The crew of the
steam-yacht _Philomel_ helped in the transfer: there were plenty of
hands, and the work was done quickly; while the Meztizoes, Yucatekes,
Caribs, or whatever they were, looked on and grinned; and while Montesma
stood leaning against the mast, with folded arms and sombre brow, a
cigarette between his lips.
When the women and all their belongings were on board the _Philomel_,
Lord Hartfield addressed himself to Montesma.
'If you consider yourself entitled to call me to account for this
evening's work you know where to find me,' he said.
Montesma shrugged his shoulders, and threw away his cigarette with a
contemptuous gesture.
_'Ce n'est pas la peine,'_ he said; 'I am a dead shot, and
should be pretty sure to send a bullet through you if you gave me
the chance; but I should not be any nearer winning her if I killed
you: and it is she and she only that I want. You may think me an
adventurer--swindler--gambler--slave-dealer--what you will--but I love her
as I never thought to love a woman, and I should have been true as steel,
if she had been plucky enough to trust me.
Pages:
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872