Bandit Love

Don Carlos's eyebrows rose still higher, his lips twitched, and Tony

Standish got the impression that it was only with difficulty he was

refraining from laughing outright. That angered him, and his ruddy

face became still redder.

"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" he demanded, after a pause.

"This is no laughing matter."

"My dear Mr. Standish, what can I say for myself?" Don Carlos retorted,

quietly and gravely. "Your demand for an explanation places me in a

most embarrassing position. How should one answer in the

circumstances. If Miss Rostrevor has told you I have been making love

to her, I cannot deny the accusation without casting doubt on the word

of the most charming and beautiful girl in the world. Yet if I admit

that Miss Rostrevor is justified in her accusation, you may decide I

have been acting dishonourably, and I shall lose your friendship.

Condenacion! Was ever man placed in such an awkward position!"

"Look here, you will certainly make matters worse if you dare to

insinuate that Myra was not telling the truth," exclaimed Standish

hotly.

"I quite appreciate that, my dear Mr. Standish, and I realise, also,

that Miss Rostrevor would be justified in hating me if I dared to cast

doubt on her assertions," said Don Carlos more gravely than ever, with

a sigh and a shrug. "So I must, perforce, confess that I have been

making persistent love to Miss Rostrevor ever since I first met her,

and--well, I am quite prepared to take the consequences. How do you

deal with such a situation in England? In my country we would fight a

duel, and the lady would marry the survivor. Should you think of

fighting a duel, however, Mr. Standish, it is only fair to warn you

that I am an expert swordsman and a dead shot. How shall we deal with

the matter?"

Baffled, and at a loss to know how to deal with the situation, Tony

Standish glowered at him, with the uncomfortable sensation that he was

making a fool of himself, and that Don Carlos was inwardly laughing at

him.

"It isn't a matter to jest about," he said stiffly. "That sort of

thing isn't done in England, and I must ask you to refrain from

approaching Miss Rostrevor again."

"I am desolated, señor!" exclaimed Don Carlos, with a despairing

gesture. "I find it difficult to understand the English

conventionalities in the matter of love-making. If you were Spanish,

my dear Standish, you would not complain of my making love to your

betrothed unless you were unsure of her and were afraid of my winning

her away from you. If you regard me as a dangerous rival, and the

adorable Miss Rostrevor takes me seriously, and you are afraid----"