Dolores, flinging herself down upon Craik Tomlin, seized his face between her hands and raised his head, placing her knee beneath it. She panted like an exhausted doe, yet the fire that leaped from her eyes gave the lie to her attitude of sorrowing humility. Her lips moved feverishly, but she could not or would not speak aloud. Tomlin's eyes were closed in agony, his teeth were clenched tightly upon his under lip; he gave no sign that he knew of her presence. And a sudden fury seized her at his irresponsiveness. She shook his head between her hands savagely.
"Wake! Speak!" she cried hoarsely. "Art indeed dead, at the moment of my triumph?"
Tomlin's eyelids flickered, and his lips strove to speak. One hand went weakly to his face, to grasp her fingers. And into her anxious ear he managed to whisper: "Evil luck fought with me, Dolores. Yet I die content if you care."
"Care!" she echoed, shaking his fingers loose impatiently. "Care? Yes, this I care, bungler: I care because of all three of thee, thou alone wert covetous enough to obey my conditions. With thee alive, there was hope of thy friends' speedy death. With thee dead, which of the others will wipe his fellow from his path for me? Why, think ye, did I fawn on John Pearse? But to arouse in thee the demon of jealousy; why did I smile on Venner, and call him my Rupert? To steel thy arm against him. And for what?"
She suddenly laid his head down on the floor, leaned over him with her lips almost brushing his cheek, and whispered fiercely: "Speak! Canst live?"
Tomlin's face lost some of its pain. The thin lips straightened into the semblance of a faint smile. His glazing eyes opened slightly.
"I am done for," he whispered. "Dolores, kiss me again. I die for you."
The beautiful fury sprang to her feet, spurning him. She glared down at his chalky face in utter scorn.
"Kiss thee? Thou die for me? Pah! I kiss no carrion. A half-hundred men have died for me this day, I hope. I kiss him who lives for me and conquers, not the weakling who dies!"
Without deigning another glance at her victim, she turned away and went to meet Milo. He now entered with his slaves.
"Where are the two strangers?" she demanded harshly.
Milo returned her stare with a look of simple surprise. He had seen nothing of them, and had thought of them being yet with his mistress.
"I saw them not, Sultana," he replied.
"Saw them not, great clod!" she blazed at him, clenching her hands in rage. "Are they here, then?"