"Sorry, but I promised to sing to the crew in the fo'c'sle—and I always keep my promises," responded Don Carlos, and flashed a smiling glance at Myra as he went out.

He became as popular with the crew as with his fellow-guests during the days that followed, and seemed to enjoy himself hugely, a fact which somehow piqued Myra, who felt he had been, and was still, making mock of her. She was forced to the conclusion that his passionate outburst had been merely a clever piece of acting, for he made no further attempt to make love to her during the cruise, and at times seemed to shun her.

* * *

"Now that we are in Spain, dear people, you must permit me to try to repay you in some small measure for the wonderful hospitality extended to me in England," he said to Tony and his guests, when at last they disembarked at Cadiz. "You are my guests from now onward."

That evening he entertained the whole party royally at the premier hotel of the city, and next morning they found a fleet of luxurious Hispano cars waiting to convey them through some of the most picturesque parts of Spain to El Castillo de Ruiz, his ancestral home, situated in a fertile valley amid the heights of the Sierra Morena.

It was a mediaeval-looking place, part of which had been built by the Moors, and used as a fortress.

"It is still, to some extent, a fortress," Don Carlos had told his guests in advance, "for always I have to be on the alert lest that rascal El Diablo Cojuelo should raid the place again, and I employ an armed guard. Let me warn you, dear people, that if El Diablo learns I am entertaining a party of wealthy English people he may attempt another raid."

The others had laughed, assuming that he was jesting. Most of them had decided that Don Carlos had "invented" El Diablo Cojuelo and his brigand gang, with the object of adding a spice of adventure to their visit.

El Castillo de Ruiz was a place of surprises. It looked massive and strong enough to resist an artillery siege, let alone the attack of a few bandits, and its outward appearance immediately gave the impression that a guest would have to expect to endure at least some of the discomforts of the Middle Ages.

Several of the party exchanged glances of dismay as they alighted from their cars in the great cobbled courtyard or patio, to find themselves stared at by a motley crew of men, women and children, and to see pigs, dogs, asses and fowls wandering about.

"Looks as if we'll have to rough it!" whispered Tony to Myra. "I didn't expect this sort of thing—what?"

Myra made a moue, but did not answer. She was wondering if Don Carlos's invitation had been by way of an elaborate practical joke, wondering if he intended to subject her to intense discomfort under the guise of hospitality, or if he had some surprise in store.

The first surprise came when she followed Don Carlos into the great hall of the castle to find a retinue of servants in livery, headed by a gorgeously-attired major-domo carrying a silver wand of office, waiting to greet their master and his guests. The hall itself was panelled with polished Spanish mahogany, black with age, and softly illuminated by cunningly-concealed electric lights around the painted roof. There were beautiful Persian and Moorish rugs on the floor, and here and there along the walls there hung paintings by Old Masters between stands of ancient armour.

"Magnificent!" cried Myra in her impulsive way, after a gasp of amazement. "Magnificent! This is the sort of hall one can imagine Velasquez delighting to paint, the fit setting and background for a Spanish Grandee in all his glory."

"I thank you, senorita," said Don Carlos, with a low bow. "El Castillo de Ruiz is but a poor background for the most beautiful of women, but you honour it by your presence, and all it contains is yours and at your service. I give you welcome!"

He gave quick orders to the major-domo, who in turn issued orders to the small army of servants—men in livery and comely maids in neat black dresses with perky caps and wisps of aprons—to escort the guests to their various apartments.

The magnificence of the hall might have prepared Myra for something equally luxurious in other parts of the castle, yet she gasped again in astonishment when she found herself ushered into a bedroom beautifully decorated in dove grey and rose pink, a room in which everything harmonised delightfully. The small casement window, set in a wall three or four feet thick, admitted little light, but that fault was remedied by the fact that the room, like the great hall below, was softly lighted by electricity.

"The senorita would like a bath?" inquired the trim maid in English, opening another door, to reveal a beautifully-appointed little bathroom.

"Why, this is wonderful!" exclaimed Myra, with an involuntary laugh. "I never expected such luxuries in such a grim-looking, old-world place. Tell me, are all the rooms like this?"

"This, senorita, is the most beautiful of all, but all the guests' rooms are lovely," the maid answered. "The master himself designed and planned them all. He is wonderful."

"He certainly is, and I must congratulate him," said Myra. "Is it true, by the way, that there is a daring brigand lurking about in the mountains around here?"

"You mean El Diablo Cojuelo, senorita?" the maid responded, and instinctively crossed herself. "He has not been seen for months, but his very name still terrifies. He is daring beyond belief, senorita, and no woman is safe from him. The saints forbid that El Diablo Cojuelo should come back while you are here!"

Myra had mentally discounted Don Carlos's tales about the bandit, just as she had discounted his passionate avowals of love, and she began to feel that she had been doing him an injustice—at least as far as El Diablo Cojuelo was concerned.

"Well, he promised me romance, and he certainly seems to have provided the right setting," she reflected, as she leisurely bathed and changed. "A sort of Aladdin's palace among the hills of Spain, but fitted up in a way more wonderful than any genii could have contrived. Pigs and fowls and people who look like barbarians outside; all the luxuries of civilisation inside, including an English-speaking maid. And a real live daring brigand apparently lurking about in the mountains. I feel that anything might happen at any minute. This is more like a romantic novel than real life."

Myra went down to the great hall to find the rest of the guests as enthusiastic as herself about the appointments of the castle.

"You should see my room, my dear," exclaimed Lady Fermanagh. "It is an exquisite harmony in primrose and pale green that gives one the impression of sunlight and Spring."

"Mine is decorated in Japanese style," chimed in Tony. "There are some priceless lacquers on the walls, some exquisite old Japanese prints, and some of the fittings of the dressing-table are of old jade. Actually, I believe Don Carlos must have had the place specially fitted up for me, knowing how keen I am on Japanese things."

Congratulations were showered on Don Carlos, who shrugged his shoulders and smilingly tried to make light of the whole matter.

"One must have comforts even in the wilds," he said. "I had the whole place modernised inside as far as possible, without altering its grim exterior, and it amused me to plan the furnishings and colour schemes to suit the tastes of the guests I might be likely to have the honour of entertaining."

A gong sounded, and the magnificent major-domo appeared to announce that dinner was served, and to lead the guests to the dining-table, the very sight of which evoked rapturous expressions of admiration.

The table was of highly-polished black mahogany, and instead of a fillet of lace there was a slab of pure crystal at every place set for a guest. All the appointments of the table were of crystal and silver, and in its centre there was a great crystal bowl filled with Spring flowers. The effect was strikingly artistic and wholly delightful. The overhead lights reflected the table appointments and the flowers in the surface of the table itself, much in the way that sunlight and shadow reflect the surrounding trees in a dark pool.

"Don Carlos, you are an artist!" exclaimed Myra, who loved beauty. "Your castle is full of surprises."

"And who knows, dear lady, that I may not have still more surprises in store for you," responded Don Carlos, with a cryptic smile. "Remember that I always keep my promises."



CHAPTER XI

After what they had seen, it came as no great surprise to the guests of Don Carlos to find themselves served with a dinner which would have done credit to the Ritz or the Savoy, and with rare wines of the choicest vintages.

"Would you care to dance after dinner, or merely to listen to a wireless programme?" their host inquired during the meal. "Concealed in the big antique cabinet in the hall there is a powerful wireless set with which I can pick up any European station, and possibly you noticed that the floor of the hall is really a spring dance-floor, stained to make it seem as ancient as the panelling."

"Our host is a magician!" cried Lady Fermanagh.

"You certainly seem to be something of a magician, Don Carlos, and your castle is something like Aladdin's cave," Myra remarked to her host as she was dancing with him later in the evening in the great hall.

"Myra, darling, have I found the magic to make your heart respond to the call of love?" asked Don Carlos in a low voice. "My castle lacks nothing save a mistress, and all my heart is craving for you, its ideal mate. I love you, love you, love you, mia cara, with all the strength and passion of my being. Confess that you love me, darling, and say you will be mine."

Myra found herself compelled to look into his glittering dark eyes, felt as if she were being hypnotised, and it was only by an effort of will that she broke the spell he seemed to be casting on her.

"It isn't fair to take advantage of your position as host to make love to me again," she protested, annoyed to find her heart throbbing tumultuously and her cheeks burning. "You are quite a wonderful person, but I do not intend to give you the opportunity to justify your boasts."

"Who knows but what I may make the opportunity, Myra, and take you in spite of yourself?" Don Carlos responded. "Here I am a king, and none dares dispute my authority, save El Diablo Cojuelo."

"If you persist in talking like that, I shall not feel safe in your house," said Myra. "That sounded like a veiled threat, Don Carlos, and you are not playing the game."

"There are no set rules to the game of love, dear lady, and I am playing to win," retorted Don Carlos, scarcely above a whisper. "Listen for your lover at midnight."

At heart Myra was a little scared, although her pride would not permit her to acknowledge the fact. She remembered how she had been awakened at dead of night at Auchinleven, with the impression strong upon her that someone had touched her, and had found Don Carlos's note on her pillow. She remembered his threats or promises to take her in spite of everything...

