Donna Maria heaved a long sigh, and the colour began to come back slowly to her cheeks. Then she opened her eyes languidly and sat up with an effort. Torry had been judicious enough to put the image into his pocket again, and, at the first moments of her recovery, Maria could not collect her scattered senses sufficiently to remember what had occurred. All at once the memory came back, and, flushing a deep crimson, she staggered to her feet, and made as if to leave the room. Torry placed himself in her way.
"No, madam," said he, sternly, "you do not leave until you explain."
"Excuse me, sir, I am not well," faltered Maria appealingly.
But the detective was not to be moved by such feminine wiles, "You must remain and answer my questions," he said coldly.
"Torry," cried Frank, who was moved by the obvious distress of the girl, "this lady is ill. You can question her another time."
"I intend to question her now."
"You shall not do so unless she consents."
"Oh," said Torry, sneering, "of course, if Miss Sandoval is afraid--"
"I afraid?" interrupted Maria, her courage and coolness coming back at the contemptuous word. "Enough, sir. I shall remain and answer any questions you choose to put to me."
She seated herself like a queen about to receive the homage of courtiers, but found time to flash a glance of gratitude on Darrel for his championship. The young man felt his pulses thrill at the look in those glorious dark eyes, and sat down with rapidly-beating pulses. Torry the cold-blooded, long past the age of sentiment, merely nodded in dry approval of the lady's sense, and produced his notebook in order to set down her replies.