“Goods?” he said wonderingly, and then added as he met the Spaniard’s steady gaze, “Oh! ah! maybe I had, maybe I had,” and got up hastily.
Red caught hold of his hand.
“Take me,” he whispered.
French looked down at him and laughed as he stroked his honey-coloured beard.
“Come on, then, young ’un,” he said kindly.
Red whooped joyfully, and the big man and the little boy went to the door together.
Sue slipped her arm into French’s as he passed her.
“I’ll come a little way with ye, Ezekiel,” she murmured.
French put his arm about her and they went out.
Cip de Musset then rose to his feet.