Nervously the girl was fumbling at her throat, where, suspended by a fine gold chain, hung a cameo, a delicately carved rose, as red as her lips, and as life-like. She nodded, quite as though her life hung by that gold thread and depended at the high end upon his decision.
"Your husband's nationality?" he asked abruptly.
"He is a Portuguese gentleman, my father's cousin."
"It would be possible for me, perhaps, to aid a lady in distress by punishing the cause of it."
"You mean——"
"I will gladly undertake to thrash the gentleman, if it would do any good."
"No, no! That would not do."
"Then there's no choice for me. Either I must accept or decline your invitation."
"I pray you will! I have told you frankly and quickly, because time is valuable. We have none to lose. A steamer leaves for Formosa and Moji the morning after we arrive—at daybreak. We would scarcely have time to complete our plans, and embark."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Complete our plans?" he intoned.