“Where is Dick Willoughby? It was he who was wearing these damned clothes.” And he flung the garments on the rug before her. “No swearing, please,” said Munson, tapping him on the shoulder. “To hell! Who wouldn’t swear? Where is the man I’m after?” “An innocent man,” exclaimed Merle, rising to her feet and proudly folding her arms. “Looks like it—breaking jail and hiding in the hills,” sneered Thurston. “He is nothing but a murderer and an outlaw. And I’m going to get him, dead or alive.” “Then catch him if you can,” cried Merle, pointing toward the door that opened on the portico. Under the girl’s fearless gaze Ben Thurston wilted. Baffled, humiliated, speechless in his impotent rage, he allowed the sleuth to take him by the arm and hustle him from the scene. CHAPTER XXV—Love and Revenge BEYOND the oleanders a tall thick hedge of cypress favored the flight of the fugitive. At the end of the gardens Tia Teresa took a little path that dipped into the river bed, and when they ascended again out of the hollow, Dick found himself quite close to the grove where Pierre was in hiding with the ponies. By this time the young fellow was angry with himself for having fled so precipitately. He was full of solicitude for Merle. Why had not he remained to defend her from the brutality of that ruffian, Ben Thurston? This was the question that was now making him both ashamed and anxious. “Hush!” The caution came from Pierre, and showed that the Frenchman was alive to what had happened. “I saw ze automobile rush by,” he whispered. “We will ride across country, so zat it cannot follow us.” He pointed in the direction he would go. “Not yet,” replied Dick, determinedly. “I’m off back to the house to see that they are all safe there.” “No, no, Mr. Willoughby,” protested the duenna earnestly. “You heard what Miss Merle said—she is afraid of that raging old man. Besides I know. He has vowed that he and his hired gunmen will shoot you on sight. For my little girl’s sake you must not go back,” she implored. “Besides your word of honor is pledged to me,” added Luzon. “You must return wiz me. I have your parole.” “Parole be hanged,” muttered Dick between his teeth. The old Frenchman laid a kindly hand on the young man’s shoulder. “No, no. Monsieur is a man of honor. And honor comes before love—always.” “If you love her,” insisted Tia Teresa, “you will save yourself tonight. We will look after her. You need not worry on her account.” Dick for the moment was silenced, but unconvinced. “Well, at all events we’ll wait a bit. I don’t leave this spot till I’m sure that Ben Thurston himself has cleared.” “All right,” assented Pierre. “Stay where you are, Tia Teresa. You must not be seen. Zey may be searching in ze gardens.” Even as he spoke there was the flash of a lantern among the rose bushes.