“Tell me about it. I am all attention.” Munson then proceeded to relate in full detail the events of the preceding evening—the surprise visit of Ben Thurston, the brutality of the man, the quick wit of Merle, the escape of Dick Willoughby, and his final message by Tia Teresa that he was safe and, in obedience to Merle’s injunction, was returning to his place of hiding. During the narrative only once did the listener betray emotion; when Thurston’s rude insults were repeated there came a flash into Robles’ eyes, and he clenched his hands to restrain his indignation. But he interrupted with no word, and at the end spoke no comment.
Munson was a little taken aback at this silence and impassivity.
“My story does not seem to surprise you?” he remarked, with a note of interrogation.
“No,” was the quiet reply, “I already knew it.”
“How?” exclaimed Munson, wonderingly.
“You have forgotten, young man, that there is a private telephone between my home here and La Siesta. Mrs. Darlington has already told me about the matter. But I am pleased to have your version, and delighted more than I can tell to know that Merle proved equal to the emergency—that it was she who may be truly said to have saved Dick Willoughby.” There was a ring of pride and admiration in his voice as he spoke the words.
“She’s the real stuff,” cried Munson, enthusiastically.
“It was well done,” continued Mr. Robles, his tone taking a graver note. “For I want to warn you, Munson, as Willoughby’s closest friend, that Ben Thurston or one of his hired assassins will certainly shoot on sight the instant they get the chance to do so. But by the Lord, if anything like that happens, I will hang that villain Thurston to the highest tree in Tejon for the buzzards to pick his bones.” And the upraised hand, the voice vibrating with passionate determination, showed that Ricardo Robles meant just what he said.
Mr. Robles had risen to his feet. For a moment he turned his face away. Then he again spoke, but now in his customary, sedate manner.
“This morning, Mr. Munson, I leave home for a few days. Go on with your work, of course, but remember that it is quite a minor consideration. During my absence I shall rely on you to see that Ben Thurston, on any pretence of searching for Willoughby, does not cross my door.”