The Venezuelan saw the figure he presented. Back of him were hundreds of years of Spanish traditions, in his veins was the blood of generations of ancestors by nature suspicious, doubting, jealous. From their viewpoint he was within his rights; they applauded, they gave him countenance; but by the frank contempt of the young man before him his self-respect was being rudely handled. Not even to himself could he justify his attitude.
“In my country,” he protested, “according to our customs, it was enough.”
The answer satisfied and relieved Roddy. It told him all he wished to know. It was now evident that Vega’s agent had seen only the first meeting, that he was not aware that Inez followed after Roddy, or that the next morning by the seashore they had again met. The American brought the interview to an abrupt finish.
“I refuse,” said Roddy loftily, “to discuss this matter with you further. If the mother of Señorita Rojas wishes it, I shall be happy to answer any questions she may ask. I have done nothing that requires explanation or apology. I am responsible to no one. Good-night.”
“Wait!” commanded Vega. “You will find that here you cannot so easily avoid responsibilities. You have struck me. Well, we have other customs, which gentlemen——”
“I am entirely at your service,” said Roddy. He made as magnificent a bow as though he himself had descended from a line of Spanish grandees. Vega’s eyes lit with pleasure. He was now playing a part in which he felt assured he appeared to advantage. He almost was grateful to Roddy for permitting him to reëstablish himself in his own esteem.
“My friends shall wait upon you,” he said.
“Whenever you like,” Roddy answered. He started up the deck and returned again to Vega. “Understand me,” he whispered, “as long as I’m enjoying the hospitality of your country I accept the customs of your country. If you’d made such a proposition to me in New York I’d have laughed at you.” Roddy came close to Vega and emphasized his words with a pointed finger. “And understand this! We have quarrelled over politics. You made an offensive remark about Alvarez; I defended him and struck you. You now demand satisfaction. That is what happened. And if you drag the name of any woman into this I won’t give you satisfaction. I will give you a thrashing until you can’t stand or see.”
Roddy found Peter in the smoking-room, and beckoning him on deck, told him what he had done.
“You’re a nice White Mouse!” cried Peter indignantly. “You’re not supposed to go about killing people; you’re supposed to save lives.”