Bandit Love

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."