At the last pair De Lara looks not, the first enchaining his attention. Only one short glance he gives them; another to a pistol which hangs holstered on the hip of a gold-digger guarding him.
A spring, and he has possession of it; a bound, and he is off from between the two men, and rushing on towards the group standing apart!
Fortunately for Edward Crozier—for Carmen Montijo as well—there are cries of alarm, shouts of warning, that reach him in time.
He turns on hearing them, sees the approaching danger, and takes measures to avert it. Simple enough these—but the drawing of his revolver, and firing at the man who advances.
Two shots are heard, one on each side, almost simultaneous; but enough apart to decide which of the two who fired must fall.
Crozier’s pistol had cracked first; and as the smokes of both swirl up, the gambler is seen astretch upon the sward—the blood spurting from his breast, and spreading over his shirt bosom!
Harry Blew, rushing forward, and bending over him, cries out:
“Dead! Shot through the heart—a brave heart too! What a pity ’twar so black!”
“Come away, mia querida!” says Crozier to Carmen. “Your father will be suffering from anxiety about you. You’ve had enough of the horrible. Let us hope this is the end of it.”
Taking his betrothed by the hand, he leads her down to the boat—Cadwallader and Iñez accompanying them.