"To keep my word," and his white teeth gleamed in an effort at pleasantness. "I am always truthful with your sex; and I told you I would return shortly."
"Yet why?" she insisted, anxious only to keep him away as long as possible, and yet enchain his interest. "If I am prisoner here, I am not your prisoner. Do you come, then, to serve me?"
"Can you doubt that, señorita?" still endeavouring to retain the mask he had first assumed. "Because circumstances make me defy the law—a mere love of adventure, no more—is no reason why I should be devoid of heart and sympathy." He took a step nearer. "Since leaving here I have questioned the men who brought you, and learned why you were made prisoner. I care nothing for this Bill Lacy—nothing," and he snapped his fingers derisively. "Why should I? But, instead, I would be your friend."
"You mean your purpose is to aid me to escape?"
He bowed low.
"It would be my great happiness to do so. There is danger, yet what is danger to Juan Cateras? 'Tis only part of my life. The señorita is an American, and to her one of my race may not appeal, yet I would prove my devotion with my life."
"Your devotion, señor!"'
"Is not the word expressive! Though I have seen you but once before, my heart is already devoted to your interest. I am of a Southern race, señorita, and we do not calculate—we feel. Why, then, should I conceal my eagerness? It is love which causes me to thus defy all and offer you freedom."
"Love!" she laughed. "Why, that is impossible. Surely you only jest, señor."
The smile deserted his lips, and with a quick, unexpected movement he grasped her hand.