"You!" he said, looking her
straight in the face. He sat down, and scanned the tray, while the cook
stood in terror, not daring to leave the room, but wishing to God this
moment were over. Had he forgotten anything?
"I do not see ze coffee," Pancho said at last.
"I get for you!" the cook screamed in a shrill voice, and rushed for the
kitchen.
"_Pronto_," Lopez said. Then, to Lucia, "Ze bread." She leaned over to get
a piece for him. He watched her carefully. "Your hand is shake. For why?
You 'fraid from me, perhaps?"
She admitted that she was afraid--a little.
"And why?" he inquired.
"Because I've heard that you kill people," she bravely told him.
"Oh, but that isn't so!" Angela broke in, fearful that the mere mention of
killing would bring about a murder then and there. "I'm sure it isn't!"
Nothing must be said to raise the thought in Pancho's mind.
"Why are you so sure?" Lopez demanded.
"It couldn't be! It couldn't be!" Angela declared. "Anyone so romantic as
you, so--" And she tried to look her pleasantest. He must be placated, this
wretched man.
"You are wrong," Lopez informed her, and also the entire room, "I do kill."
Lucia, who had taken a seat near him, now drew back in alarm.
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