The Lieutenant glanced round the room until his eyes rested on Myra. A thin little smile came to his sharp-featured face, and he bowed from the waist. “General Fuentes presents his compliments, and wishes you to dine with him,” he said.
Myra lifted her chin. “Will you thank the General and tell him that I have already dined?”
There was a long pause. The Lieutenant stood, the thin smile still on his mouth, his eyes slowly travelling over her with appraising, insolent stare.
Quentin said quietly, “Is that all?”
The Lieutenant ignored him. He said to Myra: “Senorita doesn’t understand. This is—how shall I put it?—a command invitation, yes?”
Quentin eased his way between the Lieutenant and Myra. “Perhaps I could make things a little easier for you, Lieutenant,” he said. “Miss Arnold does not wish to dine with the General. She has already dined and she prefers to stay here under my protection.”
The Lieutenant appeared to see him for the first time. He gave an elaborate start. “Senor would be advised not to interfere in this matter,” he said. “Escaping prisoners are unfortunately shot.” He looked significantly at the two soldiers. “I am sure senorita would not wish to be the cause of such a distressing occurrence?”
Quentin said: “You’re bluffing. Miss Arnold stays here with me.”
Myra suddenly stood up. “No,” she said, “I will go. He is quite right. It would be absurd for you to be hurt because of me. You have important work to do. I will come with you,” she said, turning to the Lieutenant.
At a sign from him, the two soldiers took a step forward, bringing their rifles to the ready.