“You’re indeed a clever talker, Señor del Norte.”
“Let me say a little more. Let me tell you that many times I have thought you should be one of my own blood. You are like my people in your dark eyes, your hair, your bearing, all save your cold exterior. Could you cast that off and be your true self—ah! what a wonderful change for the better! Something tells me your heart is not cold; something tells me it’s warm and impulsive.”
“Let’s not talk of these things,” said Inza. “I don’t like it. I wish you would tell me more of yourself and your family, señor. Do you know you have aroused my curiosity. I confess that.”
“Then, at least,” he laughed, “I am not wholly unattractive and repulsive to you? Perhaps you will forgive me if I have spoken too openly. I know you are engaged to Señor Merriwell, and a splendid gentleman he is. I admire him very much. Like many progressive Americans, he is interested in business projects in my country. Perhaps, señorita, you know a great deal about his plans?”
Del Norte uttered these words in a careless manner, but somehow Inza felt as if he were trying to pump her.
“Perhaps I do,” she answered.
“He is soon to return to Mexico?”
“Yes.”
“He has a mine in Eastern Sonora?”
“That’s right, Señor del Norte.”