The blustering guest howled at him once more, punctuating his remarks with the butt of the whip.
"Where's your daughter?"
The old man trembled and bowed once more.
"I'll call her," Pedro said apologetically. "She'll be right here, sir."
He went to the door at the right, and shouted quaveringly: "Dolores! Dolores! Dolores!... There, señor, she will come at once."
"And, Pedro—if that rat-infested larder of yours is empty, get it filled before the Duke arrives," added Robledo. "Yes ... the Duke. He is coming to-night. Don't stand and stare, but hurry up and see to my horse."
"Yes, señor!... Yes, yes!"
And he tottered away on his errands.
Dolores had entered in response to the call. At first she did not observe the newcomer, whose back was toward her.
"Yes, father," she began. "Why do you wish me?"