Most of the guests were tired after their long journey, and the party broke up about eleven o'clock. Myra went to her own grey and rose bedroom, declined the services of the waiting maid and carefully bolted the door after bidding the girl good-night.

"What did he mean by telling me to listen for my lover at midnight?" she wondered. "What am I scared about? He surely wouldn't be so dastardly as to force his way into my room... Oh, I wish I hadn't come!"

Myra was tired, yet she was reluctant to undress and go to bed, flung herself down in a chair by the fire, and lit a cigarette. Presently the room seemed to her oppressively hot and she rose and opened the casement. As she did so she saw lights moving about in the dark courtyard below, and again she felt unreasoningly apprehensive until common sense told her the lights were probably lanterns carried by outdoor servants attending to their duties.

At last she heard a clock in one of the corridors strike twelve, and as the last stroke died away a mellow voice, which she recognised as that of Don Carlos, rang out in song in the courtyard beneath her window. He sang in Spanish, accompanying himself on a guitar, and although Myra could understand but few of the words she knew he was singing a passionate love song, serenading her, and she was conscious of a heart thrill.

She rose and moved involuntarily towards the open window, where she stood listening, the prey of mingled emotions. It did not occur to her for some minutes that her figure would be silhouetted against the light, and when the thought did flash across her mind she moved back quickly and switched off the lights, but crept back again to the casement to listen again to the thrilling song until the last notes died away.

"Adios, mia cara!" said the voice below, and there was silence.

Strangely stirred, Myra undressed in the dark and crept into bed, but, tired though she was, it was a long time before she could compose herself to sleep.

"Am I falling in love with him?" she asked herself, and did not answer her own question.

She was inclined to laugh at herself next morning, and to chide herself for being sentimental, and the opportunity to administer another reproof speedily presented itself.

"Did you hear someone singing a serenade in the courtyard last night, Myra, after we went to bed?" one of the guests inquired in Don Carlos's hearing.

"Yes, I thought of throwing him a few coppers in the hope he would stop and let me get to sleep," drawled Myra, and had the satisfaction of seeing Don Carlos's lips tighten and his black brows draw together in a frown.

"If you are prepared to run the risk of being waylaid by El Diablo Cojuelo, I suggest that you go riding and allow me to show you the neighbourhood," Don Carlos said. "I have half a dozen good horses in my stables."

Myra, Tony, and several others who were keen on horse exercise welcomed the proposal with enthusiasm, and went to change into riding kit. Their ride was quite uneventful. They saw some fine mountain scenery, but no sign of any brigands. They did, however, meet a squad of mounted carabineros, who saluted them respectfully, and with the leader of whom Don Carlos paused to chat.

"You will be relieved to learn that the officer reports that everything seems quiet, and he has no news of El Diablo Cojuelo having been seen in the neighbourhood for many weeks," he reported when he rejoined his guests. "But I doubt if he has taken fright, as the Captain suggests. He isn't easily scared."

He made no attempt to make love to Myra that day, but often she caught him looking at her with an expression that baffled her and made her feel vaguely uneasy. He looked, somehow, like a schoolboy with a sphinx-like expression, planning mischief and inwardly enjoying some private joke.

"He is quite the most exasperating man I have ever met—and the most interesting," Myra reflected, as she dressed for dinner that evening. "I wonder if he really has a heart, or if he is acting all the time?"

Dinner was served in the great hall that night, and once again it was a triumph for the chef and the host. During the meal an orchestra, composed of some of the servants on the estate, clad in picturesque national costumes, discoursed sweet, haunting, heart-stirring music.

Outside, the courtyard was festooned with coloured lights and around lighted braziers groups of men, women and children, in multi-coloured garments, were gathered, feasting, singing, playing and dancing.

"To-night, if it pleases you, we will mingle with my people, who are holding festival in your honour," said Don Carlos when dinner was over. "I would advise you all to put on your warmest wraps, for the night winds here in the Sierra Morena are treacherous."

The night seemed quite mild, but Myra took her host's advice and put on her fur coat before going out into the courtyard to watch the performance. Don Carlos and his English guests were greeted with cheers when they appeared in the patio. A bearded patriarch, who looked as if he had stepped out of a picture by Velasquez, stepped forward and delivered a flowery speech of welcome, then comely maidens and dark-visaged youths performed a picturesque dance to the accompaniment of stringed instruments.

The set dance over, groups of men sang old Spanish and Basque folk songs, after which Don Carlos's own orchestra, which had played in the great hall during dinner, took up a position in the centre of the patio and dancing became general.

"Come, let's mingle with the throng and take part in the fun," cried Don Carlos gaily. "Come, Myra, let me teach you the Spanish dance the boys and girls are dancing so merrily."

He did not wait for an answer, and before Myra quite realised what was happening she found herself being whirled round in his arms in the midst of the motley crowd.

"Don't hold me so tightly, Don Carlos, and don't dance so fast," she protested breathlessly, after a few minutes. "I am nearly suffocated in this fur coat, and the cobbles are hurting my feet. One can't dance on cobble-stones in satin shoes."

"Myra, darling, the delight of holding you in my arms made me forget all else," Don Carlos responded, slackening his pace. "I'll guide you out of the crowd, and make love to you instead of dancing."

"I don't want you to make love to me," said Myra, "but I shall be glad to get out of this crush, for I hate being elbowed about."

"Make way, good people, make way for the senorita who will soon be your mistress!" cried Don Carlos in Spanish, and those around stopped dancing to cheer.

Just as the couple were free of the crowd, all the electric lights, both in the castle and the courtyard, were suddenly extinguished, and at the same moment uproar broke out at the courtyard gates and shots were fired.

"The bandits! El Diablo Cojuelo and his men!" a voice screamed.

Instantly all was confusion. Women shrieked and ran in all directions in the darkness.

"I am here! Rally to your master, Don Carlos!" shouted Don Carlos. "Rally to Don Carlos!"

Almost immediately he was surrounded, not by his own servants, but by a body of masked and armed men. Myra clung to his arm, but was snatched away from him, someone enveloped her head in a cloak, she was picked up in strong arms as if she were a baby and carried quickly for some distance. She struggled fiercely, but the cloak that enveloped her, to say nothing of her own fur coat, hampered her movements, and she was almost as helpless as an infant in the arms of its nurse.

Her captor halted for a moment, growled out some orders breathlessly in Spanish, and Myra found herself dumped down on the seat of a motor car, which immediately started off at a rapid rate. Half stifled, she tore the cloak from her face, and as she did so an arm encircled her.

"El Diablo Cojuelo has captured the prize of his lifetime!" said a deep voice triumphantly.

Myra's heart seemed to miss a beat as she felt the outlaw's arm tighten around her, panic seized her, and she had to fight the inclination to scream, and scream and scream.

"You are trembling, little lady," said the muffled voice of her captor. "Do not be so sore afraid. I am not the fiend people make El Diablo Cojuelo out to be, and will take care of so precious a treasure. Don Carlos will ransom you, but perhaps when you have seen me and my mountain nest you will not want to be ransomed."

Myra's natural courage began to reassert itself, and she was ashamed of having displayed any signs of fear. "Displayed" is hardly the word, for the inside of the car, which was hurtling along at great speed, was so dark that she could not even see the shape of the man whose arm encircled her, and she knew he could not see her.

Somehow, the brigand's voice, muffled though it was—as if he were speaking with something over his face—struck her as vaguely familiar, and as Myra collected her scattered wits it occurred to her that El Diablo Cojuelo had spoken in English.

"A Spanish brigand who speaks English!" she exclaimed aloud, and Cojuelo laughed.

"Si, senorita!" he answered. "So we shall be able to understand each other. Don Carlos de Ruiz taught me English, and I imitate his voice and accent when I am speaking your language. We are really very good friends, Don Carlos and I, and he bears me no ill-will. I provide him with amusement, and he would be sorry to see me captured."

"He will certainly bear you ill-will for having kidnapped me, and make every effort to kill you," retorted Myra, recognising that Cojuelo's muffled voice did resemble that of Don Carlos.

"Because he loves you?" queried Cojuelo, with a chuckle. "You think he will be mad because I have robbed him of his heart's desire?"

"How do you know that he loves me?" asked Myra in amazement.

She was no longer terrified, and had recovered her nerve, but she still found it difficult to believe she was not dreaming. It seemed more like a nightmare than actuality that she should be sitting in a pitch-dark car, talking of love and Don Carlos to a Spanish outlaw who had captured her, and whose arm encircled her waist. She was not conscious of fear now, but Cojuelo's reply to her question scared her more than a little.

"Sweet senorita, what man with a heart and eyesight could resist falling in love with so beautiful a woman?" he responded. "Perhaps I shall fall in love with you myself and refuse to surrender you, no matter how great a ransom is offered. For years I have been seeking my ideal, but not one of the many women I have captured in my time pleased me enough to make me wish to keep her. You may be different."

Before Myra could find words to reply, the car came to a sudden stop, the door was flung open and a gruff voice growled out a question in Spanish which Cojuelo answered in the same language.

