“Lopez!  Lopez captured!” There were tears in her eyes.

Pell paced the room with new strength.  His eyes were now sinister.

“Fortunately for us, my dear,” he said.  “For now we are certain not to be disturbed while working out a sensible solution of our little problem.”  He had forgotten the pain in his head.  He lighted a cigarette, casually, slowly.  “You will of course sue for divorce,” he went on, blowing a ring to the ceiling and watching it ascend.  “But there’ll be no difficulty about that.  I shall not contest,” he added magnanimously.

She grasped at the straw.  “You won’t?” She almost believed him now.

“You’d win, anyway,” her husband said.  “But there is the question of alimony.”

Gilbert swerved about.  He detested the word.  “Alimony!” he cried.

“An attractive woman never gets the worst of it in court,” Pell coldly stated.  “Suppose we settle that—­right here and now.  It will give you ready money.  And it will save me from having to pay perhaps a greater sum—­later.  That is....”

Gilbert was incensed.  “We don’t want your money!” he cried.  And Lucia treated the suggestion with the scorn it deserved.

Pell looked at them both.  “No?  Well, in that case, I suppose there’s nothing more to be said.”

“And we are free to go?” Lucia cried, unbelieving.

Her husband puffed again.  “Why not?  I know I shan’t stop you.”  Suddenly he dropped his cigarette, leaned heavily against the table, swayed a bit, and put his hand to his head.  The old pain was returning.

“You’re suffering?” Lucia asked, alarmed.  A strange pallor had come over him.

“I regret—­that water—­I gave away so liberally,” Pell said, his voice weak.

“There’s more,” Gilbert cried.  “I’ll get it.”  He went hurriedly to the kitchen.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Lucia asked, sympathy in her tone.  Always with her was the womanly instinct to serve, to help.  Morgan was like a wounded animal to her, and as deserving of attention as any hurt thing.

“No, thank you,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sorry!  I ...”

Gilbert was back with another canteen.  He went close to Pell and put the jug to his lips, standing by his side, leaning over to proffer the cooling water.  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!