Dolores was not so wide of the mark. It was recollection of the events of the preceding night that had brought the burning blush to Myra's cheeks, and the thought of the interpretation the old woman might have put on what she had seen and heard. "Just as well, perhaps, that she does not understand English, as she was probably eavesdropping all the time," thought Myra. She was amazed that she should have been able to sleep soundly after her emotional ordeal, until she remembered that when at last Don Carlos had desisted in his attempt to make her surrender herself voluntarily and had left her, Madre Dolores had reappeared and insisted upon her drinking something out of a glass. The "something" was a sweet and pungent cordial, which probably contained some soporific drug. When the mists of sleep cleared away completely from her mind, Myra found it difficult to analyse her feelings, but her predominant emotion was resentment against the man who had made love to her so lawlessly and had almost imposed his will on her. Mingled with her resentment was something akin to fear, the haunting dread that her ordeal of the previous night might be a prelude to something worse. The hot flush of shame stained her fair face again as she realised she had been on the very verge of surrendering herself. "I hate him! I hate him!" Myra told herself as she dressed. "I'll kill myself rather than confess I love him, and let him gloat over his conquest.... What should I do? Should I promise to marry him on condition that he takes me back to-day, and then denounce him to the authorities when we reach the Castle? That would be something like treachery, but it was treachery on his part to kidnap me while I was his guest.... I shall wait and see how he behaves before deciding." She had to wait longer than she anticipated, for she found that "El Diablo Cojuelo" had left his stronghold. Failing to make herself understood, Dolores fetched an old man who looked like a comic opera pirate and who could speak a little English. "El bueno maestro--the boss--he go away sun-up but will come back pretty-dam-quick, yes, I think," the man explained, with many bows and smiles. Actually it was not English he spoke but a queer mixture of Spanish and American. "The boss Cojuelo, he makka the business with the Ingles at El Castillo de Ruiz. You no need to have the fear, senorita. You alla right, yes, sure aqui. I spik the Ingles all right--yes? Vos comprender? Bein! The boss, the maestro, he come back all right, senorita. Yes, allaright, tank you ver' much, please!" Left alone in the outer room, Myra walked up and down restlessly, wondering why he had gone back to the Castillo de Ruiz. The idea of attempting to escape occurred to her, and, after satisfying herself she was not being watched, she went to the cunningly-contrived door which seemed to be part of the wall of rock.