“What is it, Baptisto?”
“You have arranged that I shall go with you to-morrow, but I have had during the last few days an attack of my old vertigo. Can you possibly dispense with my attendance, senor?” Haldane stared in surprise at the Spaniards face, which was inscrutable as usual.
“Do you mean to say you wish to remain at home?”
“Certainly, senor.”
“Why? because you are ill? On the contrary, you look in excellent health. No; it is impossible. I cannot get along without you.”
And Haldane returned to his papers as if the matter was ended.
Baptisto, however, did not budge, but remained in the same position, with his dark eyes fixed upon his master.
“Do me this favour, senor. I am really indisposed, and must beg to remain.”
Haldane laughed, for an idea suddenly occurred to him which seemed to explain the mystery of his servant’s request.
“My good Baptisto, I think I understand the cause of your complaint, and I am sure a little travel will do you good. It is that dark-eyed widow of the lodge-keeper who attaches you so much to the Manor. The warm blood of Spain still burns in your veins, and, despite your sad experience of women, you are still impressionable. Eh? am I right?”