At this moment the curtain was pushed aside, and the Frenchwoman Marguerite, stood before them.
“Well, Marguerite?” said the outlaw, looking up.
“Did you expect any of the men to return to-night?” she asked, looking with the same glance of sharp suspicion from one to the other.
“No. Why?”
“Some of them are without; they have given the signal.”
“Oh, well, tell Bart to await them. I did not expect them, but something may have brought them back. Admit them at once.”
The woman turned and left the room, and the outlaw, looking at Ray, said, with a sad smile:
“Poor Marguerite! she has been faithful through all, clinging to me with a love of which I am utterly unworthy. Poor Marguerite! she was deserving of a better fate.”
“I suppose she has now quite recovered from the loss of her child,” said Ray.
“Never! she has never been the same since. Dear Rita! sweet little angel! Oh! Raymond, I loved that child as—”