e went coolly to where he could look over the heap of the collapsed wall. He saw a bundle of torn clothing that had been a man. It was flung against a cracked and tottering chimney.
"Right," he said evenly. "Ribiera's dead, all right."
He turned to the deputies, whose revolvers were still in their hands.
"The Master's carriage, please," he said politely. "To the door. You may accompany us if you please, but in other carriages. I am working for the release of all the Master's slaves, and you among them if you choose. But you can see very easily that there is no hope of the release of The Master without the meeting of my terms."
The Master spoke, softly and mildly and without fear.
"It is my order that the Senor Bell is to be obeyed. I shall return. You need have no fear of my death. My carriage."
A man went stiffly, half-paralyzed with terror, to where chattering scared servants were grouped in the awful fear that came upon the slaves of The Master at any threat to his rule.
But Bell and Paula and Jamison went slowly and cautiously—though they held the whip hand—to the entrance door of the house, and out to the entrance gate. A carriage was already before the door when they reached it, and others were drawing up in a line behind it.
"Get in," said Bell briefly. "Down to the waterfront."