"It is your own name used intentionally," was the somewhat startling reply.
"My own name? Used by whom?"
"There is no other Ferdinand Carbonnell in all Spain than yourself. You are, as I say, the real Ferdinand Carbonnell."
She looked at my puzzled face with a half whimsical, half doubting expression, and then burst into one of her sweet, musical, witching laughs. "You shall know everything," she said.
CHAPTER V
THE EXPLANATION
Sarita did not speak for some time but sat with a very thoughtful look on her face which she turned now and again toward me, as though some point in her reverie had been reached which concerned me and made her doubtful.
"Yes, I am sorry, deeply sorry, and would undo it if I could!" she exclaimed at last, giving an impulsive utterance to her thoughts, and then jumping up and pacing the floor.
"Sorry for what?" I asked. "If it concerns me, as it seems to, pray do not trouble. I am not of much account."
"I am sorry that we used your name. Had I known what manner of man you were, nay, could I even have guessed you would ever come to Madrid, I would never have sanctioned it."