“Three days ago Sampayo offered to take any oath I pleased that he would never marry Miralda; and this morning on the _Rampallo_ he told me he had all but gone on his knees to Barosa, to induce him to set Miralda free from all this, in order that I might be induced to leave the country.” She began to understand me now. The catch of the breath, the dilating nostrils, the quick movement of the head, and the involuntary gripping of the hands, were signs as easy to read as print. “Within the last hour or two, here in this room, I offered to write all that he needs if Miralda and I were put across the frontier. He refused. I asked myself--why? I ask you the same question?” In the pause she sat gnawing her lip; her bosom rose and fell quickly under the strain of her quickened breathing; her colour began to wane; her brows were drawn together in a frown, and the pupils of those curious eyes of hers dilated as if her pent-up feeling had acted upon them like atropine. “Why do you tell me this?” she repeated, her voice down almost to a whisper. “This morning Sampayo swore to me that his betrothal to Miralda was a sham and a pretence, never intended to culminate in marriage, but only meant to cover another man’s plans and passion.” “Why do you tell me this?” she asked, for the third time. “Because Manoel Barosa is the man you love.” She winced as if I had struck her in the face, and for a few seconds sat speechless and overwrought. Then with a great effort she mastered her emotion and laughed. “It is all false, all ridiculous, all laughable.” “Then why will he not let Miralda go?” “I have told you we are not preventing her.” “Ah, stop that pretence. If you will not answer that question to me, answer it to yourself.” But she had regained her self-command, and concealed all sign of the jealousy I knew I had roused. “She shall come to you herself and tell you that what I say is true,” she said. She went to the door, paused, and then turned. “You have done yourself an ill turn by this. Until now I have been your friend,” she said, clipping her words short in her anger; and with that she went out. I cared nothing for her anger. I knew that I had started a fire which would soon rage furiously enough to burn up Barosa’s scheme in regard to Miralda. The question I had told Inez to put to herself was one to which the roused devil of her jealousy would soon supply the answer; and when it was answered, Barosa would have his hands full in looking after himself. Moreover, I was now all but convinced that the whole show of force had been nothing more than an ingenious and well-acted bluff. Barosa had realized that without my help he could not get Gompez and his companions set at liberty, and it was quite probable that he had been to Captain Bolton. I smiled as I thought of the reception he would meet with from the old skipper.