"I am not blind," said Doña Beatrice. "I can do nothing to the purpose. Pray you be calm." The masked riders had closed round Dominica; in another moment they were over the brow of the slope, and had gone out of sight. One of the guards came to the side of the coach, pushed on by his fellows, and mumbled something inarticulate. "I suppose you to know what you are about," said Doña Beatrice sharply. "Pray do not think me a want-wit. What did Don Diego pay you for this piece of work?" The man was put out of countenance, shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and stammered an unmeaning answer. "You are a fool," said Doña Beatrice. She had resumed her fanning. A movement of the fan beckoned the coachman forward. "Where is my son taking Doña Dominica?" she asked languidly. "Señora--it--I do not know," said the coachman. "You would be better advised to speak the truth," said Doña Beatrice. The coachman looked at her, and seemed to think she might be right. "Señora, to the lodge." "Ah!" said Doña Beatrice. "Who else is there?" "Señora, none but Luis, the valet." "You shock me," said the lady. "I think you had better set yourself to pull the coach out of this stream." CHAPTER XXI The riders hedged Dominica closely about, and struggle as she might there was no withstanding the insistent drag on her bridle. She fought desperately to rein in her horse, but the bridle was wrenched from her straining hands. A cut across the quarters made the frightened animal bound forward. Dominica leaned forward in the saddle to strike passionately at the man who led her. He laughed, bade her be still, and pressed on. She was sobbing with rage, quite powerless, but ready almost to fling herself from the saddle rather than be carried on thus ignominously. "Who are you?" she panted. "What do you want with me? Answer me, you!" No one replied to her question; she looked round wildly at the masked faces: the blank gauze told her nothing. She looked ahead then, to note the way they went, and found that they had left the road, and were pressing on up a slight hill, towards wooded country. They had to check their pace; there were boulders in the way, and overhanging tree-branches above their heads. A rough track led through the forest; as far as Dominica could ascertain they were striking north, towards Vasconosa. A man pushed forward, and came to ride on her other side. Dominica stared at him, saw an elegantly gauntletted hand upon the rein, and smelled the sweet scent of musk. It was not fear that seized her then, but a cold fury that almost bereft her of speech. She struggled for words, rejected what came, and said at last in a voice redolent of scorn:--"You may unmask, my heroic cousin. I have your measure now." He gave a slight laugh, and put up his hand to remove the mask. "Fairest cousin, well-met!" he said, and bowed to her over the saddle-peak.