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Updated: June 3, 2025
Would Montano start killing everyone who tried to get the secret of the drive from him? The Lhari had the star-drive; maybe it belonged to them, maybe not. Maybe humans had a right to have it, too. But this wasn't the right way. Maybe they didn't deserve it. He turned to look at Montano. The man was leaning back, whistling softly through his teeth.
He looked at his orange badge and stepped inside, heart pounding so loudly he thought it was an external sound it was an external sound, a step. "Don't move one inch," said a voice in Universal, and Bart froze, trembling. He looked cautiously round. Montano stood there, spacesuited, his head bare, dark contact lenses blurring his eyes.
Bart looked helplessly around at the men. Montano said, almost tenderly, "You couldn't side with the Lhari against men, could you? Could a son of Rupert Steele do that?" Bart shut his eyes, and something seemed to snap within him. His father had died for this. He might not understand Montano's reasons, but he had to believe that Montano had them.
Who is the King of Thieves?" "A great man," replied Muscari, "worthy to rank with your own Robin Hood, signorina. Montano, the King of Thieves, was first heard of in the mountains some ten years ago, when people said brigands were extinct. But his wild authority spread with the swiftness of a silent revolution.
After this Victoria was elected President, during all of whose administration the country was distracted with civil wars and conspiracies, as is evidenced by the rebellion and banishment of Montano, Bravo, and many others. Victoria's term having expired, Pedraza was constitutionally elected, but was dispossessed by violence, and Guerero put in his stead.
Though withheld so long from the public, Luis de Leon's poems, while still in manuscript, were repeatedly imitated especially by Augustinians. To my way of thinking, he is most nearly approached by his friend Arias Montano. But it should be said that this is not the general verdict. That goes decisively in favour of Miguel Sanchez, el Divino.
"There may be," said Father Brown agnostically. "What do you mean?" asked the other sharply. "I mean I am puzzled," replied the priest. "I am puzzled about Ezza or Montano, or whatever his name is. He seems to me much more inexplicable as a brigand even than he was as a courier." "But in what way?" persisted his companion. "Santa Maria! I should have thought the brigand was plain enough."
But Bart had pressed the charge of his, and Montano slumped over without a cry. He looked so limp that Bart gasped. Was he dead? Hastily he fumbled the lax hand for a pulse. After a long, endless moment he saw Montano's chest twitch and knew the man was breathing. Well, Montano would be safe here in the bunker. Hastily, Bart looked at his timepiece.
This one just looked dangerous. "But sit down," Montano said with a wave of his hand, "make yourself comfortable." Hedrick relieved Bart of his cloak; Raynor Two put a cup of some steaming drink in his hand, passed him a tray of small hot fried things that tasted crisp and delicious. Bart relaxed, answering questions. How old? Only seventeen?
He reached his own cabin and threw himself down in his bunk, torn in two. Ringg was his friend! Ringg liked him! And if he did what Montano wanted, Ringg would die. Ringg had followed him, and was standing in the cabin door, watching him in surprise. "Bartol, is something the matter? Is there anything I can do? Have you had more bad news?" Bart's torn nerves snapped.
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