The threat elicits an answer.

"You may kill me, if you wish, Master Edward. By rights, my life
belongs to ye. But, if you take it, I'll have the satisfaction o'
knowin', I've done the best I could to prove my gratefulness for your
once savin' it."

Long before he has finished his strange speech, the impending stroke is
stayed, and the raised blade dropped point downward. For, on the hand
which grasps it, a gentler one is laid, a soft voice saying:--

"Hold, Eduardo! _Dios de mi alma_! What would you do? You know not.
This brave man--to him I owe my life--I and Inez."

"Yes," adds Inez, advancing, "more than life. 'Tis he who protected
us."

Crozier stands trembling, the sword almost shaken from his grasp. And
while sheathing it, he is told how near he has been to doing that which
would ever after have made him miserable.

He feels like one withheld from murder--almost parricide. For to have
killed Harry Blew, would have been like killing his own father.

The exciting episode is almost instantly succeeded by another, even more
stirring, and longer sustained. While Carmen is proceeding to explain
her interference on behalf of Blew, she is interrupted by cries coming
up from the beach. Not meaningless shouts, but words of ominous import.

"Ahoy, there! help! help!"

Coupled with them, Crozier hears his own name, then the "Help, help!"
reiterated; recognising the voice of the man left in charge of the
boat--Grummet.

Without hesitating an instant, he springs off toward the strand,
Cadwallader and the gold-diggers following; two staying to keep guard
over those of the robbers who have surrendered.

On clearing the rocky ledge, they see what is causing the coxswain to
sing out in such terrified accents. Grummet is in the boat, but upon
his feet, with a boat-hook in his hands, which he brandishes in a
threatening manner, shouting all the while. Four men are making towards
him fast as their legs can carry them. They are coming along the beach
from the right side of the cove.

At a glance the English officers recognise two of them--De Lara and
Calderon--sooner from their not meeting them there unexpectedly. For
aware that they are on the isle, they were about to go in quest of those
gentlemen, after settling other affairs.

No need to search for them now. There they are, with their
confederates, rushing direct for the boat--already within pistol-shot of
it.

Nor can there be any doubt about the