"We will alight now, senorita, and take a little riding exercise," he said to Myra. "I know you are an expert horsewoman, for I was near you this morning when you were riding with Don Carlos, and I know you will have no difficulty in sitting a mule although you are not in riding dress. Only mules can negotiate the paths that lead to my mountain nest. Come!"



CHAPTER XII

Without a word, Myra stepped out, to see by the headlights of the car that she was apparently in a mountain gorge, and to see a group of masked and armed men standing beside some mules. She turned to look at her captor as she reached the front of the car, and found that Cojuelo was wearing what looked like a monk's cowl which completely covered his face, and which accounted for his muffled voice. She saw that he was tall, but that was all.

Cojuelo snapped out some orders, and a soberly-dressed, elderly man, wearing no mask and carrying in his arms a number of parcels, appeared out of the darkness and got into the car, which turned and sped away.

"Bien!" exclaimed Cojuelo, as the motor disappeared. "Everything is working according to plan. In the unlikely event of the car being stopped, it is found to contain Garcilaso, Don Carlos's steward, returning from doing some marketing in the city. And who would guess that the fair senorita had been spirited away in one of Don Carlos's own cars?"

"So some of Don Carlos's servants are in your pay?" exclaimed Myra.

"They are all in my pay, sweet lady, and every man knows it is as much as his life is worth to betray me," Cojuelo answered, with a triumphant laugh. "But we waste time, and must not take the risk, remote as it is, of being seen. Let me assist you to mount."

He picked Myra up in his arms and swung her up without any apparent effort on to the saddle of a mule which one of the men had led forward, mounted another mule himself, and gave some rapid orders.

"Follow me and ride carefully, senorita, for there are some steep and dangerous paths to negotiate," he called to Myra. "Mendoza will lead your mule at the most perilous places. Avanzar!"

To anyone less accustomed to riding and to taking risks than Myra, that night ride through the mountains of the Sierra Morena would have been a blood-curdling and nerve-shattering experience. Often she had to guide her mule along a rough path barely a couple of yards wide, with a sheer drop of hundreds of feet on one side, a path where a stumble or a false step on the part of the animal would have meant certain death.

Yet Myra was conscious of no sense of fear now, and the dangers only made her pulse beat faster and stirred her blood. But it was no easy task riding a mule along precipitous paths and keeping her seat while slithering down slopes, clad as she was in only a filmy evening frock and a fur coat, and she cried out in protest at last:

"How much further, Senor Cojuelo? I cannot sit this ungainly brute much longer in these clothes."

"Courage, sweet lady, we have but a little further to go," Cojuelo called back to her over his shoulder.

He spoke truly. A few minutes later the party halted in a narrow, pitch-dark ravine, and Myra was lifted from her mule.

"Take my arm, senorita, lest you stumble in the darkness on the rough ground," said the muffled voice of El Diablo Cojuelo. "The entrance to my mountain eyrie is narrow and unprepossessing, but I promise you that you shall find comfort within."

He pressed the switch of an electric torch as he spoke, and guided Myra over rocky ground to what seemed a mere cleft in a wall of rock.

"You will notice that this entrance to my lair is only wide enough to allow of the passage of one person at a time," he resumed. "Here a handful of men could defy an Army Corps, and there are other means of entry—and other ways of escape. I give you welcome, sweet lady, to the fortress of El Diablo Cojuelo."

Myra, again with the sensation that the whole affair was a sort of fantastic dream, squeezed through the cleft revealed by the light of the electric torch, advanced two or three yards, passed through another cleft at right-angles to the first, and stopped at Cojuelo's bidding.

"You perceive, senorita, that we seem to have come to a dead end," said the bandit, flashing the light about. "What appears to be a solid wall of rock confronts us. It is actually a cunningly-contrived door giving entrance to a series of caves which Nature must surely have constructed for my use. And El Diablo Cojuelo has improved on nature. He aqui!"

With his foot he pressed some hidden spring or lever on the ground, and a massive door swung open, revealing to the astonished eyes of Myra a big, irregularly-shaped room that looked as if it had been hewn out of the solid rock, a room furnished with roughly-constructed chairs and a settee on which there were many cushions, and with many rugs on the rocky floor. Most amazing feature of all, the place was lighted with electricity and warmed by an electric radiator.

"I suppose I am awake and not dreaming!" exclaimed Myra, moving forward and gazing round with wondering eyes. "This is more amazing than the castle of Don Carlos. Are you a magician as well as a brigand?"

"Both, senorita," Cojuelo answered, as he closed the secret door, "but there is nothing magical about it, after all. It was a simple matter to have an electric light plant smuggled up here in sections. It was an equally simple matter to obtain rugs and cushions from the Castillo de Ruiz, since all the servants of Don Carlos, as I have told you, are in my pay."

He strode forward to the table and touched a bell, and almost immediately an ancient woman with a wrinkled monkey-like, nut-brown face, tanned by wind and weather, appeared through an opening concealed by a curtain in the further wall. She was obviously of great age, but her eyes were bright and sparkling with intelligence, and she was active in her movements.

"This is Mother Dolores, who will attend you," Cojuelo explained, after giving the woman some instructions in her native tongue. "She has a change of clothing and refreshments in readiness for you. I will leave you in her charge while I attend to the disposal of my other captives."

He disappeared through the aperture in the wall, and Mother Dolores, after inspecting Myra appraisingly and admiringly, gabbling away in Spanish idioma meanwhile, indicated to the fair prisoner that she wished her to accompany her.

She led the way through a regular maze of crooked passages, and Myra saw that Cojuelo's mountain lair was a strange freak of nature, probably the result of a volcanic upheaval or an earthquake in some prehistoric age. It was a series of caves connected with fissures, a sort of irregular honeycomb of rock.

"Apartiamento—dormitorio," were the only words Myra understood of the flood Dolores let loose as she ushered her into one of the cave-rooms, and by pantomime indicated that she wished Myra to undress.

The rocky walls of the cave-bedroom were hidden beneath hangings of moire silk, the floor was thickly carpeted, and the place was equipped with an oak bedstead and some small pieces of roughly-constructed furniture. But what made Myra gasp in amazement was to see her own silk dressing-gown and the nightie she had worn the night before lying on the eiderdown bedspread, together with other garments, while on the primitive dressing-table stood her dressing-case.

"Incredible!" she exclaimed. "These things were in my bed-room at the Castillo de Ruiz only an hour or two ago!"

"Si, si, senorita, El Castillo de Ruiz," said Dolores, nodding her head and showing her toothless gums in a grin. "Maravilloso! Etra vez el bueno maestro Cojuelo."

"Cojuelo boasted that all the servants of Don Carlos are in his pay, and it must be true," thought Myra. "These things must have been taken from my room before the raid, and the servants probably knew El Diablo Cojuelo was going to kidnap me.... Surely I have nothing to fear from a man who takes such trouble to ensure that I shall be comfortable? And yet..."

Dolores scuffled out, still gabbling unintelligibly in Spanish, but reappeared almost at once with a jug of hot water. She stood watching Myra with mingled curiosity and admiration as her fair charge washed after leisurely undressing, then put on her chic night-dress and dressing-gown, and a filmy, attractive boudoir cap.

"Senor Cojuelo said something about refreshments," said Myra, hoping she would make Mother Dolores understand, and trying to remember some of the Spanish words she had learned. "I should like a cup of coffee—cafe—or a glass of vino, and a cigarette—cigarillo. Entender?"

"Si, si, senorita," answered Dolores. "Cafe, vino, aguardiene, cigarillo, Todo pronto."

She opened the door and made signals to Myra that she wished her to return with her to the outer apartment, at the same time letting loose another torrent of words.

"Perhaps meals in bed-rooms are charged extra!" Myra remarked, and laughed at the idea.

She was conscious of no sensation of actual fear, but she was curious and apprehensive as to how El Diablo Cojuelo would behave, remembering his reputation and his hint that he might fall in love with her and refuse to surrender her no matter how great the ransom offered.

Still smiling, Myra slid her bare feet into her bedroom slippers and accompanied Mother Dolores back through the maze of crooked, rocky passages to the outer apartment.

"Comer e heber e fumar, senorita," said Dolores, indicating a tray set on a stool close by the electric heater. On the tray stood a steaming jug of coffee, a flagon of cognac, a plate of biscuits, a cup and saucer, and a silver cigarette-box.

"More magic!" commented Myra, as Dolores set a chair for her and poured out a glass of cognac which she insisted upon Myra drinking at once. Then she poured out coffee, gabbled something about the "bueno maestro," and withdrew.

Left alone, Myra sipped the fragrant coffee and looked about her with interest.

"This is certainly brigandage up to date!" she reflected. "I wonder what manner of man El Diablo Cojuelo is?"

A minute or two later she heard a movement behind her and glanced over her shoulder expecting to see Mother Dolores, but saw instead the hooded figure of El Diablo Cojuelo. Instinctively, she drew her silken dressing-gown closer around her and started to her feet.

"I am sorry if I startled you, senorita," said Cojuelo. "It is a delightful surprise to find you like this."

"Dolores seemed to be insisting that I must come here for my coffee," explained Myra, recovering her composure.

