E. W. Hornung: Dead Men Tell No Tales

CHAPTER 17: THIEVES FALL OUT (continued)

"Yes, yes. But not yet, my good friend - not yet. We want his asseestance in getting the gold back to the sea; he will be glad enough to give it, now that his pet bird has flown; after that - by all mins. You shall cut his troth, and I will put one of 'is dear friend's bullets in 'im for my own satisfaction."

There was a quick step on the stairs-in the corridor.

"I'd like to do it now," whispered Harris; "no time like the present."

"Not yet, I tell you!"

And Rattray was in the room, a silver-mounted pistol in each hand; the sight of these was a surprise to his treacherous confederates, as even I could see.

"What the devil are you two doing here?" he thundered.

"We thought he was too quite, said Santos. "You percive the rizzon."

And he waved from empty bed to open window, then held the candle close to the tied sheet, and shrugged expressively.

"You thought he was too quiet!" echoed Rattray with fierce scorn. "You thought I was too blind - that's what you mean. To tell me that Miss Denison wished to see me, and Miss Denison that I wished to speak to her! As if we shouldn't find you out in about a minute! But a minute was better than nothing, eh? And you've made good use of your minute, have you. You've murdered him, and you pretend he's got out? By God, if you have, I'll murder you! I've been ready for this all night!"

And he stood with his back to the window, his pistols raised, and his head carried proudly - happily - like a man whose self-respect was coming back to him after many days. Harris shrank before his fierce eyes and pointed barrels. The Portuguese, however, had merely given a characteristic shrug, and was now rolling the inevitable cigarette.