“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.” “He shall never do that, so long as I’m here,” declared the young army man, with quiet confidence. “I don’t think he will, either,” replied Robles. “I have given orders for him to be shot down,” he added grimly, “if he should dare to approach my gates. But I’ll count on you all the same as a second guard to the sanctity of my home.” “You may count on me to the death,” responded Munson, extending his hand. “I know it, and therefore I go away on a necessary duty with an easy mind. But I have good news for you, Munson. I have instructed Sing Ling to prepare luncheon for the ladies of La Siesta every day they choose to come. So, while I prefer you to remain here on guard while I am gone, you need not be lonely. Perhaps you’ll hardly wish me to come back again,” he added with a smile. “Oh, don’t say that. But you’re mighty kind thinking of such things at all.” “Well, you may expect our friends today about one o’clock. Now, goodbye—but not for long.” The library work proceeded but slowly during the hours that followed. Munson was all impatience now for Grace and Merle to arrive. Books were of little account, for there was none ever printed that could rival for him the charm of a certain pair of laughing blue eyes. And it was a self-confessed pseudo man-of-letters who at last rushed to the gateway to greet the fair visitors.