“But my father.” Rafaela’s little foot in its tiny black slipper was tapping on the flagstones. “But my father, why did he not return?”
There was a scarcely perceptible pause before Pedro replied. Then he said: “He has work to do.”
“Pedro, there is something you are keeping back from me,” declared Rafaela firmly. “Tell me. Where is my father now?”
Shrugging, Pedro spread out his hands, but he did not answer.
Jack thought he understood. Stepping forward impetuously, he laid a hand on Pedro’s shoulder, and faced him. “Look here,” he said. “No tricks. If anything has happened to—”
Pedro glared blackly, but Rafaela laughed.
“Oh, Jack, you are so—so funny,” she declared. “You mustn’t suspect Pedro. He is my father’s most trusted man.” And to Pedro, she said soothingly: “This gentleman didn’t understand, Pedro. He but worries about my father. If he knew, he would not hurt your feelings.”
Pedro made a slight bow to Jack. “I forgive the young Senor’s mistake,” he said.
Jack sighed and shook his head. “But, Rafaela, what then?”
“You do not know my father,” she explained. “I fear he has done something rash and ordered Pedro not to tell me for fear I would be worried. Is it not so, Pedro?”