"But you will answer me?"
"Yes," she said, her eyes dilated as if with sudden interest.
"Where's that plunder? Do you know?"
"No! Not yet."
"But there is plunder stowed somewhere that's worth having?"
"Yes, I think so. But who knows?" she added after a pause.
"And who cares?" he retorted recklessly. "I've had enough of this
crawling on my belly. It's you who are my treasure. It's I who found you
out where a gentleman had buried you to rot for his accursed pleasure!"
He looked behind him and all around for a seat, then turned to her his
troubled eyes and dim smile.
"I am dog-tired," he said, and sat down on the floor. "I went tired this
morning, since I came in here and started talking to you--as tired as if
I had been pouring my life-blood here on these planks for you to dabble
your white feet in."
Unmoved, she nodded at him thoughtfully. Woman-like, all her faculties
remained concentrated on her heart's desire--on the knife--while the man
went on babbling insanely at her feet, ingratiating and savage, almost
crazy with elation. But he, too, was holding on to his purpose.
"For you! For you I will throw away money, lives--all the lives but
mine! What you want is a man, a master that will let you put the heel of
your shoe on his neck; not that skulker, who will get tired of you in a
year--and you of him.
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