“Most assuredly.”
The half-veiled contempt expressed in Isabel’s face exasperates Ashley. Hidden somewhere in that corsage, against which beats the falsest heart in Cuba, are papers that mean the ruin of the innocent girl at his side.
He must have time to think, think, think. So he excuses himself and leaves the crowded ball-room for a walk in the cool air of the garden.
In one corner of the spacious inclosure he finds a little arbor, and in this nook Ashley sits and smokes and thinks, but no plan for the confusion of the adventuress suggests itself, unless, as he growls vindictively, he abducts or chloroforms her.
His meditations are disturbed by voices close at hand. Two gentlemen have, like himself, forsaken the heated ball-room for the outer air, and they pause in their stroll within a few feet of Ashley’s retreat.
Jack pays no attention to them until by their voices and conversation he realizes that one of them is Captain Julio Alvarez and the other is Count Gonzaga. “That’s a happy combination,” he laughs softly. “They ought to get a few more of Isabel’s friends and hold a reunion.”
“You are an excellent judge of beauty, Count Gonzaga,” he hears Alvarez remark, with a faint sneer. “I have been noticing your devotion to the handsome Mrs. Harding, the widow of the enormously wealthy ship-owner.”
“Ah, amigo, is she not beautiful?” the count replies, enthusiastically. He appears to be in rare spirits. “I must ask you to congratulate me, Captain Alvarez.”
“I have—on your excellent taste.”
“On more, amigo. The beautiful American has consented to become the Countess Gonzaga.”