Yet this was lost in her sudden alarm as her companion, looking up, uttered an exclamation, and placed his hand upon his revolver.

With a sinking conviction that the climax had come, Teresa turned her eyes.

From the dim aisles beyond, Low was approaching.

The catastrophe seemed complete.
She had barely time to utter an imploring whisper: "In the name of God, not a word to him." But a change had already come over her companion.
It was no longer a parley with a foolish woman; he had to deal with a man like himself.

As Low's dark face and picturesque figure came nearer, Mr.Curson's proposed method of dealing with him was made audible.
"Ith it a mulatto or a Thircuth, or both ?" he asked, with affected anxiety.
Low's Indian phlegm was impervious to such assault.