A few hours later Myra was one of a fashionable and interested crowd
watching the polo at Hurlingham. An exciting match was in progress,
and Myra cried out enthusiastically as one of the players, after a
thrilling mêlée, made a splendid shot, followed up, beat the defence,
and scored a magnificent goal.
"Oh, well played, sir, well played!" Myra exclaimed enthusiastically,
clapping her hands. "Who is he, Jimmy?" she added, turning to her
escort, who was also applauding. "Do you know him?"
"I was introduced to him at a dinner at the Spanish Legation the other
evening," her friend answered. "He's Governor of a Province, or
something of the sort, in Spain, and a most interesting chap. Told me
he spends most of his time out there hunting brigands and outlaws.
Speaks English perfectly, and is good-looking enough to be a film star.
Mentioned that he played polo and hoped to get a game to-day, but
didn't hint that he was a star performer. I've got a rotten memory for
names, but he's called Don Carlos de something-or-other." He consulted
his programme. "Ah! here we are! Don Carlos de Ruiz.... Look! he's
on the ball again. Well hit indeed, sir!"
At the end of the game Myra, at her own request, was introduced to Don
Carlos de Ruiz, who was smilingly receiving the congratulations of
English friends on his splendid play. At close quarters she found him
to be a man of about thirty-five, very handsome, with clean-cut
features, pale complexion, jet-black hair with a natural crinkle in it,
and dark, inscrutable eyes that gleamed like black diamonds.
"Delighted to meet you, señor," said Myra, deciding at first glance he
was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen. "Congratulations
on the win. You played wonderfully."
"I am flattered and honoured, Miss Rostrevor," said Don Carlos, bowing
low over her hand. "Praise from the most beautiful woman in England is
praise indeed!"
He kissed her finger-tips, and Myra was conscious of an unusual thrill
as she involuntarily jerked her hand away.
"Obviously you have the equivalent of a Blarney Stone in Spain, Don
Carlos," she commented with a laugh, looking up into the bold dark eyes
that were regarding her with undisguised admiration. "Do you play much
polo in your own country, señor?"
"Alas, no!" Don Carlos answered. "My home is in the wilds of the
Sierra Morena, Miss Rostrevor, and one has few opportunities for
playing polo there. But we have good sport, nevertheless. We spend
much of our time hunting a notorious brigand known as El Diablo
Cojuelo, who plays hide-and-seek with us and defies capture. He
kidnaps all the most beautiful of our girls, robs our rich men, and
gives most of the proceeds of his robberies to the poor. The rascal
even had the audacity to capture me and hold me to ransom. I had no
alternative but to pay the price he demanded. Subsequently I led
troops into the mountains in search of him, but he had vanished into
thin air and has not since been seen. However, his disappearance and
the cessation of his activities have enabled me to take a holiday, and
I hope to spend some months in England. I fervently trust, Miss
Rostrevor, that I shall have the pleasure of meeting you often."