"So. That's how the land lies. That accounts for your keeping your suspicions to yourself for two days. It seems to me," and his voice grew hard, "that Lieutenant Gaspar Mozara has had a fish of his own to fry."
"You can keep your taunts, Gabriel. I neither understand them nor appreciate them. I am with you in this matter, body and soul—does not that suffice?"
"It is everything, my dear boy. We won't quarrel. Hate is a good weapon. I hope you have not put the princess out of temper with you?"
"Miranda and I are the best of friends. I thought it better that we should be. We motor together to-morrow morning. Doesn't that suggest anything to you, Gabriel?"
"My dear Gaspar, it suggests so many things that I'm bewildered."
"Will the news of Enrico's relapse reach the town to-night?"
"It's hardly likely—my source of information is a private one."
"I'm calling for the lady at nine. The news mustn't reach Venta Villa before then, or she will be kept in readiness."
For some little time neither of the men spoke, then Dasso leant over and whispered the plot that had occurred to his fertile and evil brain.
"You will call with the car at nine, as arranged. After a spin twice past the villa to allay any suspicion of the girl being long away, you will suggest a run to Alcador. The road is a good one, and you can open out to any speed. About ten miles out you will see—no doubt you know it—a castle, one tower of which shows up from a little forest of pines.