it
was an inch or two ajar, so that I could see what was going on outside.
"They're gone," I said again, still keeping up the pretence of being on
her side. As I said it, I glanced back to fix her features on my memory.
She had a pale, resolute face with fierce eyes, which seemed fierce from
pain, not from any cruelty of nature. It was a pleasant face, as far as
one could judge of a face made up to resemble a dirty pedlar's face.

Seeing my look, she seemed to watch me curiously, raising herself up,
till she stood unsteadily by the wall. "When did you come in?" she said,
meaning, I suppose, when did I join the gang.

"Last week," I answered, swinging the door a little further open.
Footsteps were coming rapidly along the road. I heard excited voices, I
made sure that it was the search party going back to the schooner.

"Digame, muchacho," she said in Spanish. It must have been some sort of
pass-word among them. Seeing by my face that I did not understand she
repeated the words softly. Then at that very instant she was on me like
a tigress with a knife. I slipped to one side instinctively. I suppose
I half saw her as the knife went home. She grabbed at the pocket-book,
which I swung away from her hand. The knife went deep into the door,
with a drive which must have jarred her to the shoulder. "Give it me,"
she gasped, snatching at me like a fury. I dodged to one side, up the
court, horribly scared. She followed, raving like a mad thing, quite
ghastly white under her paint, wholly forgetful that she was acting a
man's part. When once we were dodging I grew calmer. I led her to the
end of the court, then ducked. She charged in, blindly, against the
wall, while I raced to the door, very pleased with my success. I did not
hear her follow me, so, when I got to the door, I looked back. Just at
that instant, there came a smart report. The creature had fired at me
with a pistol; the bullet sent a dozen chips of brick into my face. I
went through the door just as the shot from the second barrel thudded
into the lintel. Going through hurriedly I ran into Mr. Jermyn, as he
came round the corner with the captain. "I've got it," I said. "Look
out. She's in there."

"Who?" they said. "The thief? A woman?" They did not stay, but thrust
through the door.

Mr. Jermyn dragged me through with them. "You say you've got it,
Martin?"

"Yes," I answered, handing him the book. "Here it is."

"That's a mercy," he said. "Now then, where's