Bement
gave a start of terror, and involuntarily turned to take the bunch of
keys down from the nail. But by the time he had turned, the keys were
no longer there.
It had been easy to see from the first, that Mrs. Bement was made of
quite different stuff from her husband. As she stood by his side
behind the bar, although she was tremulous with excitement, the look
with which she had faced the crowd was rather vixenish than
frightened. There was a vicious sparkle in her eyes, and the color of
her cheeks was concentrated in two small spots, one under each cheek
bone. Just as her husband, succumbing to the inevitable, was turning
to take the keys from their nail and deliver them over, she quietly
reached behind him, and snatched them. Then, with a deft motion
opening the top of her gown a little, she dropped them into her bosom,
and looked at Perez with a defiant expression, as much as to say, "Now
I should like to see you get them."
There was no doubt about the little shrew being thoroughly game, and
yet her act was less striking as evidence of her bravery, than as
testifying her confidence in the chivalry of the rough men before her.
And, indeed, it was comical to see the dumbfoundered and chop-fallen
expression on their flushed and excited faces, as they took in the
meaning of this piece of strategy.
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