My only hope was that the killing would take long enough to
leave time for our unobtrusive exit. At the same time, as a matter of
betting, I would have laid long odds against McGregor.
To my mind it is nearly as difficult to be consistently selfish as to
be absolutely unselfish. I had, at this crisis, every inducement to
concentrate all my efforts on myself, but I could not get Jones out of
my head. It was certainly improbable that Jones would try to resist
the marauding party; but neither the colonel nor his chosen band were
likely to be scrupulous, and it was impossible not to see that Jones
might get a bullet through his head; indeed, I fancied such a step
would rather commend itself to the colonel, as giving a _bona
fide_ look to the affair. Jones had often been a cause of great
inconvenience to me, but I didn't wish to have his death on my
conscience, so I was very glad when I happened to meet him on my way
back from the Golden House, and seized the opportunity of giving him a
friendly hint.
I took him and set him down beside me on a bench in the Piazza.
I was in no way disturbed by the curious glances of three soldiers who
were evidently charged to keep an eye on the bank and my dealings with
it.
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