"Shall I get you a glass of wine?"
"No."
Rey seemed to have caught a sudden hope. At least, Miss Mallory imagined so; and that he tried to cover it with words.
"Mr. Bedient," he said pleasantly, "I do not wish to under-rate your genius in the least, but I should like to pay a compliment to your remarkable fellow-worker."
"I have several to pay, as well, Señor."
"I should be glad for her to hear," Rey added.
"If you mean me," Miss Mallory called, "I am listening intently."
The Spaniard leaned forward, appearing to cover his eyes with his fingers. Miss Mallory could hardly restrain a scream for Bedient to look out for the pistol, but nothing happened. Señor Rey sat back and began reminiscently:
"I was sailing and garnering in these waters before either of you men, and certainly before any of the women present, were alive. I made Equatoria interesting, and a delightful place to live. I have met in the old days, sometimes in strategy, sometimes in open warfare, the most crafty and daring seamen the world could send to the Caribbean. All, to the last man, I have overmatched in strength and cleverness. A ship has at last changed hands beneath my feet. It is well. I have lived long and am content. Only, I wish to say that it is a bright pleasure to think that no man, however brilliant or daring, outgeneraled me—but a delightful American girl."
"It's a tribute that I shall always remember, Señor," Miss Mallory responded, "and one that comes from a master of his profession."