"I instructed Madre Dolores to ask you to do me the honour of returning here to have a talk with me before you retired, senorita, forgetting that you do not understand much Spanish," responded Cojuelo. "I hardly hoped to find you in neglige. You are a vision of beauty to ravish the heart of any man, sweet lady."

"Thanks for the compliment, senor," said Myra coldly. "If I had understood you wished to talk to me, I should not have prepared to retire. Surely anything you have to say will keep until to-morrow. Meanwhile, I shall be thankful for a cigarette."

"Pardon!" exclaimed Cojuelo, turning quickly to pick up the silver cigarette-box from the table, and proffering it. "Your favourite brand, you perceive. You will give El Diablo Cojuelo credit, I hope, for making provision for your comfort."

"You certainly seem to be something of a magician," commented Myra, as she helped herself to a cigarette and accepted a light. "Perhaps you are in league with the Devil, and that is why you are known as El Diablo Cojuelo! I should be interested to know how you managed to get some of my clothes here, together with my toilet requisites."

"That was not the work of the devil, senorita," the hooded figure answered, with a muffled laugh, "El Diablo Cojuelo thinks of everything, and had made his preparations in advance. Did I not tell you all the servants of El Castillo de Ruiz were in my pay? It was a simple matter, therefore, to have some of your things smuggled out of the castle before the raid. Pray be seated, senorita."

He waved his hand invitingly towards the couch which was drawn up close to the electric heater, and Myra, reflecting that it was in keeping with the rest of the fantastic, dream-like adventure that she, clad only in a nightdress and dressing-gown, should be talking to a hooded bandit in an electrically-lighted room in the heart of a mountain, seated herself.

"I suppose I should thank you for being so thoughtful," she remarked, with a tinge of irony in her sweet voice. "Am I to understand that even the English-speaking maid at the Castillo de Ruiz is in your pay?"

"Even she, senorita, and I reproach myself—I who have boasted that I think of everything—for not having kidnapped her at the same time as you, so that we should have had no language difficulty such as has occurred with Madre Dolores. If you wish it, I will kidnap her to-morrow."

"Please don't trouble, senor. I can't believe she is in your pay. She seemed afraid and crossed herself when she mentioned your name. You might frighten her to death. Incidentally, do you wear your disguise all the time, even when you are safe here in your mountain lair? Do you look so much like a devil that you are afraid to show your face?"

She looked challengingly at the hooded figure of her captor as she asked the questions. His cowl had two holes cut for the eyes and a slit at the mouth, and she was wondering what manner of face it concealed.

"The senorita pays me the compliment of wishing to see me without disguise!" exclaimed Cojuelo. "Sweet lady, are you not afraid you may fall in love with your captor?"

"I think I can take the risk," retorted Myra drily.

"It is more than a risk," rejoined Cojuelo, "but I will discard my disguise with pleasure. Behold El Diablo Cojuelo!"

He flung off his cowl and robe, and Myra sprang to her feet with a cry of amazement and her hands went convulsively to her breast. For she found herself looking into the smiling and triumphant eyes of Don Carlos de Ruiz.



CHAPTER XIII

"Don Carlos!" she gasped. "You! But I don't understand."

"I am El Diablo Cojuelo, dear Myra," explained Don Carlos, obviously enjoying the sensation he had created. "I feared you had guessed my secret."

"So the whole affair, I take it, is an elaborate practical joke?" Myra queried after a pause, dropping back into her seat and forcing a laugh. "El Diablo Cojuelo, the outlaw, is merely a creature of your own imagination?"

"I am El Diablo Cojuelo," repeated Don Carlos. "I am a dual personality. At my castle and at Court I am Don Carlos de Ruiz, Governor of a Province and an administrator of the laws. Here in my mountain eyrie I am Cojuelo, the outlaw, acknowledging no laws save those I make myself."

"I still do not understand," remarked Myra, with perplexity in her blue eyes. "Do you mean to say you lead a double life and occasionally masquerade as a brigand, without anyone knowing that Don Carlos and Cojuelo are one and the same? Is there no one aware of your identity?"

"Many of my people are aware of my identity, but none would betray me, even if put to the torture," replied Don Carlos. "Those who are in the secret vastly enjoy the way in which I hoodwink the authorities. They enjoy the joke of my offer of a reward for the capture of El Diablo Cojuelo, dead or alive, and my periodical 'searches' for the outlaw."

"But what is the idea of it all?" inquired Myra. "It seems foolishness to me, but perhaps it flatters your vanity to be able to go about scaring women and kidnapping girls."

There was scorn instead of bewilderment in her voice and eyes now, and Don Carlos's pale face flushed slightly.

"Before the coming of El Diablo Cojuelo there were men in this province who had enriched themselves at the cost of the peasants, cheated farmers out of their land, and made them little better than serfs," he explained quietly and deliberately. "The law could not touch these vampires, parasites, money-lenders and profiteers. Cojuelo came upon the scene, bled these rogues as they had bled the peasants, plundered their houses, spirited them away, and held them to ransom."

"Really! Quite a profitable hobby, I suppose!" Myra remarked.

"Quite—and useful, to boot," responded Don Carlos, his face now expressionless. "With the money which I have wrung from the spoilers I have been able to restore their lands to many of the people without much cost to myself, to pay their debts and aid them to escape from the thraldom of blood-sucking money-lenders and tyrannical masters. I have also made it possible for men to marry the girls of their choice, in cases where the parents objected. A threat from El Diablo Cojuelo to carry off a girl if she is not allowed to marry the man she loves, is usually enough to bring her parents to their senses."

"So, if I understand you aright, you are a sort of benevolent brigand, doing good without much risk or expense to yourself?" remarked Myra. "A sort of modern Claude Duval—although he was a highway-man and not a kidnapper."

"It pleases you to be ironic, Myra," responded Don Carlos. "Expense does not concern me, for I am very wealthy, but it pleases me to deprive the blood-suckers of their ill-gotten gains. As for the risk, I suggest you underestimate it. There is a price on the head of El Diablo Cojuelo, as I have mentioned, and the military have orders to shoot at sight. Apart from that, however, if my identity were betrayed, my wealth and position would not save me from being cast into prison. I might even be condemned to death."

"How amusing!" commented Myra, still inclined to be scornful. "What you say may be true, but it does not explain or excuse your conduct in bringing me here as your captive. I was your guest, and therefore you were responsible for my safety."

"I warned you that El Diablo Cojuelo might carry you off and teach you how to love," answered Don Carlos, his grave face illuminated by a boyish, impish smile.

"Oh, don't talk nonsense!" exclaimed Myra impatiently. "You cannot excuse your conduct. I haven't been robbing the poor or anything of the sort, and if you attempt to keep me here there will be trouble. Tony will move heaven and earth to find me."

"I could excuse myself, if excuses were necessary, by explaining that I have captured girls before to save them from marrying men they did not love," said Don Carlos. "El Diablo Cojuelo fell in love with you at first sight, and will prevent you from marrying the man to whom you are betrothed but do not love."

"Don Carlos, please be sensible," pleaded Myra, at heart a little fearful now. "Don't you realise that this escapade may have serious consequences for you? Tony is sure to communicate with the British Ambassador, and the affair may become one of international importance. The best thing you can do is to take me back to-morrow morning, and explain that the whole affair was an elaborately-planned practical joke."

"I am quite agreeable to do that, Myra, provided you promise to marry me and confess that you love me," said Don Carlos. "We can explain that we succeeded in escaping from the clutches of El Diablo Cojuelo, or, if you prefer it, you can tell Mr. Antony Standish that I rescued you, and you have fallen in love with your rescuer."

"I shall do nothing of the sort," exclaimed Myra with spirit.

"In that case, Myra, you will remain here as the captive of El Diablo Cojuelo, and the outlaw will try to teach you the meaning of love and passion, teach you to respond to the call of your heart—if you have a heart. You shall have your first lesson now, my sweet captive."

He sat down beside Myra on the couch as he spoke, flung his arms around her and drew her into a close embrace in spite of her frantic struggles, crushing her close to his breast and kissing her lips, her cheeks, and her breast. Myra screamed breathlessly, but he only laughed at her.

"Why waste your breath, sweet lady?" he laughed. "No one can hear your cries, except, perhaps, Mother Dolores; but if all my band were within hearing not one man would even think of daring to attempt to intervene, no, not even if you were his own daughter. You are completely at my mercy."

"Let me go. Oh, please, please, let me go!" gasped Myra, still vainly striving to break from his embrace. "Surely you won't be coward enough to take advantage of my helplessness!"

"Only confess that you love me, Myra darling, and I will do anything you ask," Don Carlos replied, his deep voice vibrant with passion, his dark eyes aglow with ardour. "Only confess yourself conquered."

"I won't! I won't! I'd rather die! I hate you, hate you!" stormed Myra gaspingly, still struggling. "Let me go, you brute. You are hurting me."

Don Carlos relaxed his hold, but restrained Myra when she would have risen from the couch.

"Myra, darling, why do you persist in resisting me and refusing to listen to the call of love?" he asked gently. "Do you realise that your resistance is but adding fuel to the fires of my passion? You drove me almost mad when you coquetted with me aboard the yacht, made me crazy with desire, then laughed at me. I am but human, and my longing for you is not to be denied. I vowed I would make you mine if I had to break every law of God and man. You are mine now, my lovely, adorable Myra, my heart's delight, mine to do with as I will, to take or break."

