Dane afterward wondered why, in place of doing so, she led him on to talk about his comrade; but it was perhaps not unnatural that he should find a certain degree of pleasure in the society of his comely and versatile companion. He knew little of Miss Castro beyond what the purser had told him, and that Maxwell had met her elsewhere; but he was to learn more in due time. She had been educated in some Spanish convent; but, being born on the fever coast, could withstand the climate, and she spent part of her time there in her father's factory, and the rest with her mother's sister in the Canaries. Dom Pedro was assumed to be a tolerably prosperous trader.
An hour had passed before the two came aft together, and on the next opportunity Maxwell took his friend to task.
"It is perhaps time for me to warn you about playing with fire, Hilton," he said. "Miss Castro is certainly pretty, but her people don't understand the game of flirtation as played in England. In all emotional questions they're unpleasantly in earnest. I may remind you that I met the señorita in Africa."
"I have not so far obtruded my advice on you," Dane returned. "Don't you think this——"
"Is an impertinence?" and Maxwell smiled. "Perfectly. I also admit that the rôle of mentor does not become me. Nevertheless, when Miss Castro casually mentioned how she got rid of her last suitor, there was something in her eyes which might have warned an observer. You needn't trouble about a neat rejoinder, because I'll retire, having done my duty."
"I mean to call upon Miss Castro at the Catalina to-morrow. Your warning, however, is superfluous, as it will be the last time I shall see her. She is remaining here."
There was a trace of mischief in Maxwell's smile as he answered.
"I am going with you. You need not express astonishment. She invited me."
It was a sunny afternoon when they went ashore together; but they did not find Miss Castro immediately at her hotel. It appeared that the British tourists and invalids who sojourned in the dusty Spanish city had joined hands with its leading inhabitants over the organization of a gala for the benefit of local institutions, and Miss Castro was playing the part of soothsayer in the cause of charity.
Dane found it pleasant, in spite of the dust, to watch the white mists sliding athwart the great volcanic peaks, and the silvery spray toss beneath the white-walled city. The assembly also was interesting. Gaily uniformed Castilian officer, and British tourist fantastically attired, jostled each other. Dark-skinned, black-haired beauties—pleasant to look upon even when they wore Parisian headgear instead of the national mantilla—in filmy draperies, flitted in and out among young Englishwomen, whose indifferent faces and attire emphasized the contrast between their respective characters; while here and there a matron of their own nation stood surveying the scene with the pitying contempt for everything foreign which too many insular Britons consider impresses the benighted alien. Good music mingled with the merry voices, swish of diaphanous dresses, clank of sabers, and patter of feet, and through all rang the monotone of the sea.