That was all done away with now, for I was fully determined he should from this hour never lack for a berth where he could hold command.
There were other steam yachts, and I could, if I chose, invest a cool hundred thousand in one, for that Mediterranean trip, with Hildegarde at my side, held out fascinations to my hungry soul.
The golden eggs the alcalde did not get could be put to this good service.
“Is it Hildegarde, now?” I whispered, hoarsely, in Robbins’ ear, for a vague fear had arisen to give me disquiet, a fear lest he might have become so wrapped up in the schemes of the revolutionists that he would feel compelled to employ the first of his time to their cause.
In that event I would have gone it alone.
Now his ready answer reassured me.
“Hildegarde first, my lad, and all the time. My work depends wholly on her safety; if they find her a refuge, I’ve promised that both of us are with them, heart and soul,” he said.
That meant, of course, that I was to become a revolutionist.
Well, I would have done much more to insure her safety—adopted the calling of a contrabandista or smuggler—yes, even that of a pirate, if by so doing I could serve that little woman.
My re-entrance into Paradise had apparently loosened the screws of my brain box a trifle, which must be the excuse for any trace of extravagance of which I appeared guilty.