The quietly spoken words struck dread into Myra's heart. It seemed to her that a remorseless gleam had crept into the bright eyes of Don Carlos. Intuitively she knew that he was determined to impose his will upon her, and mingled with her dread there was resentment.

"Is it useless to appeal to your better nature, to your chivalry?" she asked quickly, her voice tremulous.

"Is it useless to appeal to you again to surrender to the call of love?" countered Don Carlos. "Myra, mia cara, every fibre of my being is pulsing with love for you, and my heart is craving for the joy and rapture that you alone can give. Look into my eyes, mia cara, and whisper that you love me."

He laid his hands on Myra's shoulders as he spoke, compelling her to meet his burning glance, and Myra felt as if she were being hypnotised.

"You love me, Myra darling, and it is only pride that prevents you from confessing yourself conquered," went on the caressing voice. "When you are mine, you will whisper you are glad that I conquered you. You are lovely, my dear, seductive, adorable prisoner, and the beauty of you sets me aching with longing."

His hands slid caressingly from Myra's shoulders down her arms to her hands, which he raised to his lips and then drew round his neck. Myra was trembling, and her breath was coming and going unsteadily, and she felt as if she had lost all powers of resistance, felt as if she had been drugged. She closed her eyes, and a gasping sigh broke from her lips as Don Carlos strained her close to his breast again, murmuring endearments.

"Let me set your heart afire with burning kisses," he murmured. "I will kiss the heart out of you, sweet one, and kiss it back again white hot with my own love and ardour. Give me back kiss for kiss, beloved."

Again he was kissing her, hungrily, passionately, yet tenderly withal. Myra's senses were reeling. He did seem to be drawing the very heart out of her with his lips, and drugging her senses. She felt as if she were suffocating, and again she began to struggle involuntarily after a few minutes as he drew her down with him on to the couch.

"You are stifling me," she panted. "Let me go."

Don Carlos released her at once, and she rose to her feet, pressing her hands instinctively to her heaving bosom, as if to try to still the wild throbbing of her heart. Her lovely face was flushed, her breath was coming and going in sobbing gasps, her eyes, dark with emotion, were feverishly bright, and her whole body seemed afire.

"Let me go now, please," she added gaspingly. "I can bear no more. I—I think I am going to faint."

She swayed as she spoke, and Don Carlos was on his feet in an instant, and had thrown his arm around her lest she should collapse.

"Lie down again for a few minutes, beloved, until you recover," he said quickly.

He settled Myra back again among the cushions on the couch, and insisted upon her drinking a glass of aguardiente, which made her feel more feverish than ever but revived her and dispelled the faintness.

"Did I kiss you too hungrily, darling, and feast myself too long on your sweet lips without pausing for breath?" asked Don Carlos, after a pause, when he saw that Myra was recovering. He, too, was flushed and rather breathless, and his long, sinewy hands were trembling slightly. "Myra, beloved, have my kisses fired your heart?"

"You have hurt me," equivocated Myra, avoiding his glowing eyes. "I feel faint and exhausted. Oh, surely I have suffered enough to-night! My strength is spent. Oh, surely you won't be so cruel as to take further advantage of my helplessness?"

Don Carlos sighed heavily, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I did not mean to hurt you, and had forgotten that you must be weary," he said, after a moment of hesitation. "I will put you to bed, beloved, and to-morrow you will tell me that you love me."

He bent down and picked Myra up as if she were a baby, cradling her in his arms and smiling down into her startled blue eyes.

"Always, since our first meeting, I have longed to hold you in my arms like this and to feel that you were wholly and completely mine," he murmured, as he caressed Myra's cheek with his lips. "You are very beautiful, my sweet love. The sweetness and loveliness of you entrances and enraptures my heart. I shall spend my life admiring and adoring and worshipping, exploring and delighting in the loveliness of you, my heart's delight. Do you not feel, Myra mia, that here in your lover's arms and on my breast you have found the home of your heart?"

Yet again Myra felt he was sapping her powers of resistance, casting a spell over her, and she lay passive in his strong arms, breathing gaspingly.

"Let me go," she pleaded brokenly. "Please let me go!"

"As you wish," said Don Carlos. "I shall put my sweet baby to bed."

He carried Myra through the winding, rocky passages to her room, at the door of which Madre Dolores was waiting. The old woman cackled with laughter at sight of them, and rubbed her skinny hands together delightedly.

"Io! I see I shall not be wanted, master!" she chuckled, and scuffled away, her skinny shoulders shaking a half-suppressed merriment which betrayed her thoughts more than words could have done.

Dread gripped Myra's heart as Don Carlos carried her into the bedroom and set her down gently on the side of the bed. Every vestige of colour had drained out of her lovely face and she was trembling violently.

"Do not be afraid, Myra darling," Don Carlos murmured caressingly. "I can be gentle as any woman, and would not harm my precious treasure. Are you afraid that the sight of you will be so enticing to your lover when he takes off your dressing-gown that he will not be able to tear himself away from you?"

"Don Carlos, it isn't fair!" burst out Myra tremulously. "Please go!"

"Not until I have put my sweet baby to bed, tucked her in, and kissed her good-night," said Don Carlos, and Myra knew that further protest would be useless.

So she had, perforce, to submit to his taking off her dressing-gown, and the glowing ardour and admiration in his dark eyes when she stood before him clad only in her filmy, sleeveless "nightie" brought the hot colour flooding back to her fair face again.

"Once before, Myra mia, I have seen you like this—on that night in Scotland when I put my letter on your pillow," breathed Don Carlos. "Surely you are the loveliest and most seductive woman in the world!"

He swept Myra into his arms again and kissed her repeatedly before at last laying her down on the bed. In a sort of panic Myra slid herself under the bedclothes and begged him breathlessly to leave her, but he paid no heed. He bent over her, his dark eyes glowing like twin flames, and laid his cheek against her own.

"Bid me stay, beloved," he whispered. "Give me the love for which my whole being is craving. Bid me stay."



CHAPTER XIV

Drowsily, Myra opened her eyes, awakened by the clatter made by Madre Dolores as she set down a tray on which was a breakfast of coffee and rolls by her bedside.

"Buenos dias, senorita," said Dolores, as Myra, unable to realise for a few moments where she was, blinked at her sleepily and dazedly.

"Buenos dias," repeated Myra mechanically. "Let me see, that is Spanish for 'good morning,'" she added to herself, stretching luxuriously and yawning. "I wonder where the maid is who speaks English?"

And then the mists of sleep lifted suddenly as she sat up in bed and she remembered everything vividly. Dolores, eyeing her curiously, wondered why the English senorita blushed furiously, wondered what she could have said to cause the fair senorita such obvious embarrassment.

"Possibly it is not anything I have said which caused her to blush," reflected the old woman. "Maybe she is thinking of last night, remembering that I saw the master carrying her to bed, or perhaps she is thinking of something that happened afterwards."

Dolores was not so wide of the mark. It was recollection of the events of the preceding night that had brought the burning blush to Myra's cheeks, and the thought of the interpretation the old woman might have put on what she had seen and heard.

"Just as well, perhaps, that she does not understand English, as she was probably eavesdropping all the time," thought Myra.

She was amazed that she should have been able to sleep soundly after her emotional ordeal, until she remembered that when at last Don Carlos had desisted in his attempt to make her surrender herself voluntarily and had left her, Madre Dolores had reappeared and insisted upon her drinking something out of a glass. The "something" was a sweet and pungent cordial, which probably contained some soporific drug.

When the mists of sleep cleared away completely from her mind, Myra found it difficult to analyse her feelings, but her predominant emotion was resentment against the man who had made love to her so lawlessly and had almost imposed his will on her.

Mingled with her resentment was something akin to fear, the haunting dread that her ordeal of the previous night might be a prelude to something worse. The hot flush of shame stained her fair face again as she realised she had been on the very verge of surrendering herself.

"I hate him! I hate him!" Myra told herself as she dressed. "I'll kill myself rather than confess I love him, and let him gloat over his conquest.... What should I do? Should I promise to marry him on condition that he takes me back to-day, and then denounce him to the authorities when we reach the Castle? That would be something like treachery, but it was treachery on his part to kidnap me while I was his guest.... I shall wait and see how he behaves before deciding."

She had to wait longer than she anticipated, for she found that "El Diablo Cojuelo" had left his stronghold. Failing to make herself understood, Dolores fetched an old man who looked like a comic opera pirate and who could speak a little English.

"El bueno maestro—the boss—he go away sun-up but will come back pretty-dam-quick, yes, I think," the man explained, with many bows and smiles. Actually it was not English he spoke but a queer mixture of Spanish and American. "The boss Cojuelo, he makka the business with the Ingles at El Castillo de Ruiz. You no need to have the fear, senorita. You alla right, yes, sure aqui. I spik the Ingles all right—yes? Vos comprender? Bein! The boss, the maestro, he come back all right, senorita. Yes, allaright, tank you ver' much, please!"

