Jarvis. Pile the bags up there, Rusty. (Put bags on table l.)
Rusty. Yas, sir.
Jarvis. Looks like we were in for a warm reception.
Rusty. Yas, sir, 'tis a trifle warm. (Crosses below table l., back to audience.)
Dolores. Pardon, Senor. Her Highness wishes me to tell you that she will be down directly.
Jarvis. Thank you, Senorita, and who, may I ask, was the cheerful individual that flattered me with such a toast?
Dolores. (At c., looking after Robledo—crosses to Jarvis) Don Robledo, Senor.
Jarvis. Don Robledo—sounds dangerous, but doesn't mean much to me.
Dolores. It may mean much before you reach the castle. Let me tell you something. Quick, your hand, Senor! No, the other one. (Grasps his hand.) I'll pretend to read your palm. Every one of those breaks in your life-line means a moment when you stood face to face with death, and yet, see those little squares of protection around each break! Senor American, there is one break which you have not yet reached, and the protecting square is not perfect like the others.
Jarvis. I reckon that square will take care of itself when the time comes.