Bell's eyes glowed coldly.
"Does it occur to you," he asked grimly, "that it's too important a matter for us to have any scruples about? That we can—and will—make you talk?"
"You may kill me," said The Master benignly, "but that is all."
"And," said Bell, still more grimly, "we have only to get back in the plane yonder, and go away...."
The Master beamed at him. Presently he began to laugh softly.
"Hijo mio," he said gently, "let us stop this little byplay. You will take me back in my airplane, and you will land me at Punta Arenas. And then you will fly away. I concede you freedom, but that is all. You cannot leave me here."
"Paula," said Bell coldly, "get in the plane again. Jamison—"
Paula rose doubtfully. Jamison stood up. The Master continued to chuckle amiably.
"You see," he said cherubically, "you happen to be a gentleman, Senor Bell. Every man has some weakness. That is yours. And you will not leave me here to die, because you have killed my nephew, who was the only other man who knew how to prepare my little medicine. And you know, Senor, that all my subjects will wish to die. Those who do, in fact," he added mildly, "will be fortunate. The effect of my little medicine does not make for happiness without its antidote."