"What game?" asked Alice, looking at his malicious face with distaste.
Narvaez chuckled wickedly. "You know, yet you don't know," he rejoined enigmatically. "When you are my wife this problem will be explained to you."
"I shall never be your wife."
"Indeed you shall and your lover's fortune shall be restored to your father, who ought to have it. There are wheels within wheels, my dear girl, and much is going on of which you are ignorant."
"I daresay," said Alice firmly, "you are capable of any wickedness. But it is impossible for you to harm me or Douglas. You forget that we have a friend in Dr. Eberstein."
The Spaniard's wrinkled face grew black, and he looked like a wicked little gnome bent upon mischief. "I defy Eberstein and his silly power," he said shrilly. "He can do much, but I can do more. No one can hurt me."
"Job can and Job will, Señor Narvaez. You don't know the tempers of our West Country men. Already he is dangerous, and if you do not leave Rose alone he will break your neck."
"My neck is not so easily broken," retorted Don Pablo tartly. "I am not so feeble as my appearance warrants. There are other ways than those of mere brute force by which I can defend myself. Eberstein—pouf!" he snapped his fingers in disdain. "Job Trevel—pouf!" he repeated the action; "but Montrose," he added with a sudden change of tone, and raising his voice so that some women working in a near depression of the ground heard him. "I am afraid of Montrose. He may kill me."
"You are talking rubbish," said Alice, startled by the meaning hate in his tones. "Douglas scarcely knows you."