go, and you disobey me," exclaimed Lady Vale-Avon.
"Now, I tell you to send this man away."

"Mother--I love him," faltered the girl. "Wait--when you've heard--when you
know what he is--"

"You talk like a child, Monica," her mother said. "You are a child. It's
your one excuse; but this man, who must have hypnotized you, has reached
years of discretion. If he will not leave the room, we must."

"I'll go, Lady Vale-Avon," I said, "but first let me say once more,
frankly, I will never give up your daughter." Then I looked straight at
Monica. "Trust me," I said, "as I trust you; and have courage."

With that I bowed, and walked out at the window by which I hoped the Duke
thought I had come in.

"I'm not sure," I heard him say to Lady Vale-Avon, "that I oughtn't to
inform the police. In Barcelona, six or seven years ago--"

I waited for no more.

IV

"I DON'T THREATEN--I WARN"

In the garden I stopped, hiding away a scrap of a lace handkerchief I had
stolen; wondering if I had been altogether wrong, yet not able to see what
other course had been open.

Lingering near the window I saw Lady Vale-Avon go to Monica, and hold the
girl by the hand while she talked with Carmona. They spoke only a few
words. Then the Duke opened the door, and the two ladies went out, Monica
not once looking up.

No sooner had they gone than Carmona walked to the window, and seeing me
in the glimmering night joined me.

"This is my mother's house," he said in Spanish.

"And her garden, you would add," I answered.

"Yes."

"But there's something here that is mine."

"There is nothing here that is yours." His voice, studiously cold at
first, warmed with anger.

"It will be mine some day, in spite of--_everything_."

"You boast, Marques de Casa Triana."

"No. For Lady Monica Vale has promised to marry me."

Carmona caught his breath on a word by which, if he had not stopped to
think, he would have given me the lie. But something restrained him and he
laughed instead. "I wouldn't count on the fulfilment of her promise if I
were you," he said. "Lady Monica's a schoolgirl. I would tell you, for
your own sake, that the best thing you can do is to forget you ever saw
her; but that will be a waste of breath. What I will say is, you'll be
wise to leave Biarritz before anything disagreeable happens."

"I intend to leave Biarritz," I said quietly.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"When Lady M