“‘Los Puertos,’ he remarked philosophically, ‘is a very small place. It is very far away from your home, Señor Simmons.’ ‘I have been in places farther away, sir, and got back, too.’ ‘I own it all, Señor Americano; every soul of these people is mine.’ ‘So,’ I answered, as stiff for the boast as he, ‘the Techheimers are great people.’ And I blew a lot about my bosses, how they watched their men and took an eye for an eye, every time. Finally, we turned back toward the town and came through a patch of cactus to the river, which was brawling along over big stones. There was a narrow foot-bridge across. ‘After you,’ says the Don. I looked him in the eye, and thought I saw the twinkle of mischief.
“I never wanted to do murder before or since. But there in the dusk, beside that dirty river of mud and stones from the mountains, where he meant to drown me, I came near wringing his neck. I guess my nerves had got tired of expecting things to happen. I walked up to him, and I must have looked fierce, for he whistled, and one or two men who were skulking about joined us. I was so mad that a moment more and I should have had my hands about his windpipe, no matter whether they cut me into mince-meat the next minute. Do you know what it is to feel like doing murder? It’s the drunkest kind of feeling you can have—you don’t know yourself at all—”
“I should like to try that!” sighed Mrs. Bellflower.
At this point there seemed to come somewhere from the rooms above a frightened cry.
“Mercy!” exclaimed the young woman, “what’s that?”
Mrs. Simmons sprang up, and stood listening. Then they could all hear distinctly in a woman’s voice:
“Oh, oh! He has killed me! Oh, oh!” Then silence.
Before the last groans reached their ears Mrs. Simmons had darted into the dark drawing-room, calling as she sped, “Oscar! my little Oscar!”
On the terrace they could hear again more faintly the “Oh, oh, oh!” from above.
“And what did happen to your old Don?” Mrs. Bellflower asked with a show of unconcern.