45CHAPTER VI
A Bruising of Arms for Jacqueline
“Then John bent up his long bende-bowe,
And fetteled him to shoote.”
–Robin Hood.
Into the crowd before the café, the Storm Centre pushed the argument of shoulders, and quickly gained for himself the place which his pseudonym indicated. Then he stopped, and looked puzzled. Which side to take? The French, being outnumbered, offered the larger contract.
“What’s the row?” Driscoll inquired of Ney. But he was ignored. “Might answer,” he suggested insidiously, “for it’s only a toss-up anyhow which way I enlist. Look here, Sky-Blue, if you don’t understand Spanish, just say so, and tell me why you don’t start the game.”
Ney shoved him aside impatiently, but he calmly stepped back again.
“Come now,” he argued plaintively, “let me in, don’t be selfish? But–goodness gracious, man, why don’t you draw your gun?”
“Because, my good fellow, I haven’t any.”
The mystery cleared at once, for now Driscoll understood the strategic outlay. Its key was Fra Diavolo, with a pistol at Ney’s head, and quite statuesque the romantic Mexican looked. But out of the tail of his eye Fra Diavolo noted the American, at first with contemptuous amusement only. Then, as though such had been the situation from the start, he grew aware of an ugly black muzzle under his chin. For very safety 46he froze rigid, and dared not turn his own weapon from Ney to his new aggressor. But he wondered how the ugly black muzzle came there. He had not seen the American move. But for those who did see, the action seemed deliberate, with no hint of the actual panther-like turn of the wrist from the waist outward.
With his left hand Driscoll next drew forth the second of the brace, and held it out to Ney in his palm. The Chasseur seized the weapon joyfully. He straightened as the humiliation of a disarmed soldier fell from him. But at once his face clouded, and with an oath he handed back the navy-six.