“Ah, senhor,” she exclaimed, “the senhorita!”
The master of the villa grasped her by both shoulders.
“You knew of this, Perdita,” he said sternly.
“No, senhor, no; I assure you I know nothing.”
“Jennings tells me he saw your friend with Miss Eleanor.”
“I know not what you mean, senhor,” Perdita disclaimed excitedly; and then, falling back for fluency on her native tongue, she poured forth a torrent of protestations. Her efforts, however, plainly failed to convince Mr. Inglefield. Apparently he entertained the same distrust of her race as did Mr. Keegan, for he leaned wearily against the wall, and motioned her to cease.
“That will do, Perdita,” he said, whereupon the senhora found relief in tears.
The wall about Mr. Inglefield’s villa was so hard and uneven, and Mr. Keegan was becoming so cramped in his position, that he was thinking of letting himself down on the inside when Jennings was heard returning. He was accompanied by two or three Portuguese from the convent, but, to Mr. Keegan’s great relief, was without the sled. When the circumstance of the liberty party became known to Mr. Inglefield, he said a great many things Mr. Keegan expected him to say, but he added a few remarks about Pennington which Mr. Keegan had not anticipated. Finally the denunciation of that gentleman became so vigorous that Mr. Keegan could stand it no longer.
“He is a sneaking scoundrel!” declared Mr. Inglefield.
Here Mr. Keegan slid down from the wall, and approached the irate but astonished father with a somewhat rolling but easy gait. He carefully looked him over, from force of habit perhaps, before accosting him.