The rock where he crouched lay at the mouth of this cove towards Deliverance, it being one of many that lay piled thereabout. Now chancing to look towards these scattered rocks (and for no reason in the world) I saw a thing that held me as it were spellbound, and this a small enough thing in itself, a sharp, glittering thing that seemed fast caught in a fissure of one of those rocks, and I knew it for a steel hook; but even as I stared at it, the thing was gone and so noiselessly that I half-doubted if I had seen it or no. But, out from the shadow of this rock flashed something that whirled, glittering as it flew, and Red Andy, starting up from his knees was shaken by a fit of strange and awful coughing and came stumbling forward so that I could see his chin and breast bedabbled with the blood that spurted from his gaping mouth. All at once he sank to his knees and thence to his face, spreading his arms wide like one very weary, but with the moonlight flashing back from that which stood upright betwixt his shoulder-blades. And thus I saw again the silver haft of the dagger that was shaped like to a woman, saw this silver woman dance and leap, glittering, ere it grew terribly still.
Then came Roger Tressady from the shadows and stooping, turned up the dead face to the moon, and tapped it gently with his shining hook. And now, whipping out his dagger, he bent to wipe it on the dead man's shirt, but checked suddenly as a pebble started beneath my foot, and, stooped thus, he glared up beneath thick brows as I rose up with pistol levelled and the moon bright upon my face, whereupon he leaped backwards, uttering a choking cry:
"Black Bartlemy—by God!" he gasped and let fall his reeking dagger upon the sand; and so we stood staring on each other and with the dead man sprawling betwixt us.
CHAPTER XLIV
HOW I HAD SPEECH WITH ROGER TRESSADY TO MY UNDOING
For maybe a full minute we fronted each other unmoving and with never a word; and thus at last I beheld this man Tressady.
A tall, lusty fellow, square of face and with pale eyes beneath a jut of shaggy brow. A vivid neckerchief was twisted about his head and in his hairy ears swung great gold rings; his powerful right hand was clenched to knotted fist, in place of his left glittered the deadly hook.
"Sink me!" says he at last, drawing clenched fist across his brow, "Sink me, but ye gave me a turn, my lord! Took ye for a ghost, I did, the ghost of a shipmate o' mine, one as do lie buried yonder, nought but poor bones—aye, rotten bones—as this will be soon!" Here he spurned the dead man with his foot. "'Tis black rogue this, my lord, one as would ha' made worm's-meat o' poor Tressady—aye, a lump o' murdered clay like my shipmate Bartlemy yonder—but for this Silver Woman o' mine!" Here he stooped for the dagger, and having cleaned it in the sand, held it towards me upon his open palm: "Aha, here's woman hath never failed me yet! She's faithful and true, friend, faithful and true, this Silver Woman o' mine. But 'tis an ill world, my master, and full o' bloody rogues like this sly dog as stole ashore to murder me—the fool! O 'tis a black and bloody world."
"So it is!" quoth I, 'twixt shut teeth, "And all the worse for the likes o' you, Roger Tressady!"