As they stepped into the firelight's circle, the bandits saw something that made them freeze. The unnatural, deathly pallor on both the young woman's face and Diavolaccio's. The sight was so strange and solemn that everyone stood up. Everyone except Carlini, who remained seated, calmly eating and drinking.
Diavolaccio walked forward in complete silence and laid Rita at the captain's feet. Then everyone understood the reason for that ghostly pallor. A knife was buried to the hilt in Rita's left breast. Every eye turned to Carlini. The sheath at his belt was empty.
"Ah," the chief said slowly, "now I understand why Carlini stayed behind."
All violent men appreciate a desperate act. Perhaps none of the other bandits would have done the same thing, but they all understood what Carlini had done.
"Now then," Carlini said, rising and approaching the corpse, his hand resting on the butt of one of his pistols, "does anyone dispute my claim to this woman?"
