He looked him over from the soles of his riding-boots to the crown of his periwig.

He noted the spare, active frame, the arrogant poise of the head, the air of authority that invested Mr.Blood, and soldier recognized soldier.

The Captain's eyes narrowed.

Recognition went further.
"Who the hell may you be ?" he exploded.
"My name is Blood, sir--Peter Blood, at your service." "Aye--aye! Codso! That's the name.

You were in French service once, were you not ?" If Mr.Blood was surprised, he did not betray it.
"I was." "Then I remember you--five years ago, or more, you were in Tangiers." "That is so.