"I have heard of this man 'Leatherface,'" said Lenora slowly. "It is he, you think, who murdered Ramon?"
"Have we not the soldiers' testimony?" he rejoined blandly, "two men and the provost saw him quite clearly. As for me, I am not surprised: more than once our spies have reported that the man undoubtedly hailed from Ghent, and once he was traced to the very gates of this city. But," he added insinuatingly, "here he is surrounded by friends: every burgher in Ghent, no doubt, opens wide his hospitable door to the murderer of Spanish officers."
"Think you it is likely that the High-Bailiff of Ghent or ... or ... my future husband would harbour such an assassin?" she asked.
"Well!" he replied evasively, "all Netherlanders are treacherous. The High-Bailiff himself and his son Mark are said to be loyal ... but there's another son ... and the mother ... one never knows. It would be strange," he continued unctuously, "if at some future time the murderer of Ramon should find shelter in your house."
"I shall pray to the saints," she rejoined with passionate intensity, "that he and I may meet face to face one day."
Indeed de Vargas had no cause to fear that henceforth his daughter would fail in her vigilance. The assassination of her lover had stirred her soul to its inmost depths. Indifference and light-hearted girlishness had suddenly given place to all the violent passions of her ardent nature. For the moment desire for vengeance--for justice she called it--and hatred of the assassin and his mates had swept every other thought, every soft aspiration away: all her world--the world as seen through the rose-coloured windows of a convent window--had tottered and opened beneath her feet, and through the yawning chasm she now saw evil and lust and cruelty dancing a triumphant saraband over Ramon's dead body.
"There is a means," resumed de Vargas after a slight pause, during which through half-closed lids he studied the play of every varying emotion upon his daughter's beautiful face, "there is a means, my child, whereby you or any faithful servant of our King can henceforth recognise at a glance the man who killed your cousin Ramon."
"A means?"
"Yes. He carries upon his arm the brand of his own infamy."
"Will you tell me more clearly what you mean?" she asked.