A darkling shade settled on the face of the devoted secretary. Here was
the business utterly spoiled! It was the gloom of anger, and even of
apprehension. He would perhaps have made a dash for it through the back
door, if Heyst had not been heard ascending the front steps. He climbed
them slowly, very slowly, like a man who is discouraged or weary--or
simply thoughtful; and Ricardo had a mental vision of his face, with its
martial moustache, the lofty forehead, the impassive features, and the
quiet, meditative eyes. Trapped! Confound it! After all, perhaps the
governor was right. Women had to be shunned. Fooling with this one had
apparently ruined the whole business. For, trapped as he was he might
just as well kill, since, anyhow, to be seen was to be unmasked. But he
was too fair-minded to be angry with the girl.
Heyst had paused on the veranda, or in the very doorway.
"I shall be shot down like a dog if I ain't quick," Ricardo muttered
excitedly to the girl.
He stooped to get hold of his knife; and the next moment would have
hurled himself out through the curtain, nearly, as prompt and fully as
deadly to Heyst as an unexpected thunderbolt. The feel more than the
strength of the girl's hand, clutching at his shoulder, checked him. He
swung round, crouching with a yellow upward glare. Ah! Was she turning
against him?
He would have stuck his knife into the hollow of her bare throat if
he had not seen her other hand pointing to the window.
Pages:
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359