"But you don't know what Silvestre is," said Ferguson, not daring to meet my eyes. "It would be madness to thwart him."
"If I don't know what he is," I retorted, "I at least know what I am. I brought these unfortunate people here. He shall not harm them, if it costs me all I have on earth, even life itself. And what is more, if you're a man you'll help me."
"But what can I do?" he answered helplessly. "I have always been considered a fairly plucky fellow. I must confess, however, that this business is too much for me. I've a wife and family to think of, you know!"
"Your wife would despise you above all living men if she knew that you were a party to the murder of that woman," I answered.
He scratched his chin and looked at me in a perplexed way. It was evident to me that I must not expect very much assistance from him.
"To my mind a man ought to think of his wife and children before anything else," he said at last, in a tone of apology. "If anything happens to me what is to become of them? I'm beginning to think I was a fool to have told you anything about it!"
"Not a bit of it," I answered. "There, at least, you did an honest action. Don't spoil it by drawing back."
This only elicited his old query.
"But what can we do?"
"We must get them out of the island before Silvestre can do them a mischief," I replied.