“For the emeralds,” faltered Hervey weakly.
“For the emeralds!” echoed the lady scornfully. “Sir Frank is rich. He does not need to steal to have much money. He is a gentleman, who does not murder, as you have done.”
Hervey started to his feet, dismayed but defiant, and saw that he was ringed with unfriendly faces.
“As I have done. Why, I am—”
Donna Inez interrupted.
“You are a murderer. I truly believe that you—yes, that you” she pointed a scornful finger at him “killed this poor man who was bringing the mummy to the Professor. If you were in my own country, I should have you lashed like the dog you are. Pig of a Yankee, vile scum of the—”
“That will do, Inez,” said De Gayangos imperiously. “We wish to make this gentleman tell the truth, and this is not the way to go about the matter.”
“Gentleman,” echoed the angry Peruvian, “he is none. Truth! There is no truth in him, the pig of pigs!” and then, her English failing, she took refuge in Spanish, which is a fairly comprehensive language for swearing in a polite way. The words fairly poured from her mouth, and she looked as fierce as Bellona, the goddess of war.
Archie, listening to her words and watching her beautiful face distorted out of all loveliness, secretly congratulated himself upon the fact that he was not her prospective bridegroom. He wondered how Sir Frank, who was a mild, good-tempered man himself, could dare to make such a fiery female Lady Random.
Perhaps the young man thought himself that she was going a trifle too far, for he touched her nervously on the arm. At once the anger of Donna Inez died down, and she submitted to be led to a chair, whispering as she went, “It was for your sake, my angel, that I was angry,” she said, and then relapsed into silence, watching all future proceedings with flashing eyes but compressed mouth.