Bandit Love

"Thank you," said Myra, greatly interested. "I thought brigands were a

thing of the past, and what you have told me makes me long to visit

Spain. It would be tremendously thrilling to be captured and held to

ransom by a Spanish brigand."

"Dear lady, if you were captured by El Diablo Cojuelo, all the riches

of the Indies would not ransom you," Don Carlos responded, with a smile

that showed a double row of gleaming white teeth. "Cojuelo is a

connoisseur of feminine beauty, and were he fortunate enough to capture

you, I feel certain nothing would induce him to part with you."

"There must certainly be the equivalent of a Blarney Stone in Spain,"

laughed Myra, nodding good-bye and turning away to rejoin her friends.

She met Don Carlos de Ruiz again that night at Lady Trencrom's dance,

looking handsome and distinguished in full evening kit, with medals and

orders in miniature glinting on his left lapel and a jewelled

decoration on his breast. He recognised her instantly, and made his

way masterfully through the crowd that surrounded her at the first

interval.

"I shall have the pleasure of the next dance with you, Miss Rostrevor?"

he said, and it struck Myra that his words were more by way of being an

assertion than a question or a request.

"Indeed, señor, and you won't," she retorted in her soft Irish voice.

"I'm dancing the next with my fiancé, Mr. Tony Standish. Here he is

coming now... Tony, my dear, this is Don Carlos de Ruiz, who plays

polo like an angel."

"Didn't know that angels played polo, but I'm pleased to meet you, Don

Carlos," drawled Standish. "Frightful crush, isn't it?"

"Miss Rostrevor was going to dance the next number with me, Mr.

Standish, but suddenly remembered she had promised to dance with you,"

said Don Carlos, with smiling sang-froid, as he shook hands. "If you

would be so good as to resign your right in my favour--"

He paused with a questioning glance at Tony, who looked a trifle

bewildered.

"Why--er--of course, if Miss Rostrevor so wishes," Tony said, just as

the band struck up; and before Myra quite realised what was happening

she found herself gliding round the room in the arms of Don Carlos.

"You certainly are not lacking in nerve, señor, and you apparently have

no regard for the truth," she commented, recovering from her

astonishment. "I never said I was going to dance with you."