open to reveal a white silken shirt beneath, and the scarlet sash that girdled his waist. There were silver acorn- shaped buttons on the coat, and it was adorned with gilt-worked cuffs and pocketflaps, and a satin collar. A broad brimmed, plumed hat was on the stranger's head, and a heavy cutlass hung at his hip.
"Vulmea!" ejaculated Harston, and the others caught their breath.
"Who else?" The giant strode up to the table, laughing sardonically at their amazement.
"What—what do you here?" stuttered Gallot.
"I climbed the palisade on the east side while you fools were arguing at the gate," Vulmea answered. His Irish accent was faint, but not to be mistaken. "Every man in the fort was craning his neck westward. I entered the house while Harston was being let in at the gate. I've been in that chamber there ever since, eavesdropping."
"I thought you were drowned," said Villiers slowly. "Three years ago the shattered hull of your ship was sighted off the coast of Amichel, and you were seen no more on the Main."
"But I live, as you see," retorted Vulmea.
Up on the stair Tina was staring through the balustrades with all her eyes, clutching Françoise in her excitement.
"Vulmea! It is Black Vulmea, my Lady! Look! Look!"
Françoise was looking. It was like encountering a legendary character in the flesh. Who of all the sea-folk had not heard the tales and ballads celebrating the wild deeds of Black Vulmea, once a scourge of the Spanish Main'? The man could not be ignored. Irresistibly he had stalked into the scene, to form another, dominant element in the tangled plot.
Henri was recovering from the shock of finding a stranger in his hall. "What do you want?" he demanded. "Did you come from the sea?"
"I came from the woods," answered the Irishman. "And I gather there is some dissension over a map!"
"That's none of your affair," growled Harston.
"Is this it?" Grinning wickedly, Vulmea drew from his pocket a crumpled object—a square of parchment, marked with crimson lines.
Harston started violently, paling.
"My map!" he ejaculated. "Where did you get it?"
"From Richardson, after I killed him!" was the grim answer.
"You dog!" raved Harston, turning on Villiers. "You never had the map! You lied—"
"I never said I had it," snarled the Frenchman. "You deceived yourself. Don't be a tool. Vulmea is alone. If he had a crew he'd have cut our throats already. We'll take the map from him—"
"You'll never touch it!" Vulmea laughed fiercely.
Both men sprang at him, cursing. Stepping back he crumpled the parchment and cast it into the glowing coals of the fireplace. With a bellow Harston lunged past him, to be met with a buffet under the ear that stretched him half- senseless on the floor. Villiers whipped out his sword, but before he could thrust Vulmea's cutlass beat it out of his hand.
Villiers staggered against the table, with hell in his eyes. Harston lurched to his feet, blood dripping from his ear.
Vulmea leaned over the table, his outstretched blade just touching Count Henri's breast.
"Don't call for your soldiers, Count," said the Irishman softly. "Not a sound out of you, either, dog-face!" His name for Gallot, who showed no intention of disobeying. "The map's burned to ashes, and it'll do no good to spill blood. Sit down, all of you."
Harston hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders and sank sullenly into a chair. The others followed suit. Vulmea stood, towering over the table, while his enemies watched him with bitter eyes of hate.
"You were bargaining," he said. "That's all I've come to do."
"And what have you to trade?" sneered Villiers.
"The jewels of Montezuma!"
"What?" All four men were on their feet, leaning toward him.
"Sit down!" he roared, banging his broad blade on the table. They sank back, tense and white with excitement. He grinned hardly.
"Yes! I found it before I got the map. That's why I burned the map. I don't need it. And now nobody will ever find it, unless I show him where it is."
They stared at him with murder in their eyes, and Villiers said: "You're lying. You've told us one lie already. You say you came from the woods, yet all men know this country is a wilderness, inhabited only by savages."
