Сердца трех / Hearts of Three

The last moment, ere he departed, was abrupt. With a sigh so quickly suppressed that Leoncia wondered whether or not she had imagined it, he tore himself away. She gazed after his retreating form down the driveway until it was out of sight, then stared at the ring on her finger with a vaguely troubled expression.

From the beach, Francis signaled the Angelique, riding at anchor, to send a boat ashore for him. But before it had been swung into the water, half a dozen horsemen, revolver belted, rifles across their pommels, rode down the beach upon him at a gallop.

Two men led. The following four were hang-dog half-castes. Of the two leaders, Francis recognized Torres. Every rifle came to rest on Francis, and he could not but obey the order snarled at him by the unknown leader to throw up his hands. And Francis opined aloud:

�To think of it! Once, only the other day or was it a million years ago? I thought auction bridge, at a dollar a point, was some excitement. Now, sirs, you on your horses, with your weapons threatening the violent introduction of foreign substances into my poor body, tell me what is doing now.

Don’t I ever get off this beach without gunpowder complications? Is it my ears, or merely my mustache, you want?’

�We want you,’ answered the stranger leader, whose mustache bristled as magnetically as his crooked black eyes.

�And in the name of original sin and of all lovely lizards, who might you be?’

�He is the honorable Señor Mariano Vercara e Hijos, Jefe Politico of San Antonio,’ Torres replied.

�Good night,’ Francis laughed, remembering the man’s description as given to him by Henry. �I suppose you think I’ve broken some harbor rule or sanitary regulation by anchoring here. But you must settle such things with my captain, Captain Trefethen, a very estimable gentleman. I am only the charterer of the schooner just a passenger. You will find Captain Trefethen right up in maritime law and custom.’

�You are wanted for the murder of Alfaro Solano,’ was Torres’ answer.

�You didn’t fool me, Henry Morgan, with your talk up at the hacienda that you were someone else. I know that someone else. His name is Francis Morgan, and I do not hesitate to add that he is not a murderer, but a gentleman.’

�Ye gods and little fishes!’ Francis exclaimed. �And yet you shook hands with me, Señor Torres.’

�I was fooled,’ Torres admitted sadly. �But only for a moment.