'You are a Roman Catholic?' said Seurel in surprise.

'I joined the army for the pleasure of killing Protestants.'

'So did I. Each bullet I fired was in the name of the Pope.'

'My family was as devout as any in Rome. It did not make us welcome in England. We were persecuted because of our beliefs. My grandfather died in prison, my father was driven into exile when King William sat on the throne. Who can ever forget what that butcher did to the Catholics in Ireland?' he asked with sudden vehemence. 'Those who talked of toleration showed precious little of it during his reign. We were glad to leave England. We settled in Beauvais and I grew up there. I look upon France as my home.'

'Me, too,' said Seurel. 'I wish I was there now.'

'We're still in French waters.'

'I like to have solid ground beneath my feet.'

'You'll have that soon enough,' Catto assured him. 'As for the benefits I mentioned, just remember how much we'll be paid for this little adventure.'

'Only if we catch up with Daniel Rawson.'

'We will, I promise you.' 'What if he has left England?'

'We follow him wherever he goes, Frederic.' He patted his purse. 'We are well-provided with funds. He can run but he will never escape us. Sooner or later, we'll find him.' 'And then?'

'We obey the general's orders to the letter. We kill Daniel Rawson and take him certain proof of the man's death.' 'To do that, we'd have to carry his dead body back with us.' 'There's a much easier way than that, Frederic.' Seurel looked blank. 'Is there?'

'We simply cut off his head,' said Catto. 'That will suffice.'

CHAPTER THREE