Espinosa’s face paled slightly, and his eyes kindled in anger.
“I am sorry that I cannot allow you to remain alive to see my prophecy come true,” he replied with a cruel shrug. “And before I am found out, as you Americans say, and displaced, I shall have enough money put aside in banks outside of the Philippines to live in ease and luxury for the remainder of my life.
“These thoughts,” he added, “may cheer your last hours. It should be a pleasure to you to know that you haven’t done me as much harm as you supposed.”
Phil glared at his tormentor, a bitter hatred in his eyes. How cleverly had this half-breed played upon the credulity of the Americans! For months this despicable native had ruled over both the warring parties; on one hand controlling the native bands of insurgents, telling them how, when and where to attack their enemy and then by his plausible words and treacherous cunning had exerted sufficient influence over General Wilson and his aides to enable him to so dispose the scattered American troops as to make them impotent, helpless against the insurgent ambushes and attacks. The lad noticed with a certain satisfaction that the native wore his left arm in a sling. Was that then the effect of his shot the night of the meeting of the Katipunan society? How he blamed himself for not having taken a more careful aim; he remembered with disappointment that when he had pulled the trigger of his revolver, his aim had been to the left of Espinosa’s body. Phil’s gaze was not lost on the half-breed. With a snarl he glanced down at his almost helpless arm.
“For this I took Rodriguez’s life with my own hands, although Garcia had been chosen for the deed,” he exclaimed darkly, “and for this I shall force his daughter to become the wife of Manuel Espinosa.”
Phil gasped, a flood of angry blood mounting to his temples.
“It was I who fired the shot,” the lad cried exultantly, “and the next time you won’t get off so easily.”
Espinosa in sullen rage regarded the angry midshipman through his slit-like eyes.
“You?” he cried in unfeigned surprise. “How did you get there?”
“I was there,” Phil replied quickly, a keen satisfaction entering his thoughts at being able to beard the lion in his den, “and afterward exposed you to the general—but,” he asked suddenly, “why did you desert? If you hadn’t we would have had a pleasant little hanging party in the Plaza the next morning.”