‘It is not so surprising as you think.’
‘Oh!’
There was no mistaking Larralde’s manner, and the Englishman’s gay blue eyes hardened suddenly and rather surprisingly.
‘No, I have followed you. I want that letter.’
‘Well, as it happens, Señor Larralde, I have not got your letter, and if I had I am not quite sure that I would give it to you. Your conduct in the matter has not been over-nice, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t think much of a man who gets strangers and women to do his dirty work for him.’
Larralde stroked his moustache with a half-furtive air of contempt.
‘I should have given the confounded letter to the Alcalde of Ronda if it had not been that a lady would have suffered for it, and let you take your chance, Señor Larralde.’
Larralde shrugged his shoulders.
‘You would not have given it to the Alcalde of Ronda,’ he said in a sneering voice, ‘because you want it yourself. You require it in order to make your peace with Estella Vincente.’
‘We are not going to talk of Señorita Vincente,’ said Conyngham quietly. ‘You say you followed me because you wanted that letter. It is not in my possession. I left it in the house of Colonel Monreal at Xeres. If you are going on to Madrid, I think I will sit down here and have a cigarette. If, on the other hand, you propose resting here, I shall proceed, as it is getting late.’