"Lucky for me you don't make a practice of taking your tin toy pistol in swimming with you," ho teased on, "or else there 'd be a funeral right here on the beach pretty pronto of a perfectly nice young man whose intentions are never less than the best."
The Indian boy returned at this moment running with her bathing wrap, which she snatched from him and put on hastily. Next, with the boy's help, she attacked the knot again. When the handkerchief came off she flung it from her as if in truth it were a viperine.
"It was contamination," she flashed, for his benefit.
But Francis, still engaged in hardening his heart against her, shook his head slowly and said:
"It doesn't save you, Leoncia. I've left my mark on you that never will come off."
He pointed to the excoriations he had made on her knee and laughed.
"The mark of the beast," she came back, turning to go. "I warn you to take yourself off, Mr. Henry Morgan."
But he stepped in her way.
"And now we'll talk business, Miss Solano," he said in changed tones. "And you will listen. Let your eyes flash all they please, but don't interrupt me." He stooped and picked up the note he had been engaged in writing. "I was just sending that to you by the boy when you screamed. Take it. Read it. It won't bite you. It isn't a viperine."
Though she refused to receive it, her eyes involuntarily scanned the opening line: