“That will not be possible, Mr. Donnington.”
“We shall see. I doubt if I am more easily turned from a course I have once taken than you yourself. I’ll tell you how I view the thing, for it is the pith and marrow of this business with Sampayo. I came here for the express purpose of asking her to become my wife. I found her promised to Major Sampayo. I set my wits to work and my money, and ascertained that she had been driven to compromise herself in your politics. By means of money I succeeded in learning how she had been forced to join you. My whip-hand over Sampayo led him to admit that he did not really wish to marry her—and I found that you were really the background force which made him shrink from an open rupture with her. He agreed to a secret one and gave me a letter to her. I took that letter and she absolutely refused to open it. I saw, therefore, that Sampayo had been to you and that you had ordered her not to read it. Now I’ve spoken frankly and invite similar freedom from you. Why did you do this?”
“I cannot explain to you without entering into matters that are secret—political matters, I mean, of course,” he replied, making the addition quickly.
“Very good. Then you come to me and tell me that I must not do as I please with regard to Sampayo. You call it persecution. I apply that term to Mademoiselle Dominguez’ treatment. Cease that, give her back her freedom of action, and I’ve done with Sampayo. He can stop here or go to the devil for all I care.”
“I have told you it is not possible, Mr. Donnington,” he said firmly.
“You mean that you, for motives personal to yourself, will not permit it.”
“You have no reason to draw any such inference.”
“Well, I do draw it, and shall continue to believe it and act upon it until I learn it is wrong.”
“I tell you it is wrong, wholly wrong and preposterous.”
I looked at him with a purposely aggravating smile and shook my head. “As a matter of fact, I know,” I said. Pure bluff this, of course, but useful.