Daniel had sufficient presence of mind to retain it.
“You know that–that poor devil Tiburcio?” he gasped.
“Yes, yes!” But what anti-climax was here?
“Well, he–he’s dead. I saw him.–Lawd!”
“Oh!” It was a little cry of relief.
“But some were–were killed–taking him.” Boone noted Jacqueline’s intake of breath, her first tremor of alarm. “He fought like a–a wildcat. He had a knife–and a machete–and a pistol–and––”
“Who was killed? Monsieur–Oh, mon Dieu, what can you have to tell me?”
Daniel almost repented, there was that in her gray eyes.
“Among them was my–” He nerved himself to it, some way–“my best friend, that peerless––”
“Who?” Her command was imperious, her white teeth were set.