Then Barosa looked across at me. “We are all agreed that this is our only course, Mr. Donnington.”
I met his look firmly. “You can murder me if you will, but it will not help you. You know that,” I replied.
“Will you write what I require?”
“No.”
“Now,” he said sharply to the others.
They looked to see that the revolvers were loaded, glanced at each other and raised them slowly, pointing them at my head and waiting for the word to fire.
“I give you one last chance, Mr. Donnington,” said Barosa.
CHAPTER XXIX
MIRALDA’S APPEAL
WHETHER I was really so near death as it appeared when the two pistols were levelled close to my head and the men were waiting for the word to fire, or whether it was no more than a well-played and realistically-staged bluff to frighten me into writing the instructions to Captain Bolton, I have never been able to decide. I think now, it was only pretence from beginning to end; but I believed it was grim earnest then, and that when I answered Barosa’s question with another refusal, I was signing my own death-warrant.
But in the pause before he gave the order to fire there was a sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs, and Inez rushed into the room. With a cry of horror she dashed between me and the levelled weapons.