her, for all his bull-fighter face, knew not a single syllable; she
could play, and sing, and dance; and, above all things, she could ride.
No one in the Park rode better than Miss Paulo; no one in the Park had
better animals to ride. George Paulo was a judge of horseflesh, and he
bought the best horses in London for Dolores; and when Dolores rode in
the Row, as she did every morning, with a smart groom behind her,
everyone looked in admiration at the handsome girl who was so perfectly
mounted. The Paulos were a curious family. They had not the least desire
to be above what George Paulo called their station in life. He and his
wife were people of humble origin, who had honestly become rich; but
they had not the least desire to force themselves upon a society which
might have accepted them for their money, and laughed at them for their
ambition. They lived in a suite of rooms in their own hotel, and they
managed the hotel themselves. They gave all their time to it, and it
took all their time, and they were proud of it. It was their business
and their pleasure, and they worked for it with an artistic
conscientiousness which was highly admirable. Dolores had inherited the
sense and the business-like qualities of her parents, and she insisted
on taking her part in the great work of keeping the hotel going. Paulo,
proud of his hotel, was still prouder of the interest taken in it by his
daughter.

Dolores came in from her ride one afternoon, and was hurrying to her
room to change her dress, when she was met by her father in the public
corridor.

'Dolores, my little girl'--he always called the splendidly? proportioned
young woman 'my little girl'--'I'm puzzled. I don't mind telling you, in
confidence, that I am extremely puzzled.'

'Have you told mother?'

'Oh, yes, of course I've told mother, but she don't seem to think there
is anything in it.'

'Then you may be sure there is nothing in it.' Mrs., or Madame, Paulo
was the recognised sense-carrier of the household.

'Yes, I know. Nobody knows better than I what a woman _your_ mother is.'
He laid a kindly emphasis on the word 'your' as if to carry to the
credit of Dolores some considerable part of the compliment that he was
paying to her parent. 'But still, I thought I should like to talk to
you, too, little girl. If two heads are better than one, three heads, I
take it, are better than two.'

'All right, dear; go ahead.'

'Well, its about this Captain Sarrasin--in n