It was Tony Standish who found himself practically ignored by Myra
after dinner that evening, and almost for the first time he began to
feel jealous, really jealous, of Don Carlos de Ruiz. Myra danced three
times with the Spaniard, and "sat out" two more with him in the
conservatory, flagrantly flirting with him, exercising all her powers
of attraction and fascination, continually tempting Don Carlos to break
his promise.
His dark eyes told her that she had fired his heart and set his pulses
throbbing with desire, but no word of love crossed his lips. When they
were dancing together, however, more than once he crushed her close to
his breast, but Myra did not rebuke him, and several times she squeezed
his hand and deliberately brushed his cheek with her hair during a
Tango.
"I rather fancy I am going to justify my boast and take my revenge, and
Don Carlos de Ruiz will learn to his cost that it isn't safe to trifle
with Myra Rostrevor," she reflected. "I suppose I am taking an unfair
advantage, but it serves Don Carlos right."
She was careful to lock and bolt her bedroom door that night before
retiring, and she left a light burning and sat up in bed waiting and
watching expectantly. Two o'clock chimed, and Myra was beginning to
nod drowsily, when a faint sound brought her to sudden wakefulness and
alertness. Someone was trying the door of her bedroom! She saw the
door-handle turn, and she held her breath and listened intently... The
handle turned again ... turned back to its original position.... And
that was all.
Listening with thudding heart, Myra could hear no sound from the other
side of her locked and bolted door, and the handle did not move again.
Slipping out of bed after a few minutes, she stole noiselessly across
the room and, dropping on one knee, put her ear to the keyhole and
listened, but heard no sound save the throbbing of her own heart.
She could not have explained what she expected, hoped, or dreaded to
hear as she crouched there, straining her ears, but it was
characteristic of her that suddenly she laughed aloud.
"So he was conceited enough to think that I would leave my bedroom door
unlocked!" she whispered, as she went back to bed and switched off the
light. "What sort of girl does he take me for? I don't know whether
to feel insulted or amused... But I'm glad I didn't forget to lock and
bolt the door. I wonder..."
Myra snuggled her head down in her pillow, but scarcely had she closed
her eyes when there was a crash against her bedroom door, a shout, and
then a shot, and the sound of more shouting. She sprang up
convulsively, her hands pressed to her breast, screamed involuntarily,
then, recovering herself, switched on the lights, sprung out of bed,
unbolted and unlocked the door, and flung it open--to find Don Carlos
de Ruiz, clad in pyjamas and dressing gown, engaged in a desperate
struggle with a burly, fully-dressed stranger on the floor of the
corridor outside her room.