“Then who are they?” questioned Dick.
“Bravos, desperadoes of the city—men who rob and murder! They have been sent by the Ten, for——”
He stopped, catching his breath. Among those men, and at the head of them, he saw a man whose clothing still hung dripping damp upon his limbs. This man’s jacket was gone, and about his shoulder were many bandages. His arm was bound in a bent position to his side.
“Mullura!” gasped Reggie. “He still lives!”
“You’re right!” savagely retorted the leader of the bravos. “I still live, and I’ll yet have Teresa for my own! You shall die the death of a dog!”
“This is a whole lot interesting!” observed Brad Buckhart.
At this point Teresa produced a slender dagger, which she held aloft, crying down the stairs:
“Ere you put your hands on me, Nicola Mullura, I’ll plunge this into my heart! It is my dead body you may obtain—no more!”
For a moment Mullura seemed taken aback. Then he forced a laugh, sneering:
“Very finely spoken, but your courage will not take you that far, beautiful Teresa. You’ll not be so foolish. I’ll take you with me to America, where I am a great man, and you shall be my wife. If your brother agrees to this, I will not lift my hand against him, even though he so nearly destroyed me to-night. Come, my Reggio, what say you?”