“I have strange forebodings this night,” said Mr Thorne to Anita Mendoza, as he stood beside her during an interval in the dance. “I see both you and your sisters are dull, too; your father and Le Brun are as busy as if this were to be the last night of their existence. Anita, I suspect that man—I wish to God your father would trust some foreigner—one native is not better than another, that is, not more secure.”
“Por dios, tell me, Mr Thorne, what do you suspect in Mr Le Brun? Tell me at once; tell me without reserve—it may not be too late yet?”
“I suspect him of being more intimate with the authorities than an honest man can be.”
“He allows he has influence with them, Mr Thorne; my father has the utmost confidence in him—their interests are bound up together; may he not honestly exert what influence he has for my father’s safety?”
“How can he have influence with them except he lends himself to their schemes and plots? Even were he honest in his intentions to secure Mendoza’s interests—and God forbid that he be not!—who can say that his influence will outweigh the value of Mendoza’s doubloons and lands?”
“Mr Thorne,” said Anita, during another interval in the dance, “I know that Señor Le Brun will now use every effort in his power to secure my father and his interests. Have you—I beg you—I beg you most earnestly to answer me distinctly and at once, for we have not one moment to spare—have you any positive knowledge of Le Brun’s acting a dishonourable part, of his being a spy in fact?”
“I have not.”
“Is he suspected of being so in the town?”
“As far as I know, he is not.”
“What are your reasons for suspecting him in respect to my father?”