“There has,” said Varley, quite slowly; “and the man you call her husband will find it so if ever I have the pleasure of making it clear to him.”
Norman moved impatiently.
“I quite understand,” he said. “I honor you for your feeling this way; but I tell you there has been a mistake. I have come over to set it straight. I can explain everything to Esmeralda if you will take me to her.”
Varley looked at him in silence for so long that it almost seemed as if he had forgotten him, then he said, with a sternness that sounded strange coming from him:
“Or you think you can. Stop; don’t tell me anything. I will take you to Esmeralda. She may see you or she may not. But mind, if she should refuse to do so, you’ll go straight back to England, or to the devil, if you like; and if you set foot in Three Star again—you, or any of your kind—I’ll shoot you like a dog!”
Norman bit his lip.
“I agree,” he said. “I’m quite willing that you should shoot me now and here, Mr. Howard, if it would help to set matters straight and restore Esmeralda to her husband and happiness. Take me to her.”
The two men went up the hill-side in silence. Varley paused once to roll a cigarette, and smoked it with his usual deliberation, but there was a fire in his eyes, hidden behind their long lashes, which indicated the condition of his mind.
As they approached the hut, Varley took hold of Norman’s bridle.
“Wait here!” he said.