"Senor Pierrepont and I have met before!"
Then deliberately the dark-browed Mexican, who possessed not an element of refinement or gentlemanliness in his entire make-up, turned his back upon the elegant man of the world.
[CHAPTER XXI.]
There was a sensation in the drawing-room over which Mrs. Chalmers presided.
They were not looking at that lady, or they might have seen her pallor under all the artificial color of her complexion, and would certainly have noticed the nervous interlacing of her long fingers as they twined themselves about each other, and the little gasping breath that came through her parted lips.
Carlita alone seemed to retain her absolute composure.
Not a detail of the situation had escaped her, not even the angry compression of Leith Pierrepont's lips as Senor Meriaz turned his back and calmly sauntered to the other side of the room.
Young Beresford laughed constrainedly, feeling that something must be done to lighten the situation.
"'Pon my soul, Pierrepont," he said, in a stage whisper, "if looks were poniards, you wouldn't be alive at this moment. Evidently you didn't hit it off with your friend from Mexico. What was it? One of your usual escapades with a beautiful senorita? His daughter, perhaps?"