Too dark, eh? Why
not go with him to the very spot, then?"
Heyst made a gesture of vague protest.
"There's nothing to assure me that he will stay there. I have no doubt
of his going, but it's an act without guarantee."
"There you are!" Ricardo shrugged his shoulders philosophically. "Can't
be helped. Short of shooting our Pedro, nobody can make absolutely sure
of his staying in the same place longer than he has a mind to; but I
tell you, he lives in holy terror of my temper. That's why I put on my
sudden-death air when I talk to him. And yet I wouldn't shoot him--not
I, unless in such a fit of rage as would make a man shoot his favourite
dog. Look here, sir! This deal is on the square. I didn't tip him a wink
to do anything else. He won't budge from the jetty. Are you coming along
now, sir?"
A short-silence ensued. Ricardo's jaws were working ominously under his
skin. His eyes glided: voluptuously here and there, cruel and dreamy,
Heyst checked a sudden movement, reflected for a while, then said:
"You must wait a little."
"Wait a little! Wait a little! What does he think a fellow is--a graven
image?" grumbled Ricardo half audibly.
Heyst went into the bedroom, and shut the door after him with a bang.
Coming from the light, he could not see a thing in there at first; yet
he received the impression of the girl getting up from the floor.
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