"The wealth is mine! The reward comes to me!" shouted his opponent.
He sprang at his enemy with a bound which carried him to close quarters. And then, while the unfortunate Alvarez still stood looking at his fractured blade, he drove his own weapon through his body.
"Die yourself!" shouted the Spaniard "Die, and so keep a silent tongue for ever! I will take care of the treasure."
He looked at his victim, who lay dead already, and then swung round to go into the treasure chamber. But the figure of the English giant stood there, gaunt and unnaturally slim, hollow-cheeked and deadly pale, but cool, calm, and collected, and wearing a smile as he handled his stout English sword.
"The treasure is mine," said Roger, softly. "I held the disc for those who sent me here, and this man stole it from me. It comes back to me, and with it the treasure. Dispute my word if you dare."
The Spaniard was staggered. Just as Alvarez had stood rooted to the spot at the sudden sight of the treasure, he remained staring at Roger, hardly able to believe his eyes. Then he gave vent to a snarl of rage, and gripped his sword.
