He reached down and lifted one of the lids. As he glanced within he uttered an exclamation of astonishment. The box was almost filled with bottles, lying regularly on their sides.
“Wine!” he cried. “Now, Miss—I don’t remember to have heard your name—I shall be able to relieve your thirst.”
“My name is Travers—Mildred Travers, sir; but I can’t drink wine.”
“Not to quench your thirst—just a few swallows?” he asked, taking a bottle and trying to remove the cork.
“Not a drop, even to save my life,” she replied positively.
“But I will, Señor Runyon—I will!” cried Inez eagerly.
“Runyon!” exclaimed Mildred, stepping back in amazement and looking at the man rather wildly.
“Excuse me; haven’t I introduced myself?” he asked, looking up. “Yes; my name’s Runyon.”
Something in her expression arrested his gaze and he regarded the girl curiously.
“Bulwer Runyon?” she said in a low voice.