“I nursed you both,” continued the duenna in a low impassioned voice. “Your people were my people, you children were my very life, and your revenge has come to be my own. So I rejoice that the young ruffian died.” He had seated himself by her side on the divan. “We shall say no more then about that,” he responded. “In some ways I am sorry over the day’s work. At times I find it difficult to reconcile my firmness with my softness.” “But you cannot forget that you are no longer the owner of your father’s lands and flocks, and are virtually childless besides.” She breathed the words with intense repressed fury, intensified as she added: “And all through the accursed gringo who wrecked our happy lives—Rosetta’s, yours, your beloved parents’ as well. While that abominable wretch lives, the vendetta can never end.” For a moment Robles remained silent. Then he spoke resolutely: “I know it, Tia Teresa. Today my work only begins. Rest assured that it will be carried to the bitter finish. For this I have waited all through those long years. But I wanted to tell you of another matter—to warn you of a very serious complication. Dick Willoughby has been arrested for the slaying of Marshall Thurston.” The duenna sat bolt upright in shocked surprise. “Oh, my! What will this mean?” she murmured. “Terrible grief for my little girl—possibly much suffering for him until I choose to take the responsibility upon myself.” “You must not do that.” “No. Not yet, at all events. Or the victory will be his—my enemy’s.” He mused again. She, too, remained silent. At last he broke the spell. “But I have already devised measures for his safety. Now I must go upstairs. They have heard nothing yet?” “Not a word.” “Then I must tell them of the mysterious shooting in the woods, and at the same time reassure Merle that her lover is in no real danger.” “And Mrs. Darlington?” asked Tia Teresa. “How much is she to know?” “Nothing! The vendetta is for us Spaniards. It is ours and ours alone. No one knows of my vow but you and I. Let it remain so. Adios, my dear friend.” In the darkness he stooped and kissed her on both cheeks. For a moment she clung to him, but he gently liberated himself from her embrace. He moved toward the stairway, and Tia Teresa followed him cautiously up to the drawing room door, outside of which she remained. Knowing that she was there, he left the door ajar. The soft music was still playing, but suddenly ceased when Robles advanced into the apartment. “My word, but this is an unexpected pleasure,” exclaimed Merle, as she came from the piano with outstretched hands. He took them both in his own, and bestowed on her a grave but kindly smile. He also nodded to Grace, who had dropped her book and risen in courteous greeting. “But you look sad and serious,” Merle went on, with quick intuition that his coming at this late hour meant something more than a mere neighborly visit. “Something sad and serious has happened,” he replied.