“Would you faint when you had killed him?”
Her manner instantly changed. She slightly shrugged her shoulders and answered, “A little thing has made me faint. At Acapulco I slept at a friend’s house. I awoke, and by the moonlight saw a mouse upon my bed, after which I remember no more. But nothing heroic, nothing exalted in horror, would make me faint, I think. I could look upon a man slain by me for my liberty or for my honor without swooning.” This was, in effect, her answer to my question.
“Have you ever killed a man?” said I.
“No,” she answered hotly; “but when he is ready for me I shall be ready for him;” and, unbuttoning the breast of her coat, she thrust her hand into the pocket of her gown and pulled out a poniard or stiletto. It was a blue, gleaming blade, about seven or eight inches long, sheathed in bright metal, with a little ivory hilt that sparkled with some sort of embellishment of gem or ore. In all the time we had been associated she had never once given me to know that she went armed; but I afterward discovered she was a young woman who knew how to keep a secret.
“Hide that thing!” I cried with a glance at the skylight.
She pocketed it, giving me a fiery nod. “Never,” said she, “have you asked me whether I was afraid to be alone with Jorge and Antonio on the island. Vaya! Do your English ladies secrete knives about them? It is a wise custom. But you wish to find out if I am to be trusted, if I can kill a man for my liberty or for my honor. Try me,” she cried, snapping her fingers as she waved her hand close to my face.
“I have a scheme,” said I, “for getting away with the treasure and the brig and you.”
“The treasure first,” she exclaimed, smiling till her face looked to be lighted up with her white teeth. “You will have to be quick. Is not to-morrow the day of your Amsterdam Island?”
“Ask the wind that question,” I answered.
“What is your scheme?”