"What have you done to alienate him? Don’t you know that although he can be a true friend—and he wishes above all things to be one—he can also be a much more powerful enemy?" There was no mistaking her tone now for any but one of solicitude for me. What had he been telling her? "I should have made poor use of my intercourse with him if I did not know that," I answered. "But will you tell me exactly what you mean?" "No—I cannot; except that you have angered him sorely in some way, and if you are not careful will stand in great danger." "That must be as it will, senorita. But I was wrong to put that question to you. I should rather put it to your brother himself, and I will do so." "Could you not leave Spain for a while?" At that moment we heard the sounds of someone in the hall outside the room; and the senorita drew a quick breath, bit her lip, and turned to listen. "That is Sebastian. Oh, senor, be careful, and do what he may suggest to you; be advised by him. You have rendered us such a service he will not forget it, of course he never can. But do not anger him. I too am your friend; and I can help you. Do, do let us be your friends. I can do much with him, and for my sake he will, I know, do what he can. When I think of your possible danger, it strikes me to the heart; it kills me. Let me beg of you," and her agitation was so great that she was scarcely coherent. "But there is one thing you must not try to thwart him in. Oh, I scarcely know what I am saying," and she wrung her hands in such manifest distress that I was deeply surprised. "I am in no danger, senorita," I answered calmly, to reassure her. "But if I should be, the knowledge of your warning and of your offer of help will always be a welcome thought." To my yet deeper surprise my words appeared to affect her profoundly, and she seized my hand and pressed her lips upon it, the tears in her eyes. Scarcely a reassuring preface for my interview with her brother, who entered the room a moment later. He gave me a sharp, penetrating look, glanced, I thought angrily, at his sister, and exclaimed in a tone of surprise, "Dolores!" and then, after a pause, "You had better leave us." He held the door for her to leave, and as he closed it behind her he turned to me and said, with a questioning frown on his forehead— "Are you here as a friend, or in what capacity?" "I have much to say to you," I returned calmly. "And we can best ask and answer that question mutually when the interview is over." I met his look with one as firm as his own, and he sat down at his writing-table and waited for me to open the ball. *CHAPTER XVII* *WAR TO THE KNIFE* I did not keep Sebastian Quesada waiting, but plunged at once into my business.