I shouted, "Don't fire!" and lowered my gun.
"You bleedin' cur!" Red yelled. "I'm goin' to kill you!" And he wrestled with the woman to throw her clear.
I jumped to my feet, and showed Red my Colt, spinning the empty cylinder. "Not loaded, Red. You see? I didn't expect a fight."
I sheathed my Colt, then snatched Red's Enfield. "This one, you see, is loaded," and I spilled the cartridges, then battered his gun against the rock until the trigger smashed.
"You didn't understand me," I explained. "You betrayed your friend, you betrayed this unhappy woman in her trouble. How should you understand? I am fastidious, and do not grant to curs the honor of engaging me. There, you may have your gun. Catch!"
I walked to my horse and mounted. "You may understand," I said, "that this lady was my wife, but it seemed that love was buried, with a little cross on the grave. So the Señora la Mancha was free. But I was not free. She might have intended only a brief absence on business of her own, or perhaps a holiday. She might have been taken by force or lured away by fraud. She might still care for me, and she might return.
"I came here to get proof, to find out for certain which of us two she loves. It was into your arms, not mine, she threw herself. Is it not proved? The honor of guarding this lady is yours, not mine."
Then Red's eyes fell before mine, and he understood.
"Señora," I lifted my hat, and bowed to her for the last time on earth. "When Beauty murdered her sister Chastity, she was turned into a vulture.
"You may remember that Joe Chambers died for you, and Sarde lost his career, and I was ruined, as this poor man will be ruined, and others after him.