Left alone in the outer room, Myra walked up and down restlessly, wondering why he had gone back to the Castillo de Ruiz. The idea of attempting to escape occurred to her, and, after satisfying herself she was not being watched, she went to the cunningly-contrived door which seemed to be part of the wall of rock.

It was difficult enough to determine which part of the wall was the door, and when she did discover the seam that indicated it, Myra could find no lock, lever or spring to open the portal.

Baffled, she wandered through the maze of rocky passages, and encountered Madre Dolores, who, realising that she was on a sort of tour of exploration, showed her various cell-like apartments, gabbling away volubly but unintelligibly all the while, before conducting her to a great cave at the end of the labyrinth, a cave in which there were mules and asses tethered to rings fixed into the walls, and men of all ages and in all sorts of garb were taking their ease, smoking, drinking and playing cards or throwing dice.

At sight of Myra all the men who were awake rose and bowed respectfully, and the old brigand who could speak some English-American lingo stepped forward.

"Salve, senorita!" he exclaimed. "We give the welcomes and salutations to our reina, the consort of our boss El Diablo Cojuelo."

Myra turned and fled in confusion, blushing hotly, and found her way back to the other big apartment. She had no watch and no means of judging the passage of time, since no daylight could be seen, but she guessed it must be evening when Madre Dolores served a third meal.

She was toying with the food that had been set before her when she heard a sharp click, the secret door swung open, and a hooded figure stepped into the room.

"I have brought you your betrothed, Myra," said Don Carlos, after quickly closing the door behind him and throwing off his disguise. "I have brought Mr. Antony Standish here, and I propose to test the strength of his love for you and your love for him."

"How interesting!" drawled Myra, with forced calmness. "Where is Tony, and how did you manage to capture him? I should have thought the whole district by now would be full of police and soldiers hunting for El Diablo Cojuelo."

"Mr. Standish has been conveyed to a cell through the entrance used by my men," answered Don Carlos. "Unfortunately the messages summoning the police and the military, and reporting that the beautiful Senorita Rostrevor and Don Carlos de Ruiz have been kidnapped, do not appear to have been delivered. Possibly the servants of Don Carlos, sent to summon aid, were intercepted by the followers of El Diablo Cojuelo."

"Quite possibly!" agreed Myra, satirically, meeting the challenging glance of his twinkling eyes unflinchingly. "But how did you manage to capture Tony? Didn't he make a fight of it?"

"A masked and armed emissary of El Diablo Cojuelo by some mysterious means found his way into El Castillo de Ruiz, surprised Mr. Standish in his own room and demanded that he should accompany him to arrange terms for your ransom. Needless to say, I was the masked emissary. Mr. Standish demanded that his own safety be guaranteed, and it was not until I sardonically suggested he was more concerned about himself than about his fiancee, and was probably content to leave the beautiful Senorita Rostrevor to the tender mercies of El Diablo Cojuelo rather than endure any personal hardship, that I persuaded him to accompany me."

"Well, the fact that he accompanied you, without any guarantee of his personal safety, shows how much he loves me," commented Myra.

"H'm! That remains to be proved, but I promise you he shall be put to the test," retorted Don Carlos. "You, of course, can simplify the situation by telling him you have fallen in love with your captor and do not wish to be ransomed."

"I can further simplify the situation by telling Tony that El Diablo Cojuelo is Don Carlos de Ruiz," said Myra.

"No, Myra, that would complicate matters, since it might necessitate my keeping Standish a prisoner here indefinitely in order to prevent him from denouncing me to the authorities. Give me your word of honour not to reveal my identity to Standish, and I will have him brought in here to strike a bargain for you in your presence. You should be interested to know what value your English lover places on you."

"I don't think you are playing fair," said Myra, after much hesitation. "However, I promise, if you wish, not to reveal your identity to Tony to-night, but I shall not promise not to denounce you as soon as I regain my freedom."

"Thank you, Myra mia, that is sufficient promise," said Don Carlos, and laughed as he resumed his disguise. "I think I can promise you some amusement and enlightenment."

He looked again a mysterious and forbidding figure as he took a seat at the table and rang a bell and gave orders, after laying an automatic pistol in front of him. Seated on the couch some distance away, Myra had the sensation of watching and taking part in a play or a game of make-believe when, after a few minutes, Tony Standish, guarded by two villainous-looking but picturesquely-attired brigands, was marched into the apartment.

Tony's face was pale and he looked ruffled. At sight of Myra he gave a gasp of relief.

"Thank heaven you are safe, darling!" he exclaimed. "I have been crazy with anxiety about you. How have these bally ruffians been treating you?"

"I have had a ghastly time, Tony," answered Myra. "I haven't actually been ill-treated, but this man"—she nodded towards the hooded figure at the table—"has been making love to me and trying to take advantage of my helplessness."

"Are you the fellow who calls himself El Diablo Cojuelo?" demanded Tony, addressing the hooded figure. "Do you speak any English?"

"I am he who is known as El Diablo Cojuelo, senor, and I promise you that you will find me a veritable devil if you do not agree to my terms," answered Don Carlos. "Oh, yes, I speak English. How else could I have made love to the Senorita Rostrevor?"

"How dare you make love to Miss Rostrevor?" blustered Tony. "I warn you you shall suffer for this outrage. We are British subjects, and the British Government will make your confounded Spanish Authorities pay the penalty. Take off that hood thing and let's have a look at you."

It was a futile sort of speech, but Tony was conscious that he was at a disadvantage and he was trying to bluff.

"I am afraid the shock of seeing my face might be too much for you, senor," retorted Don Carlos, with a muffled laugh. "But I am willing to face you as man to man, if the idea is acceptable to you, and to fight you with such weapons as you may select, or without weapons. I flatter myself I am fairly proficient in your English sport of boxing, if you would prefer a fist fight rather than a duel with swords or pistols. I rather fancy we can settle this matter without calling for the intervention of the British Government!"

"What are you blathering about?" asked the astonished Tony. "Why do you want to fight me?"

"I am making you what an Englishman would surely call a sporting offer, senor," explained Don Carlos. "I will fight you for Miss Myra Rostrevor. If I beat you, you surrender her to me. If you beat me, I surrender her to you, set you both at liberty, and promise you safe conduct back to El Castillo de Ruiz without any question of payment of ransom, provided you give me your word of honour not to betray my identity, which I shall reveal to you. Is it a bargain?"

"But—but—hang it all!—the whole thing's fantastic!" stammered Tony, more bewildered than ever. "Why should I take the risk of having to surrender Miss Rostrevor to you? It is an absurd proposal, although you may think it is a sporty offer. I'm not afraid to fight you, but I've got to consider Miss Rostrevor."

"Does this proposal appeal to Miss Rostrevor?" inquired Don Carlos, turning his hooded head in Myra's direction. "It is possible that the risk of becoming the property of El Diablo Cojuelo is not altogether distasteful to her!"

Myra did not know how to answer. She felt inclined to bid Tony accept the offer, yet she knew it would be an unwomanly thing to do. Instinctively she felt, moreover, that in a fight Don Carlos would prove the victor.

"The risk is distasteful to me," she equivocated, after a pause.

"You seem to forget that you are completely at my mercy," remarked Don Carlos drily. "It is an act of grace on my part to offer Senor Standish the opportunity of fighting for you."

"Here, cut out this nonsensical talk and drop your pose of being a sportsman," interposed Standish. "What's the idea, anyhow? It's heads you win and tails I lose, I suppose, if it comes to fighting you. If I beat you, one of your gang of cut-throat ruffians would probably knife me. I see through your bluff, my man. You are pretending that you want to keep Miss Rostrevor with the idea of extorting a bigger ransom."

"You insult me!" thundered Don Carlos, springing up from his chair and bringing his clenched fist down on the table with a crash. "El Diablo Cojuelo has never broken his word and has kept his every promise, yet you dare to suggest he would not fight fair. Let me insult you in return, Senor Standish, by suggesting you are too much of a coward to fight for the girl you profess to love, and would surrender her rather than suffer pain."

"Confound you, you ruffian! How dare you talk to me in that fashion!" burst out Tony, forgetting his position, and taking an impulsive step forward—only to be seized roughly by his guards, one of whom jabbed the point of a knife against his breast. Tony flinched, then he shrugged his shoulders and faced the hooded figure disdainfully.

"Easy to take the high hand and to fling insults at a man when you have a lot of armed ruffians to protect you!" he said sarcastically. "What's the idea, anyhow? Why not get down to business instead of spouting a lot of balderdash?"

"I can dispense with the protection of the guards," Don Carlos remarked. "Garcilaso and Riafio, you will withdraw and leave me to deal with the senor. Wait outside," he added in Spanish.

He resumed his seat as the guards left the room, and Myra could see his eyes gleaming like black diamonds through the slits in his mask.

"Well, how much will you take to set Miss Rostrevor at liberty?" inquired Tony impatiently, after a pause. "I am sick of all this bluff and nonsense, being brought here blind-folded, and all that sort of thing, by another fellow dressed like you. The whole thing seems to me a fake, and it seems to me you must be in league with the authorities, else how could you have a place like this—electric light and all the rest of it—without being spotted?"

