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.
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