The girl's sweet, low-pitched voice sounded inexpressibly sad in that vaulted place. Even De Sylva's studied control gave way before its music. He uttered some anguished appeal to the deity in his own tongue, and flung out his hands impulsively.
"What would you have me say?" he cried, and his eyes blazed, while the scar on his forehead darkened with the gust of passion that swept over his strong features. "I might lie to you, and try to persuade you that we can exist here without food or water, whereas to-morrow, or next day at the utmost, will see most of us dead. But in a few hours you will realize what it means to be kept on this bare rock under a tropical sun. You can do one thing. Your party greatly outnumbers mine. Climb to the top-most pinnacle and signal to the island. You will soon be seen."
He laughed with a savage irony that was not good to hear, but Coke caught at the suggestion.
"Even that is better'n tearin' one another like mad dogs," he growled. "I know wot's comin'. I've seen it wonst."
Hozier made for the exit, where Marcel stood, irresolute, apparently waiting for orders.
"Where are you going?" demanded De Sylva.
"To see what is becoming of the lifeboat."
"Better not. You cannot help your friend, and the instant it becomes known to the troops that there is a living soul on the Grand-père rock they will come in a steam launch and shoot everyone at sight."
"Will that be the answer to our signal?"
It was Iris who asked the question, and the Brazilian's voice softened again.