“I believe what I know. You had Dunbar in your grip, in London. Since then he has never been himself. His spirit is broken and his courage gone.”
“Surely he lacks courage, else he would not have deserted you to-day. He ran away in the most cowardly manner when we appeared. It was our intention to take him along with you. I thought you would feel better about it if you had him for company.”
Nadia felt a twinge of shame for her brother, who had displayed the white feather in the most pitiful manner.
The account of the affair, as given by Budthorne to Merriwell and Buckhart, was true with the single exception of Dunbar’s statement that he had defended Nadia until struck down. This part of the story he had founded on Dick’s experience in defense of the girl in Damascus. His befuddled and unimaginable brain had been incapable of devising a different yarn.
“No wonder he fears you, Miguel Bunol!” panted the girl. “He has every reason to fear you.”
“That is no excuse for his cowardly conduct. No brave man ever deserts a lady in time of peril.”
“Perhaps you think yourself competent to judge a brave man?” she sneered. “Perhaps you really believe yourself brave?”
“I know what I am! but, with your brother concerned, I wish to make no unpleasant comparisons.”
“How kind of you! You are such a gallant gentleman!”
Her scorn was scorching, but he declined to be touched by it. Coolly he lighted a fresh cigarette.