rrassment, and said:
"Ah, yes. What would you? It is of a necessity."

"Well," I retorted, "then you ought to know that her uncle took it all to
himself--thought you some grateful Catholic pleased with his religious
tolerance."

He did not even smile. "BUENO," he said gravely. "That make something,
too. In thees affair it is well to begin with the duenna. He is the
duenna."

"And," I went on relentlessly, "her escort told her just now that your
exploit in the bull ring was only a trick to divert the bull, suggested
by the management."

"Bah! her escort is a geologian. Naturally, she is to him as a stone."

I would have continued, but a peon interrupted us at this moment with a
sign to Enriquez, who leaped briskly from the hammock, bidding me wait
his return from a messenger in the gateway.

Still unsatisfied of mind, I waited, and sat down in the hammock that
Enriquez had quitted. A scrap of paper was lying in its meshes, which
at first appeared to be of the kind from which Enriquez rolled his
cigarettes; but as I picked it up to throw it away, I found it was of
much firmer and stouter material. Looking at it more closely, I was
surprised to recognize it as a piece of the tinted drawing-paper torn
off the "block" that Miss Mannersley had used. It had been deeply
creased at right angles as if it had been folded; it looked as if it
might have been the outer half of a sheet used for a note.

It might have been a trifling circumstance, but it greatly excited my
curiosity. I knew that he had returned the sketch to Miss Mannersley,
for I had seen it in her hand. Had she given him another? And if so, why
had it been folded to the destruction of the drawing? Or was it part
of a note which he had destroyed? In the first impulse of discovery
I walked quickly with it toward the gateway where Enriquez had
disappeared, intending to restore it to him. He was just outside talking
with a young girl. I started, for it was Jocasta--Miss Mannersley's
maid.

With this added discovery came that sense of uneasiness and indignation
with which we illogically are apt to resent the withholding of a
friend's confidence, even in matters concerning only himself. It was no
use for me to reason that it was no business of mine, that he was right
in keeping a secret that concerned another--and a lady; but I was afraid
I was even more meanly resentful because the discovery quite upset my
theory of his conduct and of Miss Mannersley's attitude