"Juanita? She is in London. Guarez sent her up this morning to find out about Da Costa. She is to come back by the last train."
"I am afraid we shall miss her, then," said I. "We must leave here in ten minutes. Can you be ready, Mercia?"
"Yes, yes; I am ready. I have only to put a few things in my bag. But how are we going? Where are you taking me?"
"The car is outside," I replied. "I'll explain everything when we've started. I've got a few words to say to Señor Rojas first."
"You are going to kill him?" she asked dispassionately.
I shook my head, smiling. "No, Mercia," I said. "Not at present. He makes life so interesting, I really couldn't spare him."
"It would be best," she said simply. "And Guarez as well."
There was a childish candour about her point of view that appealed to me immensely.
"Well, you're right, of course," I said; "but they are so absurdly sensitive on these points in England. If it was San Luca, one might be reasonable."
Taking her hand, I led her into the hall, and at the foot of the stairs I drew her into my arms, and kissed her again on the mouth and hair and eyes before I let her go.