The Marqués bowed. "That is so, señor Don Osmundo."
"But you suggest that it is possible that I might stop him by informing the authorities?"
"No, no," said the Marqués hastily, "I did not suggest that. The authorities would never interfere. The British Embassy might perhaps be persuaded—but you will do me the justice to admit that I apologised for the suggestion."
"Oh, by all means," said Manvers. "You thought pretty badly of me—but not so badly as all that."
"Quite so," said the Marqués; and then the surprising Gil Perez descended from mid-air, and lowed to the stranger.
"My master, Don Osmundo, señor Marqués, is incapable of such conduct," said he—and looked to Manvers for approval.
He struggled with himself, but failed. His guffaw must out, and exploded with violent effect. It drove the Marqués back to the door, and sent Gil Perez scudding on tiptoe to the window.
"You are magnificent, all of you!" cried Manvers. "You flatter me into connivance. Let me state the case exactly. Don Luis is to stab or shoot me at sight, and I am to give him a free hand. Is that what you mean? Admirable. But let me ask you one question. Am I not supposed to protect myself?"
The Marqués stared. "I don't think I perfectly understand you, Don Osmundo. Reprisals are naturally open to you. We declare war, that is all."
"Oh," said Manvers. "You declare war? Then I may go shooting, too?"