“And here I am, Rene, too. By special permission of Col. Calves Liver out there. You can be certain there are rats in his garret. He talked like a madman.”
“Great Heavens, Keen! You don’t think he really intends to play the Pallidas onto my sister and grandfather, do you? Not that!”
“Rene, I wouldn’t tell you only that I think he means to do just that. I tell you the bird isn’t right! He means to make short work of us, too.”
Renan clenched his hands together.
“I’ve got friends in this outfit—all these men trust me and like me. They liked Ceara, too, but, like everyone else, they fear Goncalves like poison. But maybe I can work something, Keen. Don’t get discouraged.”
“I’m not, only Calves Liver told me the glad news that Ceara died of fever.”
“He lied,” Renan muttered darkly. “He’s had the poor man shot. He was jealous of everybody. Now that he’s got Ceara out of the way, and myself—he can rule. Maybe. We’ll see, Keen—we’ll see!”
“And what a mess for a couple of Americans to get into, huh? Excuse me though, Rene, I forgot.”
“Don’t, Keen! I rather like being taken for an American. If I had to do it all over again....”
“Yes?”