He followed her for a few steps, trouble in his eyes.
“It is not enough. I must have your promise,” he said.
She looked at him coldly. “You will have it when I am ready to give it,” she said, and his face lightened for a moment, only to darken again.
“I will cut your heart out if you breathe a word of this to any one,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Is that the way for a lover to speak?” she returned.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “It is the way,--with me.”
“Come to me tomorrow and tell me exactly what my share of the treasure is to be,--and then I will let you know whether it is to be you--or Manuel Crust, my friend. Oh, you see, I am greedy,--and I can love Manuel quite as easily as I can love--”
“There--there! It will not be necessary. Come tomorrow.”
That same afternoon she went to Percival with the Spaniard's story.
“Well, we'll nip that in the bud,” said he, setting his jaw. “The first thing to do is to warn Landover.”
“Warn Landover!” cried the Russian. “He is all mix up in it,--he is one of ze ringleaders.”
“No, he isn't. He's not that kind of a man. He doesn't know a thing about all this, I'll stake my life on it.”
“But, Olga,” cried Ruth, white-faced and troubled; “Fernandez will kill you. He will,--Good heaven, girl, did he not swear to cut your heart out if you--”
“Poof!” cried the other, snapping her fingers. “He will not do zat, my dear. I am not afraid. Do you know what happens to informers in my country? They vanish. No one ever sees them again, and no one ever asks where they have gone. They are here today--tomorrow they are not. It is the same the world over.”
“You mean,--Manuel's men will make way with him? How horrible!”
“Do not waste your sympathy on zat Fernandez. He is no good. You would see what kind of man he is if this plot should succeed.”
“But you will have to give him your answer tomorrow,” cried Ruth.
Olga shot a keen glance at Percival's face.
“It is for you to say, Percivail, what my answer shall be,” said she, after, a slight pause. A queer pallor spread over her face.
“Are you not the governor? If it suits your plans for me to give myself to zat man--”
“My God, Olga! What the devil are you driving at?”
“--to satisfy him until you are prepared to nip zis revolution in the bud, as you say,--I shall--”