"Strange, is it not, Senor Standish?" responded Don Carlos, and his muffled voice had laughter in it. "Yet I assure you I am not in league with the authorities, and even Don Carlos, who prides himself on knowing practically every foot of the mountain range, failed to find my stronghold. Even a Division of your wonderful British Army and all your Scotland Yard would not discover the nest of El Diablo Cojuelo. You and Miss Rostrevor are as completely lost to the world here, and as helpless as you would be if the earth had swallowed you up."

"Oh, I quite realise you are in a position to dictate terms at present, if that's what you are getting at?" Tony exclaimed. "Why not get down to business without all this palaver? Look here, I'll pay you 10,000 pesetas to set Miss Rostrevor at liberty and give her safe conduct back to the Castle de Ruiz."

"Ten thousand pesetas," repeated Don Carlos. "Dios! Ten thousand pesetas! Miss Rostrevor, I congratulate you! Ten thousand pesetas are the Spanish equivalent of about sixty pounds, in English money. You see what a fabulous value your lover places on you. Sixty pounds! You must indeed feel flattered!"

Tony Standish's face crimsoned in annoyance, and a vicious expression flashed into his pale blue eyes.

"How much do you want?" he snapped.

Don Carlos did not answer. He rose from the table and walked to and fro, reiterating:

"Ten thousand pesetas—sixty pounds!"

Tony cursed under his breath, then his glance fell on the automatic pistol lying on the table, and he snatched it up and levelled it at his captor.

"Hands up, or I'll put a bullet through you!" he cried excitedly.

"Ten thousand pesetas—sixty pounds!" sneered Don Carlos again, paying no heed to the pistol levelled at him. "So that is the value you place on the woman you profess to love!"

Stung to fury and scarcely realising what he was doing, Tony Standish fired, but the shot did not seem to take effect, and before he could fire a second time Myra sprang at him and snatched the pistol from his hand. As she did so, the two guards dashed into the room, grappled with Tony and bore him to the floor. One of them put a knife to the Englishman's throat, and twisted round his head to call out something to his master.

"No, not now," said Don Carlos shortly, in Spanish. "Take him away, manacle him, and guard him closely."

The men dragged Standish to his feet and hustled him out of the room, and as they did so Don Carlos reeled, a gasping cry broke from him, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.



CHAPTER XV

Trembling with excitement and agitation, dazed by the suddenness of the seeming tragedy, Myra stood rigid for a few moments, then threw aside the pistol she had snatched from Tony and ran to Don Carlos, flinging herself down on her knees beside him, and tearing off his cowl with shaking hands.

"Are you badly hurt?" she cried breathlessly, horrified to see that Don Carlos's pale face was contorted in pain and his eyes were closed. "Where are you wounded, Don Carlos? Shall I call for Mother Dolores?"

There was no response save a low moan, Don Carlos's limbs stretched out as if they were stiffening into the rigour of death, and his head sagged back as Myra tried to raise it. Temporarily, Myra completely lost her head.

"Speak to me, Don Carlos," she gasped brokenly. "Open your eyes and look at me, darling. Oh, surely, surely you can't be going to die! What can I do? Oh, my dear, my dear—"

Her voice failed her, she tried to cry out for help but sobs choked her utterance. Don Carlos's eyes fluttered open for a moment then closed again.

"Kiss me, Myra darling," he moaned faintly. "Kiss me, my sweet love."

Quivering with emotion, Myra bent down and pressed her trembling lips to his—and immediately found herself encircled by two strong arms, found the eyes of the "dying" man open and glowing with life and ardour, found herself crushed in a close embrace, and being kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

She struggled, broke free, and scrambled to her feet, her brain in a turmoil, and almost instantly Don Carlos also was on his feet, laughing exultantly.

"Myra, darling, surely you can no longer persist in pretending you do not love me," he exclaimed breathlessly. "If you hated me, as you professed, you would have let Standish try to fire a second time. I have put you to the test and proved that you love me."

Myra, agitated, bewildered, torn by conflicting emotions, gazed at him wide-eyed.

"But—but aren't you wounded?" she stammered. "Have you only been pretending?"

"Only pretending, Myra, but I blame myself for not acting my part for a little longer," answered Don Carlos. "If only I had waited, pretending for a few minutes longer that I was dying, you would have confessed your love. But your kiss so fired my heart that I forgot my part."

He laughed again exultantly and made a movement as if to sweep Myra into his arms, but she recoiled from him hastily. Anger and resentment at having been fooled swiftly succeeded her bewilderment, and her blue eyes flashed her indignation.

"So you have only been making mock of me, playing a part as usual, to flatter your own vanity!" she exclaimed. "I am sorry now that Tony's aim was not truer, and that I prevented him from firing a second time."

"The result would have been just the same, Myra," Don Carlos responded. "The pistol was loaded with blank cartridges. I deliberately left it within the reach of Standish, to see if he would have the nerve to use it, and to see how you would behave if he fired at me. You must admit, Myra darling, that you showed more concern for me than for Standish, thereby proving that you love me best. Dear heart, I shall treasure the memory of the first kiss you gave voluntarily."

"I would kiss any ruffian who begged me to do so if I thought he was dying," said Myra. "You have no reason to flatter yourself on the success of your play-acting trickery."

"Myra, don't you think you have resisted me and the call of your heart long enough?" countered Don Carlos. "Must I take still stronger measures to induce you to surrender yourself voluntarily? What if I tell you that I propose to have Antony Standish branded with hot irons and scourged as a punishment for attempting to kill me, unless you give yourself to me?"

"You are talking melodramatic nonsense again," Myra protested. "You would surely not be guilty of such devilish cruelty!"

"El Diablo Cojuelo is capable of any devilry," Don Carlos retorted grimly. "Would you sacrifice yourself to save Standish if he were willing to accept your sacrifice?"

"I suppose I should have no alternative," replied Myra, after a pause. "But Tony would not accept my sacrifice. He is an Englishman, and will never be scared into surrendering me to one whom he believes to be a Spanish brigand and outlaw. He loves me."

"Unless I am much mistaken, he has not even begun to know the meaning of love," said Don Carlos. "Tell me, Myra, if my threat to have him flogged and branded makes him offer to surrender you to El Diablo Cojuelo in order to save himself, will you marry me?"

"If I thought he'd sacrifice me to an outlaw to save his own skin, I'd marry you in his presence," exclaimed Myra impulsively.

"That is a promise," said Don Carlos quickly. "You shall marry me in his presence if he proves himself a craven. I will see him again now and discover what is in his heart and mind—and I shall have a priest in readiness."

"Tony will not fail me," said Myra bravely, but her heart misgave her, and already she was repenting of her impulsive promise.

Don Carlos rang the bell, and gave some rapid orders to Garcilaso, who appeared in answer to the summons. The man at first apparently did not grasp what was required of him, but presently nodded understanding, withdrew and returned in a few minutes, accompanied by Riafio, who was carrying a pair of handcuffs and a coil of rope.

"What are the handcuffs for?" asked Myra apprehensively.

"They are for me, dear lady," explained Don Carlos, with a ghost of a smile. "It would not do to let Mr. Standish think that even El Diablo Cojuelo could manage to keep Don Carlos a prisoner without fettering him. Incidentally, I must give myself the appearance of having been roughly handled or Standish may smell a rat."

He flung off his coat as he spoke, tore off his collar and rumpled his hair, then ordered Riafio to handcuff him.

"Garcilaso and Riafio will now thrust me into the cell in which Mr. Standish is imprisoned, and he and I will have a little confidential talk about you and El Diablo Cojuelo," he resumed. "Standish naturally imagines that Don Carlos was captured at the same time as your charming self, and he will doubtless give me his confidence. It may be that he will be the more ready to surrender you when he learns that Don Carlos will be prepared to ransom you when Cojuelo has tired of you."

"More play-acting—and you are taking an unfair advantage again," commented Myra.

"You should thank me rather than blame me for putting Standish's love for you to the test," responded Don Carlos, with a shrug. "Pray make yourself comfortable until I return to call on you to redeem your promise. Adios!"

He gave more orders to his men, sternly bidding them restrain their mirth, for they were treating the affair as a huge joke, and both tried to assume an expression of ferocity as they marched him out.

Left alone, Myra flung herself down on the couch and pressed her hands to her burning cheeks.

"Oh, surely, surely he won't succeed in fooling or intimidating Tony into surrendering me," she whispered, feeling shaken to the depths. "I feel confident Tony won't give me up, and yet—oh, I wish I hadn't made that promise. I don't want to marry Don Carlos unless—oh, this is driving me crazy! What did he mean by saying Don Carlos might ransom me when Cojuelo had tired of me?"

It was fully an hour before Don Carlos reappeared, and Myra found the time of waiting and the suspense almost unbearable. She started convulsively to her feet as Don Carlos entered, and her heart seemed to miss a beat when she saw that he was smiling triumphantly.

"You are mine, Myra, mine!" he exclaimed exultantly, his dark eyes gleaming. "As I expected, Standish values himself and his own safety more than he values you, and he is ready to surrender you to El Diablo Cojuelo as the price of his freedom."

