Part 41 (1/2)
Darragh's face was burning with helpless rage.
”My frien', Smith,” repeated Quintana, ”do you recollec' what it was you say to me? Yes?... How often it is the onexpected which so usually happen? You are quite correc', l'ami Smith. It has happen.”
He glanced at the open jewel box which one of the masked men held, then, like lightning, his sinister eyes focussed on Darragh.
”So,” he said, ”it was also you who rob me las' night of my property....
What you do to Nick Salzar, eh?”
”Killed him,” said Darragh, dry lipped, nerved for death. ”I ought to have killed you, too, when I had the chance. But--_I'm_ white, you see.”
At the insult flung into his face over the muzzles of his own pistols, Quintana burst into laughter.
”Ah! You _should_ have shot me! You are quite right, my frien'. I mus'
say you have behave ver' foolish.”
He laughed again so hard that Darragh felt his pistols shaking against his body.
”So you have kill Nick Salzar, eh?” continued Quintana with perfect good humour. ”My frien', I am oblige to you for what you do. You are surprise? Eh? It is ver' simple, my frien' Smith. What I want of a man who can be kill? Eh? Of what use is he to me? Voila!”
He laughed, patted Darragh on the shoulder with one of his pistols.
”You, now--_you_ could be of use. Why? Because you are a better man than was Nick Salzar. He who kills is better than the dead.”
Then, swiftly his dark features altered:
”My frien' Smith,” he said, ”I have come here for my property, not to kill. I have recover my property. Why shall I kill you? To say that I am a better man? Yes, perhaps. But also I should be oblige to say that also I am a fool. Yaas! A poor damfool.”
Without s.h.i.+fting his eyes he made a motion with one pistol to his men.
As they turned and entered the thicket, Quintana's intent gaze became murderous.
”If I mus' kill you I shall do so. Otherwise I have sufficient trouble to keep me from ennui. My frien', I am going home to enjoy my property.
If you live or die it signifies nothing to me. No! Why, for the pleasure of killing you, should I bring your dirty gendarmes on my heels?”
He backed away to the edge of the thicket, venturing one swift and evil glance at the girl who stood as though dazed.
”Listen attentively,” he said to Darragh. ”One of my men remains hidden very near. He is a dead shot. His aim is at your--sweetheart's--body.
You understan'?”
”Yes.”
”Ver' well. You shall not go away for one hour time. After that----” he took off his slouch hat with a sweeping bow--”you may go to h.e.l.l!”
Behind him the bushes parted, closed.
Jose Quintana had made his adieux.