Maybe it was belated empathy, or maybe it was a little fear bubbling up in the face of Belloq's desperation, but Tuco finally stopped laughing. He was stood there, eyes drawn to spot where the beret had disappeared, his shoulders lowering slowly.

For him, it was a case of nothing lost, nothing gained, he supposed. It was maddening, yes, but he hadn't the same claim to the sword as he did with Carson's gold. He hadn't staked his life on it, or spent the best part of six months tracking it all down. In the end, it felt more like that old, overused adage: If it looks too good to be true, then it probably is.

He scrubbed his hand across the bristles on his chin, both awkward and uncharacteristically silent.