The pirate chieftain—or, as we will call him for the present, Count Cadillac—had not the slightest idea of Bessie’s intention until she had succeeded in turning the weapon upon herself, and the muzzle of it was already against her temple.
If the revolver had been an ordinary one, or if the muscles of Bessie Harlan’s fingers had been firmer and stronger, she must have taken her own life then and there, before her companion could have done aught to prevent it. But the weapon was of the double-action pattern; more than that, the action was firm and strong, so that it required a considerable exertion of the muscles of the fingers to work it.
Then again, the position in which she was obliged to hold it strained the muscles of the right hand in such a position that the feat of pulling the trigger sufficiently to raise the hammer past the catch was twice difficult. Double-action revolvers are not the best in the world for the uses of people with suicidal intent.
As has already been said, the muzzle of the weapon was already against her temple, before the count fully realized her intent; but then he leaped forward with a sudden cry. Perhaps his sudden action, together with the cry he uttered, had something to do with disconcerting her; at all events, he was in time.
It is doubtful, too, if she realized what she was about to do.
A creature of impulses always, the count’s words of love spoken at such a time, and bringing to mind, as they did, that the time was not far distant in the past when she had consented to listen to him, and when she had not repulsed him—when even she had secretly convinced herself that she might some day love this man—filled her with such horror of her present position that death seemed to be the only way of escape.
It is certain that she intended to kill herself. It is certain that she intended to send the bullet through her brain and thus to escape at once and for all time the horror of her present surroundings. It is also certain that the sudden activity of the count prevented her from carrying her impulse to a fatal termination.
It will be remembered that the table was between them; that she stood facing him at one side of it, while he was half-way across the cabin from her, at the opposite side. But his leap toward her was like the spring of a panther, and the cry he uttered was so filled with horror, amazement, terror, and remorse for bringing her to such a pass, that it startled even her, wrapped up as she was in her fatal resolve.
As he leaped forward he threw himself bodily across the table, scattering the books and papers, and the electric drop-light that stood in the center of it, in every direction, and upon every side.