where is it?"

Rupert shook his head. "I don't know. But it's listed in the catalogue
as 'Portrait of Roderick Ralestone, Aged Eighteen.'"

"Just Val's age, then." Ricky spooned some watermelon pickles onto her
plate. "But he was older than that when he left here."

"Let's see. He was born in February, 1788, which would make him fourteen
when his parents died in 1802. Then he disappeared in 1814, twelve years
later. Just twenty-six when he went," computed Rupert.

"A year younger than you are now," observed Ricky.

"And nine years older than yourself at this present date," Val added
pleasantly. "Why this sudden interest in mathematics?"

"Oh, I don't know. Only somehow I always thought Rick was younger when
he went away. I've always felt sorry for him. Wonder what happened to
him afterwards?"

"According to our rival," Rupert pulled his coffee-cup before him as
Letty-Lou took away their plates, "he just went quietly away, married,
lived soberly, and brought up a son, who in turn fathered a son, and so
on to the present day. A tame enough ending for our wild privateersman."

"I'll bet it isn't true. Rick wouldn't end like that. He probably went
off down south and got mixed up in some of the revolutions they were
having at the time," suggested Ricky. "He couldn't just settle down and
die in bed. I could imagine him scuttling a ship but not being a quiet
business man."

"He was one of Lafitte's men, wasn't he?" asked Charity. At their
answering nods, she went on: "Lafitte was a business man, you know. Oh,
I don't mean that forge he ran in town, but his establishment at Grande
Terre. He was more smuggler than pirate, that's why he lasted so long.
Even the most respected tradesmen had dealings with him. Why, he used to
post notices right in town when he held auctions at Barataria, listing
what he had to sell, mostly smuggled Negroes and a few cargoes of
luxuries from Europe. He was a privateer under the rules of war, but he
was never a real pirate. At least, that's the belief held nowadays."

"We can't turn up our noses at pirates," laughed Ricky. "This house was
built by pirate gold. We only wish--"

From the hall came a dull thump. Ricky's napkin dropped from her hand
into her coffee-cup. Rupert laid down his spoon deliberately enough, but
there was a certain tension in his movements. Val felt a sudden chill.
For Letty-Lou was in the kitchen, the family were in the dining-room.
There should be no one in the ha