She had her Antony at her feet, looking up at her,
as she recited her lesson, with darkly luminous eyes, obviously
worshipping her, obviously intent on winning her without counting the
cost. When had a Montesma ever counted the cost to himself or
others--the cost in gold, in honour, in human life? The records of Cuba
in the palmy days of the slave trade would tell how lightly they held
the last; and for honour, well, the private hells of island and main
could tell their tale of specially printed playing cards, in which the
swords or stars on the back of each card had a secret language of their
own, and were as finger-posts for the initiated player.
Mr. Smithson had business on shore, and was fain to leave the yacht for
an hour or two before dinner. He invited Don Gomez to go with him, but
the offer was graciously declined.
'Amigo, I don't care even to look at land in such weather. It is so
detestably dry,' he pleaded. 'It is only the sound of the sea gurgling
against the hull that reconciles one to existence. Go, and be happy at
your club, and send off those occult telegrams of yours, dearest.
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