The pirate chieftain—or, as we will call him for the present, Count Cadillac—had not the slightest idea of Bessie’s intention until she had succeeded in turning the weapon upon herself, and the muzzle of it was already against her temple.

If the revolver had been an ordinary one, or if the muscles of Bessie Harlan’s fingers had been firmer and stronger, she must have taken her own life then and there, before her companion could have done aught to prevent it. But the weapon was of the double-action pattern; more than that, the action was firm and strong, so that it required a considerable exertion of the muscles of the fingers to work it.

Then again, the position in which she was obliged to hold it strained the muscles of the right hand in such a position that the feat of pulling the trigger sufficiently to raise the hammer past the catch was twice difficult. Double-action revolvers are not the best in the world for the uses of people with suicidal intent.

As has already been said, the muzzle of the weapon was already against her temple, before the count fully realized her intent; but then he leaped forward with a sudden cry. Perhaps his sudden action, together with the cry he uttered, had something to do with disconcerting her; at all events, he was in time.

[149]

It is doubtful, too, if she realized what she was about to do.

A creature of impulses always, the count’s words of love spoken at such a time, and bringing to mind, as they did, that the time was not far distant in the past when she had consented to listen to him, and when she had not repulsed him—when even she had secretly convinced herself that she might some day love this man—filled her with such horror of her present position that death seemed to be the only way of escape.

It is certain that she intended to kill herself. It is certain that she intended to send the bullet through her brain and thus to escape at once and for all time the horror of her present surroundings. It is also certain that the sudden activity of the count prevented her from carrying her impulse to a fatal termination.

It will be remembered that the table was between them; that she stood facing him at one side of it, while he was half-way across the cabin from her, at the opposite side. But his leap toward her was like the spring of a panther, and the cry he uttered was so filled with horror, amazement, terror, and remorse for bringing her to such a pass, that it startled even her, wrapped up as she was in her fatal resolve.

As he leaped forward he threw himself bodily across the table, scattering the books and papers, and the electric drop-light that stood in the center of it, in every direction, and upon every side.

And he managed, somehow, to reach her arm and hand. He managed, somehow, to seize the wrist of the[150] hand which held the weapon—to deflect it, and to knock it from her grasp with such force that it was sent hurling across the room, where it fell, clattering, against the mahogany bulkhead. It was not even discharged.

The hammer, which her tender muscles had been unable to raise, fell again into place without touching the cartridge in the chamber, and Bessie stood for an instant, abashed, before him.

The table was still between them. He remained, leaning upon it with both hands, and with his face thrust forward toward her, speechless with dismay, alarm, and with thanksgiving for his power to prevent the consummation of her terrible act.

And she stood opposite him, a few feet away, white and staring—herself speechless from the terror of the thing which had approached her so closely, and yet had passed her by.

For a moment it was a tableau which neither of them comprehended; and then the count did the only thing he could have done under the circumstances, to help her to regain her composure, and to convince her that she was not in the terrible danger she dreaded from his presence.

He straightened himself back upon his feet, calmly and slowly, until he stood upright before her. Then he folded his arms across his chest, and looked into her eyes silently. Presently he pointed with one finger toward the weapon where it was lying against the bulkhead, and he said slowly:

“Yonder is your weapon, Miss Harlan. Let me suggest that you resume possession of it, in order that you[151] may still have the means about you to protect yourself against a danger which exists only in your imagination.”

She did not move, and after a moment he continued:

“I have assured you that you are safe here—as safe as any honored guest might be anywhere in the world. While we are aboard this vessel together, while you are a passenger upon it, I should like to have free access to this cabin—in short, I should be glad if you will consider it a common meeting-place between us. But yonder”—he pointed toward the portières which divided the cabin from the passageway—“yonder, beyond those curtains, is a portion of the Shadow which you may regard as your personal domain. Beyond that point no human being save yourself shall penetrate, so long as you are my guest.