"I don't believe it! It can't be true!" protested Myra breathlessly. "Tony wouldn't be such a knave and coward. You have tricked him, I suppose, into saying something which you distort into an offer to surrender me."

"I repeat that Standish is now willing to leave you here at the mercy of Cojuelo, on condition that he is allowed to go scot free," said Don Carlos.

"I don't believe it! It can't be true!" Myra reiterated. "Take me to Tony and let me question him."

"Presently you shall have your wish, but first let me give you an account of my interview with Mr. Standish, so that you will know what questions to put to him," said Don Carlos. "Pray be seated, Myra, and calm yourself. Does the prospect of surrendering yourself to me so dismay your heart?"

Myra merely nodded, as she seated herself in the furthermost corner of the couch. She did not know what to say or what to believe, and her blue eyes were dark with dread as she watched Don Carlos, who had assumed a nonchalant attitude. He put on the coat he had discarded before going to interview Standish, helped himself to a drink from a side table, and lit a cigarette before taking a seat facing Myra.

"Why, I wonder, do you persist in doubting me?" he said, slowly and deliberately. "What I have told you is true. I had myself thrust as a prisoner into the cell in which your dear Tony Standish is at present imprisoned. He welcomed me like a long-lost brother, told me what had happened, and asked me if I could help to arrange terms with Cojuelo."

He broke off with a laugh, flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette, and finished his drink. Myra, waiting almost breathlessly for him to continue, felt that she wanted to shake him for being so tantalisingly deliberate.

"I told him that I had had a conversation with Cojuelo, and that the brigand had told me he meant to kill him by inches and make him die a hundred deaths for having attempted to murder him," resumed Don Carlos at length. "I told him I could ransom him and get him away scot free, but only if he agreed to hand you over to Cojuelo as part of his ransom."

Again he paused, and Myra could not restrain her impatience.

"Well? Go on. Do you mean to tell me Tony agreed?" she asked. "Or have you to pause every now and again to invent a story?"

"To do him justice, I must tell you that Standish did not at once agree," answered Don Carlos, tossing away the butt of his cigarette. "His idea was that Cojuelo had only been bluffing, and that it was merely a question of offering him enough money. Incidentally, you were right in your estimate, Myra. He said he would pay anything up to ten thousand pounds as a ransom for you. When I told him Cojuelo would not part with you for one hundred thousand pounds, he said he'd see him damned first before he'd pay it. So now you know your market value, as rated by Mr. Antony Standish, who has an income, I understand, of something like a hundred thousand pounds a year!"

"So because Tony wasn't idiot enough to agree to pay more than ten thousand pounds as ransom, you are trying to make out he agreed to resign me and leave me to the tender mercies of Cojuelo?"

Don Carlos shook his head and lit another cigarette with exasperating deliberation.

"Dear Myra, it may wound your pride, but he has resigned you," he said. "His love did not stand the acid test. I told him it was not a question of money, that Cojuelo had fallen madly in love with you and was afire with desire to make you his own, but thought it might bring him bad luck to take a girl who was betrothed to another man, unless the other man agreed to surrender her to him, or, at least, give her her freedom. Mr. Standish protested that nothing would persuade him to surrender you to Cojuelo."

"And yet you have said he offered to give me up?"

"Hear me out, Myra. I did not say he offered to give you up. I said he was willing to surrender you—which is a distinction with a difference. When he protested that nothing would persuade him to surrender you to Cojuelo, I reminded him that the bandit had threatened to have him scourged and branded with hot irons, that he was absolutely at the devil's mercy, and I played on his fears. I warned him that Cojuelo was a man of his word and would surely torture him unless he renounced you. He quailed at that, and after some hesitation agreed that he had no alternative but to accept his freedom and leave you here."

"But that does not mean that he renounced me," objected Myra, as Don Carlos paused again.

"What else does it mean, Myra?" asked Don Carlos. "I told him Cojuelo is madly in love with you, as I have said, and that if he accepted his freedom the outlaw would take it as an indication he had given you up. Yet he is going. True, he talked about organizing a rescue party, swore he would kill Cojuelo if any harm came to you, and all that sort of thing, but that was mere empty talk. The whole point is, as I said in the first place, that he is prepared, in effect, to surrender you to El Diablo Cojuelo as the price of his own freedom and safety."

"I cannot—I will not—believe it," said Myra firmly, rising to her feet. "Not until I hear Tony say himself that he is prepared to renounce me will I believe it. Let me see him."

"As you will," said Don Carlos, rising and putting on his disguise. "I will take you to him. Let me remind you, however, of your promise not to reveal the fact that Don Carlos and El Diablo Cojuelo are one and the same. I hold you to both of your promises—and I have a priest waiting to marry us. Come!"



CHAPTER XVI

He led the way through rocky, winding passages to the great cave, in which his motley band were enjoying their evening meal with much loud talk and laughter. At sight of the cloaked and hooded figure of their master and his fair captive there was a sudden hush, however, and practically all the men sprang to their feet at once.

"Mendoza, the keys of the prisoner's cell, please," said Don Carlos. "The senorita wishes to speak to the Englishman."

An elderly man with some keys on a chain attached to his belt hurried forward at once, and unlocked a massive door giving access to a small apartment that looked as if it had been hewn out of the solid rock. It was unfurnished save for a straw mattress with a brown blanket for covering, and a rough wooden bench, on which, when the door was flung open, Antony Standish was seated dejectedly with his head between his hands.

He sprang up with a sharp intake of breath, looking pale, startled and dishevelled, at sight of Myra and the hooded figure he assumed to be El Diablo Cojuelo.

"Hullo! What's the idea now?" he asked quickly. "Why have you brought Miss Rostrevor here?"

"The senorita wishes to assure herself that what she has been told by Don Carlos de Ruiz is correct," explained El Diablo Cojuelo, in his disguised and muffled voice. "I, also, wish to hear you say that you are prepared to accept your freedom and go back with Don Carlos to his castle, leaving the senorita with me, resigning her to me as your ransom."

Myra found herself strangely calm, felt as if she had run through the whole gamut of emotions and exhausted them all.

"Tony, is it true you told Don Carlos that you were willing to go and leave me here at the mercy of this outlaw, who professes to be passionately in love with me?" she asked, scarcely recognising her own voice. "Is it true?"

"True? Er—er—why, of course not," answered Standish, nervously fingering his little sandy moustache. "I mean to say—er—what exactly did Don Carlos tell you?"

"That you are prepared to leave me here, knowing that El Diablo Cojuelo will force me to become his wife, and accept your own freedom rather than run the risk of punishment," said Myra. "You are prepared to renounce me, Tony?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Tony, his face flushing duskily. "Nothing of the sort! I distinctly told Don Carlos that nothing would induce me to surrender you to Cojuelo. Myra, darling, you know I would never think of doing such a thing."

"So you assert that Don Carlos lied?" demanded Cojuelo sternly. "You did not tell him you would accept your freedom and leave the senorita to me if I refrained from flogging you and branding you? Will you swear that on oath—on your sacred word of honour as an English gentleman?"

"Don Carlos must have misunderstood me," Standish responded, nervously licking his dry lips. "Look here, Cojuelo, drop this fooling and be sensible. I realise you've got the whip hand, so to speak, and can dictate your own terms. How much do you want? I told Don Carlos I am willing to pay you ten thousand pounds—that's something like a million pesetas in your money—to set Miss Rostrevor and me free. Think of it, man—a million, and——"

"You have not answered my question, Senor Standish," interrupted Cojuelo curtly. "Do you assert that Don Carlos de Ruiz lied when he said you were willing to accept your freedom and leave the Senorita Rostrevor to me? Will you meet Don Carlos face to face and denounce him as a liar?"

"Don Carlos must have misunderstood me," repeated Tony. "It—er—it isn't a question of calling him a liar. Look here, Cojuelo, what's the use of all this bluff and bluster? Why don't you come down to brass tacks and state your terms?"

"Don Carlos did not misunderstand you, and you are lying," Cojuelo rasped at him. "Confess now to the Senorita Rostrevor that you have renounced her."

"I shall do nothing of the sort, confound you!" Standish exclaimed angrily. "Why the deuce don't you state your terms and have done with it?"

"My terms were clearly dictated to you through the medium of Don Carlos," said Cojuelo. "I give you your freedom on condition that you renounce the Senorita Rostrevor and surrender her to me. Incidentally, the senorita has promised she will marry me if you renounce her."

"I made the promise, Tony, because Don Car—er—I mean El Diablo Cojuelo—boasted that you would surrender me to save yourself," interposed Myra hastily. "I knew nothing would induce you to give me up, Tony. It isn't true, is it, that you agreed to go away with Don Carlos and leave me here?"

"No, of course I didn't mean that, Myra," answered Tony, gulping as if he had a lump in his throat. "Didn't I come here to ransom you?"

"If Don Carlos lied, and you still refuse to renounce the senorita after you have been flogged and put to the torture, then I will set her free and you also," Cojuelo said grimly. "That is a promise, and Cojuelo never breaks a promise. Meanwhile I say again that you are lying, and that Don Carlos told the Senorita Rostrevor the truth."