"I want to see Juanita de Mogente," said the Count. "It is unusual, I know, but in this place you are all-powerful. It is important, or I should not ask it."
"She is in bed. They go to bed at eight o'clock."
"I know. Is not that all the better? She has a room to herself, I recollect. You can arouse her and bring her to me and no one need know that she has had a visitor--except, I suppose, the peeping eyes that haunt a nunnery corridor."
He gave a shrug of the shoulder.
"Mother of God!" he exclaimed. "The air of secrecy infects one. I am not a secretive man. All the world knows my opinions. And here am I plotting like a friar. Can I see Juanita?"
And he laughed quietly as he looked at his sister.
"Yes, I suppose so."
He nodded his thanks.
"And, Dolores, listen!" he said. "Let me see her alone. It may save complications in the future. You understand?"
Sor Teresa turned in the doorway and looked at him.