Quintana leered at Darragh over his levelled weapons:
"My frien' Smith!" he exclaimed softly. "So it is you, then, who have twice try to rob me of my property!
"Ah! You recollec'? Yes? How you have rob me of a pacquet which contain only some chocolate?"
Darragh's face was burning with helpless rage.
"My frien', Smith," repeated Quintana, "do you recollec' what it was you say to me? Yes? … How often it is the onexpected which so usually happen? You are quite correc', l'ami Smith. It has happen."
He glanced at the open jewel box which one of the masked men held, then, like lightning, his sinister eyes focussed on Darragh.
"So," he said, "it was also you who rob me las' night of my property.
… What you do to Nick Salzar, eh?"
"Killed him," said Darragh, dry lipped, nerved for death. "I ought to have killed you, too, when I had the chance. But — I'm white, you see."
At the insult flung into his face over the muzzles of his own pistols,
Quintana burst into laughter.
"Ah! You should have shot me! You are quite right, my frien'. I mus; say you have behave ver' foolish."