"We shall see," and with a muttered execration, full of hatred and malice, he rushed from the place.
When, an hour or two later, Mrs. Wilders hunted him up at the Redhot Shell Ramp, she found him in a mood fit for any desperate deed. But, with native cunning, he pretended to show reluctance when she asked him for his help.
"Who is it you hate? An Englishman? Any one on the Rock?" he said. "And what do you want done? I have no wish to bring myself within reach of the English law."
"It is an English officer. He is here just now, but will presently return to the Crimea."
"What is his name?" asked Benito, eagerly, his black heart inflamed with a wild hope of revenge.
"McKay—Stanislas McKay, of the Royal Picts."
It was his name! A fierce, baleful light gleamed in Benito's dark eyes; he clenched his fists and set his teeth fast.
"You know him?" said Mrs. Wilders, readily interpreting these signs of hate.
"I should like to kill him!" hissed Benito.
"Do so, and claim your own reward."