Tarzan and the Golden Lion. Edgar Rice Burroughs

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СКАЧАТЬ of which had been perfected by her and her four confederates. So, therefore, knowing that he was unscrupulous, she was aware that every precaution must be taken to prevent him taking advantage of the knowledge of their plan that he must one day have in detail, the key to which she, up to the present moment, had kept entirely to herself, not even confiding it to any one of her four other confederates.

      They sat for a moment in silence, toying with the empty glasses from which they had been drinking. Presently she looked up to find his gaze fixed upon her and an expression in his eyes that even a less sophisticated woman than Flora Hawkes might readily have interpreted.

      “You can make me do anything you want, Flora,” he said, “for when I am with you I forget the gold, and think only of that other reward which you continually deny me, but which one day I shall win.”

      “Love and business do not mix well,” replied the girl. “Wait until you have succeeded in this work, Esteban, and then we may talk of love.”

      “You do not love me,” he whispered, hoarsely. “I know—I have seen—that each of the others loves you. That is why I could hate them. And if I thought that you loved one of them, I could cut his heart out. Sometimes I have thought that you did—first one of them and then another. You are too familiar with them, Flora. I have seen John Peebles squeeze your hand when he thought no one was looking, and when you dance with Dick Throck he holds you too close and you dance cheek to cheek. I tell you I do not like it, Flora, and one of these days I shall forget all about the gold and think only of you, and then something will happen and there will not be so many to divide the ingots that I shall bring back from Africa. And Bluber and Kraski are almost as bad; perhaps Kraski is the worst of all, for he is a good-looking devil and I do not like the way in which you cast sheep’s eyes at him.”

      The fire of growing anger was leaping to the girl’s eyes. With an angry gesture she silenced him.

      “What business is it of yours, Señor Miranda, who I choose for my friends, or how I treat them or how they treat me? I will have you understand that I have known these men for years, while I have known you for but a few weeks, and if any has a right to dictate my behavior, which, thank God, none has, it would be one of them rather than you.”

      His eyes blazed angrily.

      “It is as I thought!” he cried. “You love one of them.” He half rose from the table and leaned across it toward her, menacingly. “Just let me find out which one it is and I will cut him into pieces!”

      He ran his fingers through his long, black hair until it stood up on end like the mane of an angry lion. His eyes were blazing with a light that sent a chill of dread through the girl’s heart. He appeared a man temporarily bereft of reason—if he were not a maniac he most certainly looked one, and the girl was afraid and realized that she must placate him.

      “Come, come, Esteban,” she whispered softly, “there is no need for working yourself into a towering rage over nothing. I have not said that I loved one of these, nor have I said that I do not love you, but I am not used to being wooed in such fashion. Perhaps your Spanish señoritas like it, but I am an English girl and if you love me treat me as an English lover would treat me.”

      “You have not said that you loved one of these others—no, but on the other hand you have not said that you do not love one of them—tell me, Flora, which one of them is it that you love?”

      His eyes were still blazing, and his great frame trembling with suppressed passion.

      “I do not love any of them, Esteban,” she replied, “nor, as yet, do I love you. But I could, Esteban, that much I will tell you. I could love you, Esteban, as I could never love another, but I shall not permit myself to do so until after you have returned and we are free to live where and how we like. Then, maybe—but, even so, I do not promise.”

      “You had better promise,” he said, sullenly, though evidently somewhat mollified. “You had better promise, Flora, for I care nothing for the gold if I may not have you also.”

      “Hush,” she cautioned, “here they come now, and it is about time; they are fully a half-hour late.”

      The man turned his eyes in the direction of her gaze, and the two sat watching the approach of four men who had just entered the chop-house. Two of them were evidently Englishmen—big, meaty fellows of the middle class, who looked what they really were, former pugilists; the third, Adolph Bluber, was a short, fat German, with a round, red face and a bull neck; the other, the youngest of the four, was by far the best looking. His smooth face, clear complexion, and large dark eyes might of themselves have proven sufficient grounds for Miranda’s jealousy, but supplementing these were a mop of wavy, brown hair, the figure of a Greek god and the grace of a Russian dancer, which, in truth, was what Carl Kraski was when he chose to be other than a rogue.

      The girl greeted the four pleasantly, while the Spaniard vouchsafed them but a single, surly nod, as they found chairs and seated themselves at the table.

      “Hale!” cried Peebles, pounding the table to attract the attention of a waiter, “let us ’ave hale.”

      The suggestion met with unanimous approval, and as they waited for their drink they spoke casually of unimportant things; the heat, the circumstance that had delayed them, the trivial occurrences since they had last met; throughout which Esteban sat in sullen silence, but after the waiter had returned and they drank to Flora, with which ceremony it had long been their custom to signalize each gathering, they got down to business.

      “Now,” cried Peebles, pounding the table with his meaty fist, “ ’ere we are, and that’s that! We ’ave everything, Flora—the plans, the money, Señor Miranda—and are jolly well ready, old dear, for your part of it.”

      “How much money have you?” asked Flora. “It is going to take a lot of money, and there is no use starting unless you have plenty to carry on with.”

      Peebles turned to Bluber. “There,” he said, pointing a pudgy finger at him, “is the bloomin’ treasurer. ’E can tell you ’ow much we ’ave, the fat rascal of a Dutchman.”

      Bluber smiled an oily smile and rubbed his fat palms together. “Vell,” he said, “how much you t’ink, Miss Flora, ve should have?”

      “Not less than two thousand pounds to be on the safe side,” she replied quickly.

      “Oi! Oi!” exclaimed Bluber. “But dot is a lot of money—two t’ousand pounds. Oi! Oi!”

      The girl made a gesture of disgust. “I told you in the first place that I wouldn’t have anything to do with a bunch of cheap screws, and that until you had enough money to carry the thing out properly I would not give you the maps and directions, without which you cannot hope to reach the vaults, where there is stored enough gold to buy this whole, tight, little island if half that what I have heard them say about it is true. You can go along and spend your own money, but you’ve got to show me that you have at least two thousand pounds to spend before I give up the information that will make you the richest men in the world.”

      “The blighter’s got the money,” growled Throck. “Blime if I know what he’s beefin’ about.”

      “He can’t help it,” growled the Russian, “it’s a racial characteristic; Bluber would try to jew down the marriage license clerk if he were going to get married.”

      “Oh, vell,” sighed Bluber, “for vy should we spend more money than is СКАЧАТЬ