“Oh, yes—meaning that Chink that has ran away from you. He ain't much!”
“He has a revolver,” observed Heyst meaningly.
“Well, and you have a revolver, too,” Mr. Ricardo argued unexpectedly. “I don't worry myself about that.”
“That's different. I am not afraid of you,” Heyst made answer after a short pause.
“Of me?”
“Of all of you.”
“You have a queer way of putting things,” began Ricardo.
At that moment the door on the compound side of the house came open with some noise, and Pedro entered, pressing the edge of a loaded tray to his breast. His big, hairy head rolled a little, his feet fell in front of each other with a short, hard thump on the floor. The arrival changed the current of Ricardo's thought, perhaps, but certainly of his speech.
“You heard me whistling a little while ago outside? That was to give him a hint, as I came along, that it was time to bring in the dinner; and here it is.”
Lena rose and passed to the right of Ricardo, who lowered his glance for a moment. They sat down at the table. The enormous gorilla back of Pedro swayed out through the door.