"If you were to order it done, señora, and the knife were at my throat," said he, "your order would certainly be countermanded."
"What! By whom?" cried Cervera, with her passionate, dark eyes fiercely blazing. "I'll have you know that I rule here—and not here alone!"
"Yet your command would be revoked, señora."
"For what reason, villain?"
"It would be revoked at the request of our mutual friend, Mr. Rufus Venner, to whom I presently shall explain my conduct, and also implore your own pardon, señora, for having made you the mark of my very unworthy suspicions," cried Nick, with a sudden dramatic display of dignity and confidence.
It brought Venner sharply to his feet.
"Good heavens!" he cried. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Ay, what do you mean?" roared Kilgore, bracing straight up in his chair and reaching for his gun—a move Nick pretended he did not see.
"I only mean, gentlemen, that I am no burglar," cried Nick, in his natural voice, at the same time raising his bound hands to remove his disguise. "Allow me, Mr. Venner, to present myself in proper person."
"The devil and all his followers!" yelled Venner. "You're—you're Nick Carter!"