Ewing shrewdly noted where the dagger fell, then his eyes flashed to Teevan. There was a stain of blood on the silken shirt, and the little man was staring down at this, incredulous.
"By God! she meant it!" he muttered. Then his eyes rose to meet Ewing's, and a look of sudden malignance blazed into them.
"So you've come!" The cry, like the look, was full of hate. "You've come in time, you whelp! Now you'll hear something you might have heard that first night when I had to fuddle you with tales of a seizure. Now you'll know——"
But the woman started toward him with a suddenness that broke his speech.
"If you tell him he'll kill you—" The words came with a quick, whispering intensity, and there was a rapt, almost rejoicing look on her face, as of one eager for the deed.
Teevan looked scornfully to Ewing again, but was chilled by a certain sharp, cold light in his eyes, the look of one alert and ready. His words gave meaning to this look.
"If you tell me, I'll kill you," said Ewing. The sentence was evenly uttered, and the tone was low, almost deferential, but the intention was not to be mistaken.
Teevan laughed, flourishing a gesture of scorn for the threat.
"I'm no coward"—but he broke off, waiting, watching, with fear in his eyes.
"I'll take this," said Ewing. He lifted the portrait tenderly from the chair and thrust it under his arm with a protecting movement. Teevan stared at this with an air of fine disdain, but did not speak.