“Surely I don’t, Iñez.”
“That’s strange—a mystery. Might it be regret at leaving behind your preux chevaliers of California—that grand, gallant De Lara, whom, at our last interview, we saw sprawling in the road dust? You ought to feel relieved at getting rid of him, as I of my importunate suitor, the Señor Calderon. By the way, I wonder whatever became of them! Only to think of their never coming near us to say good-bye! And that nothing was seen or heard of them afterwards! Something must have happened. What could it have been! I’ve tried to think, but without succeeding.”
“So I the same. It is indeed very strange; though I fancy father heard something about them, which he does not wish to make known to us. You remember what happened after we’d left the house—those men coming to it in the night. Father has an idea they intended taking his gold, believing it still there. What’s more, I think he half suspects that of the four men—for there appears to have been four of them—two were no other than our old suitors, Francisco de Lara and Faustino Calderon.”
She had almost said sweethearts, but the word has a suggestion of pain.
“Maria de Merced!” exclaims Iñez. “It’s frightful to think of such a thing. We ought to be thankful to that good saint for saving us from such villains, and glad to get away from a country where their like are allowed to live.”
“Sobrina, you’ve touched the point. The very thought that’s been distressing me is the remembrance of those men. Even since leaving San Francisco, as before we left, I’ve had a strange heaviness on my heart—a sort of boding fear—that we haven’t yet seen the last of them. It haunts me like a spectre. I can’t tell why, unless it be from what I know of De Lara. He’s not the man to submit to that ignominious defeat of which we were witnesses. Be assured he will seek to avenge it. We expected a duel, and feared it. Likely there would have been one, but for the sailing of the English ship. Still that won’t hinder such a desperate man as De Lara from going after Edward, and trying to kill him any way he can. I have a fear he’ll follow him—is after him now.”
“What if he be? Your fiancé can take care of himself. And so can mine, if Calderon should get into his silly head to go after him. Let them go, so long as they don’t come after us; which they’re not likely—all the way to Spain.”
“I’m not so sure of that. Such as they may make their way anywhere. Professional gamblers—as we know them to be—travel to all parts of the world. All cities give them the same opportunity to pursue their calling—why not Cadiz? But, Iñez, there’s something I haven’t told you, thinking you might make mock of it. I’ve had a fright more than once—several times, since we came aboard.”
“A fright! what sort of a fright?”
“If you promise not to laugh at me, I’ll tell you.”