Part 11 (2/2)
Nick hoped she did.
”And all I regret is,” added the vixenish Spaniard, ”that the bullet of my watchman did not end your villainous life.”
”We can end it now, senora, if you say the word,” put in Matthew Stall, with grim readiness.
Nick never accepted such scenes as this at their face value, for he had witnessed many a similar game of bluff. This one might be all right and on the level, he reasoned, yet there still existed the possibility that he was recognized, and that these remarks implying the contrary were only a part of some well-laid plan.
”If you think I'm a thief, why don't you hand me over to the police?” he shrewdly demanded.
The ruse worked. For a moment Cervera was caught with no ready reply, and Nick promptly decided that he was known, hence could not well be given to the police.
Yet these parties so obviously aimed to hide the fact that he was known to be Nick Carter, that Nick quickly resolved to let them have all the rope they wanted, and to meet them with a counter-move--that of boldly declaring his own ident.i.ty, and so disarming them of any misgiving that he had recognized Kilgore and Matthew Stall, or even had any suspicions of Senora Cervera.
It was a very clever counter, and Nick went at it cleverly.
”Why don't you give me to the police, if you think I'm a thief?” he repeated, when Cervera made no reply.
”The police?--bah!” she now cried, with a sneer. ”For what? That you may square yourself in some way, or make your escape, and then come back here to attempt the job again?”
”H'm!” thought Nick. ”They don't want to let me go before learning what I suspect. I won't do a thing but fool them in that.”
”Police be hanged!” Cervera quickly added. ”In my country we have a surer way of removing such villains as you.”
”What way?” queried Nick, coolly.
”_Caramba!_ The garrote!”
”Choke 'em off, eh?”
”Or the poniard!”
”A stab between the ribs, I take it.”
”Yes! It is what you deserve.”
”But you will not try it on me,” declared Nick, confidently.
”Don't you be too sure of it.”
”Oh, I'm sure enough of it.”
”The law would never reach us--don't think that,” cried Cervera, with a pa.s.sionate sneer. ”_Caramba!_ we'd plant your miserable bones where they'd never be found. Don't think, you wretch, that we fear to do it.”
”Yet I don't fear that you will.”
”You don't?”
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