"What do you know?" he demanded in a deadly quietness. "You cannot leave this place. You are aware of that. The people here--guests and servants--are my slaves, the slaves of The Master. You cannot leave this place except also as my slave. I will have you bound and given _yagué_ so that you cannot fail to tell me anything that I wish to know. I will have you tortured so that you will gladly say anything that I wish, in return for death. I will--" "You will," said Bell dryly, "drop dead with seven bullets in your body if you give a signal for anyone to attack me." * * * * * Ribiera stared at him as his hand rested negligently in his coat pocket. And then, quite suddenly Ribiera began to chuckle. His rage vanished. He laughed, a monstrous, gross, cackling laughter. "You have been my guest for two days," he gasped, slapping his fat knees, "and you have not noticed that your pistol his been tampered with! Senhor Bell! Senhor Bell! My uncle will be disappointed in you!" It seemed to impress him as a victory that Bell had been depending upon an utterly futile threat for safety. It restored his good humor marvelously. "It does not matter," he said jovially. "Presently you will tell me all that I wish to know. More, perhaps. My uncle is pleased with you. You recall your little talk with the wireless operator on the _Almirante Gomez_? You tried to learn things from him, Senhor. He reported it. Of course. All our slaves report. He sent his report to my uncle, The Master, and I did not have it until to-day. I will admit that you deceived me. I knew you had talked with Ortiz, who was a fool. I thought that in his despair he might have spoken. I gave you _yagué_, as I thought, and informed my uncle that you knew nothing. And he is very much pleased with you. It was clever to deceive me about the _yagué_. My uncle has high praise for you. He has told me that he desires your services." Bell inhaled again. There was no question but that Ribiera was totally unafraid of the threat he had made. His gun must have been tampered with, the firing-pin filed off perhaps. So Bell said placidly: "Well? He desires my services?" * * * * * Ribiera chuckled, in his gross and horrible good humor. "He will have them. Senhor. He will have them. When you observe your hands writhing at the ends of your wrists, you will enter his service, through me. Of course. And he will reward you richly. Money, much money, such as I have. And slaves--such as I have. The Senhora...." Ribiera looked at the terrified girl standing thirty or forty feet away. He chuckled again.