"I'll wait for you," murmured Donnegan sadly, and he stood as the door of the little building with bowed head.
And then a murmur came down the street. How small it was, and how sinister! It consisted of exclamations begun, and then broken sharply off. A swirl of people divided as a cloud of dust divides before a blast of wind, and through them came the gigantic figure of Lord Nick!
On he came, a gorgeous figure, a veritable king of men. He carried his hat in his hand and his red hair flamed, and he walked with great strides. Donnegan glanced behind him. The way was clear. If he turned, Lord Nick would not pursue him, he knew.
But to flee even from his brother was more than he could do; for the woman he loved would know of it and could never understand.
He touched the holster that held his empty gun—and waited!
An eternity between every step of Lord Nick. Others seemed to have sensed the meaning of this silent scene. People seemed to stand frozen in the midst of gestures. Or was that because Donnegan's own thoughts were traveling at such lightning speed that the rest of the world seemed standing still? What kept Lou Macon? If she were with him, not even Lord Nick in his madness would force on a gunplay in the presence of a woman, no doubt.
Lord Nick was suddenly close; he had paused; his voice rang over the street and struck upon Donnegan's ear as sounds come under water.
"Donnegan!"
"Aye!" called Donnegan softly.
"It's the time!"