but Pierre Radisson restrained me.

"More to be done sometimes by doing nothing," he whispered.

The young fellows were on their knees draining bumpers; but Colonel
Blood was rambling again.

"He gives 'em that saucy brat, does he? Gad's me, I'd give her to
perdition for twopenny-worth o' rat poison! Look you, Radisson, 'tis
what I did once; but she's come back! Curse me, I could 'a' done it
neater and cheaper myself--twopenny-worth o' poison would do it, Picot
said; but gad's me, I paid him a hundred guineas, and here she's come
back again!"

"Blood . . . Colonel Blood," M. Picot had repeated at his death.

I had sprung up. Again M. Radisson held me back.

"How long ago was that, Colonel Blood?" he asked softly.

"Come twenty year this day s'ennight," mutters the freebooter. "'Twas
before I entered court service. Her father had four o' my fellows
gibbeted at Charing Cross, Gad's me, I swore he'd sweat for it! She
was Osmond's only child--squalling brat coming with nurse over Hounslow
Heath. 'Sdeath--I see it yet! Postillions yelled like stuck pigs,
nurses kicked over in coach dead away. When they waked up, curse me,
but the French poisoner had the brat! Curse me, I'd done better to
finish her myself. Picot ran away and wrote letters--letters--letters,
till I had to threaten to slit his throat, 'pon my soul, I had! And
now she must marry the boy----"