“Well, my pretty one, at last.”
He looked at her, his face full of gloating triumph. He locked the door, and gave a chuckling laugh.
“Now I’ve got you, my chicken. Ha! Ha! no one gets away from Popol. He’s sure, is Popol. Once he gets on the trail he never gives up. It’s been a long trail, my beauty, but now....”
Suddenly his voice grew thick with fury.
“Now I’ll teach you who’s your master. You’ll be glad to kiss my dirty boots before I’ve done with you. Ah, you needn’t squeal for help. No one will hear you; I’ve planned well. I have taken the room next to yours. Been there since Saturday. There are no other neighbours, and the people in the flat below are in the country. You are absolutely at my mercy,—in my power.”
He was in no hurry. From behind his ear he took a cigarette and lit it at the little night-lamp. The girl watched him, fascinated as a bird is by a snake. He enjoyed her terror, and prolonged it. Then passion seized him. He gripped her by the arm. At last she found her voice.
“No, no,” she gasped. “Spare me. Have pity. I will give you all the money I have. Here! Take this!”
From under her pillow she drew her purse and thrust it at him. He snatched it with a laugh, looked inside, and put it carefully in his pocket.
“That’s all right,” he jeered; “I expect you’ll make lots more for me in days to come. Yes, I’ll have your money, and, by God, I’ll have you too....”
With a leap he had her in his powerful grip and the struggle began. He held her arms so that she could not move them, and pressed his coarse lips to her face. At their touch madness seized her. She bit fiercely into the flabby fold of his cheek. With a snarl of pain he released her.