What in God's name was
this bandit going to do? What was his game?
"Wall Street? 'Aven't you never done anything honest? You go to ze war,
per'aps, like my frand, Senor Jones?"
"I was in Washington," Pell winced. "A dollar-a-year man."
"You use your money, your power, to escape ze war? So! You are not only a
skindler, but a coward. While my frand fight, you stay to home, to torture
ze woman, H'm! I see it all now. Nice boy, you!"
Pell could scarcely articulate now, but he managed to get out, "By God,
I've had enough of this--just about enough!"
Lopez looked at him coldly, a glint in his eye that should have warned
Pell. "Do not worry," he said. "You are about through." He turned to his
friend, Gilbert. "And now, my frand, you shall go." Young Jones did not
understand him.
"Go?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
Lopez looked at him calmly, "I 'ave much business to do. You shall not
'ear, nor see, because for you is love, romance! Not business, which are
soddid. Leave all zat for me, which am a business man." He smiled upon
Lucia. "As I said, life 'as been unkind to you, senora. Ze silly law ... ze
foolish custom ... 'ave been around your 'eart, around your soul, like
chains.
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