“That you have me in your power remains to be demonstrated.”

“Are we not alone here, you fool?”

“Yes, very much alone.”

“And you helpless?”

“Apparently.”

“If I wish, Nick Carter, I can kill you.”

“Then pray don’t wish it,” said Nick.  “I am still too young to be heartlessly slain, even by so beautiful and accomplished a woman.”

“Caramba! you mock me!” cried Cervera, darting toward him with eyes ablaze and her lithe figure quivering with passion.  “You mock me!—­you shall repent it!  Perdition! you shall repent it!”

“Is that so?”

“You shall repent it, I say!”

“In this world, or in the next?” inquired Nick, bent upon prolonging the scene as much as possible, with a hope that Chick might suddenly turn up.

Cervera did not answer him immediately.  She wheeled again and darted to the door, once more to make sure that she had secured its bolts.

She was clad in the black dress in which she had escaped from Nick the previous night, the somber hue of which was relieved only by occasional flashes of her dainty white lace underskirts, as she swept quickly from place to place, with her lithe figure crouching at times, and her every movement as swift and impulsive as that of a startled leopard.

As he sat watching her, Nick was reminded of her matchless work upon the stage, thrilling men and women alike with her wild grace and the fiery passion of her indescribable dances.

She returned to confront him after a moment, crouching before him, with her glowing eyes fixed on his.

“In the next world—­not in this!” she now replied, with a voice that cut the air like the snap of a whip.  “You’d have brief time for repentance in this.”

“So you’ve decided to do the job, have you?” Nick coolly demanded.

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Here is where we even up accounts.”

“Even them up, eh?”

“You heard what I said.”

“But I wasn’t aware that I have so very much the best of you.”

“You have.”

“How so?”

“Caramba! you know too much!”

“Ah! you mean about that girl.”

“Yes.”

“I see,” nodded Nick, secretly working in vain to loose the ropes confining his arms.  “Well, senora, as a matter of fact, I am rather likely to make things unpleasant for you one of these days.”

“It will be this day, or never.  You’ll not live to see another.”

“Possibly not.”

“Caramba! do you doubt it?”

She darted nearer to him, with her hand tearing open the waist of her dress, and then the gleam of a poniard met Nick’s gaze.  She swept it before his eyes with a wild gesture, and gave vent to a mocking laugh.

“Do you doubt that I can slay you?”

“Not at all,” answered Nick.  “It’s very evident.”