Benicia stood up very straight, and her eyes had still a curious gleam in them. "Then there is nothing more to be said. It seems you will not listen to any suggestion I can make—and, perhaps, you are right."
She spread out her hands in a vaguely forceful fashion as she turned from him and moved towards the door, but before she reached it she stopped and glanced at him again. Ormsgill who set his lips tight said nothing at all. Then there was a sound of footsteps outside, and Dom Clemente, who appeared in the entrance, stood still looking at them curiously. It was a moment or two before he turned to Benicia.
"Ah," he said, "I did not know you were here until a few minutes ago and I will not keep you now. I think the Señora is waiting for you."
He stood aside when she swept past him and vanished with a rustle of filmy draperies. Then he turned to Ormsgill.
"Señor," he said, "I am inclined to fancy that you have something to say to me."
The blood rose to Ormsgill's face, and his voice was strained. It was an almost intolerable duty that was laid upon him.
"I am afraid your surmise is not correct," he said. "I have nothing to say."
Dom Clemente let one hand drop on the hilt of his sword. "Señor," he said, "I am informed by my Secretary that the Señorita Benicia Figuera has obtained certain concessions concerning you from a man whose authority we submit to. You are, it seems, to be treated with every consideration, and he will investigate the complaints made against you personally. That," and he made a little impressive gesture, "is evidently the result of the Señorita Benicia's efforts on your behalf. I am here to ask you why she has made them?"
Ormsgill looked at him steadily, though it cost him an effort to answer.
"I have the honor of the Señorita's acquaintance," he said. "It seems she is one who does what she can for her friends. I can offer no other explanation."