As he did so, Pell stealthily reached out--Lucia could not see the
movement, for she had gone over to the fireplace--and craftily removed
Gilbert's gun from his hip-pocket. While in the very act of taking this
man's sustenance, he was playing him a foul trick. His heart lost a beat
at the easy success of his plan, the fulfillment of a wish he had been
harboring for the last ten minutes. He thrust the canteen away, stood up
suddenly, and pointed the stolen weapon straight at Jones.
"Now, I've got you just where I want you!" he snarled.
Lucia saw his base trickery. Why had she been so stupid as to believe in
him again? Why had she not warned Gilbert? What fools they had both been!
"Gil!" she cried out; and anguish was hers--a deep, horrible moment of
suffering. It was all up with them. They were as helpless as Pell had been
with the bandit a few hours before. Caught, ensnared, trapped!
"Why, damn you!" Gilbert screamed, and made a futile lunge for Pell. But he
was too late. The revolver was leveled at his head.
"Make a fool out of me, will you, you s----" Pell said, and his eyes
glittered. A snake never looked more venomous. "I've got you now--got you
both, and by God--"
"He means it, Gil!" Lucia cried, and threw herself into her lover's arms.
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