His demeanour as her fellow guest at Tony Standish’s shooting lodge at Auchinleven, where he arrived about the middle of August, piqued and perplexed Myra. Not only did Don Carlos keep his promise to refrain from making love to her, but he seemed to avoid her as much as possible, and was only formally polite when they happened to be thrown together.

Yet he made love to practically all the other ladies of the party, and obviously set the hearts of several of the younger ones fluttering. Myra tried to persuade herself she was thankful to be relieved of his ardent attentions, but at heart she was annoyed to find herself ignored.

“I suppose he is proving that he was only amusing himself and that his fervent love-making was mere pretence,” reflected Myra. “He is making my complaint about him seem absurd. Bother the man! I have half a mind to try to make him fall in love with me in earnest, and then take the conceit out of him by telling him I have only been amusing myself at his expense.”

What added to her inward vexation was the fact that Don Carlos appeared to have won the good opinion of all the other men of the party, and had completely ingratiated himself with Tony Standish, who constantly talked about him with enthusiasm and spent much time in his company.

“Have you offended Don Carlos in some way, Myra?” Lady Fermanagh inquired one night. “I notice he seems to avoid you as much as possible, and yet he and Tony have become great friends.”

“I think Don Carlos is the most exasperating man in the world, aunt, and it is most annoying that Tony should make such a fuss of him after what happened,” responded Myra, half-petulantly. “It would serve Tony right if I threw him over. It is exasperating that he is so sure of me that he isn’t a bit jealous of Don Carlos, and probably thinks I made a fuss about nothing. Why didn’t he half-kill the conceited Spaniard for daring to make love to me? I should have loved him if he had done that yes, even if he got the worst of it, I should have loved him for trying to give Don Carlos a hiding.”

“Don’t be absurd, my dear Myra!” protested Lady Fermanagh, laughingly. “I told you that the love-making of men like Don Carlos should not be taken seriously, and it was foolish of you to take offence.”

“And now, I suppose, he is laughing up his sleeve at me for having taken him seriously, and thinks he is punishing me by ignoring me for being such a little prude!” said Myra. “Perhaps I did make rather a fool of myself, but I intend to get even with him. Yes, I’ll get even with the conceited creature! Do you know what I have decided to do, aunt? I am going to make love to Don Carlos and make him fall in love with me in earnest, just to have the satisfaction of turning him down afterwards and making him feel, and look, a fool.”

“For goodness sake don’t try to do anything of the sort, Myra,” counselled Lady Fermanagh. “Don Carlos is very much a man of the world, and you would be playing with fire. I should judge that he knows women better than most men. And in any case, my dear, it isn’t safe to trifle with a Spaniard.”

“And it isn’t safe to trifle with a Rostrevor Don Carlos de Ruiz will find to his cost,” retorted Myra, with a sudden laugh. “My mind is made up, and I shall start on my conquest to-night.”

She took special pains over her toilette that evening, and her maid found her unusually exacting. She chose a very decollete evening frock of jade green shot with blue that matched the blue of her eyes but contrasted beautifully with her red-gold hair, and with it she wore a necklace of emeralds and turquoises.

“By Jove! Myra, dear, you are looking lovelier than ever to-night!” exclaimed Tony Standish, admiringly and adoringly, when she went down into the great hall of Auchinleven Lodge before dinner. “You look simply wonderful, darling. Wonderful!”

“Thank you for these few kind words, good sir,” Myra answered smilingly, in bantering tones, and dropped a mock curtsey. “I hope Don Carlos will be equally complimentary. You see, Tony, I am afraid he is rather vexed with me for complaining to you about him and snubbing him, so I have decided to let him fall in love with me again and make you furiously jealous.”

“Righto!” laughed Tony. “But don’t overdo it, old thing, or I may do a bit of the Othello business, don’t you know. I believe I could be as fiercely passionate as any Spaniard if I tried.”

“Why not try?” responded Myra lightly. “Incidentally, I fancy Othello was a Moor, and not a Spaniard.”

“Well, the Moors had something to do with Spain, so it amounts to the same thing. Talking of Spain, Myra, reminds me that Don Carlos has consented to be one of my yachting party for our Mediterranean trip in the winter, and has invited all of us to spend a week or so with him at his place, El Castillo de Ruiz, somewhere in the Sierra Morena.”

“Really! That will give me plenty of time to complete my conquest,” commented Myra, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “I suppose it isn’t good form to make a fool of one’s host, but Don Carlos will deserve anything he may get.”

“I say, darling, I hope you’re not in earnest,” Tony remarked. “You seem to be in a dangerous mood to-night, and you look adorably lovely yes, simply scrumptious! You would fascinate any man, my dear, and I am sure even Don Carlos will be clay in your hands. Don’t be too hard on him, Myra. He’s an awfully good chap, and I feel sure he didn’t mean any harm.”

“To-night, my dear Tony, I am a ‘vamp,’” laughed Myra. “Just look at Aunt Clarissa over there flirting with Don Carlos, who is probably telling her she is the most accomplished and beautiful woman in the world. Watch me go and cut her out!”

Conscious that she was looking her best (a feeling that gives any woman a sense of power), Myra strolled across the hall to where Don Carlos was chatting to Lady Fermanagh.

“Forgive me if I am interrupting,” she said sweetly, smiling into the dark eyes of the Spaniard. “I want to tell you I am so glad to hear from Tony that you are coming with us on the yachting cruise this winter, and I want to thank you for your invitation to El Castillo de Ruiz. I was so afraid you had not forgiven me for being so rude to you, and dreaded lest you had decided to have nothing further to do with such an ungracious person as Myra Rostrevor.”

“Sweet lady, I should dismiss such a thought as treason, not to say blasphemy,” Don Carlos responded gallantly. “Even when you are ungracious, if ever, you are always the most adorable and beautiful woman in the world.”

Myra trilled out a laugh, her blue eyes still smiling at him.

“Thank you, senor, for these few kind words,” she said. “I expect you have been saying something of the same sort to my aunt?”

“Yes, Myra, Don Carlos has been telling me that mine is the type of beauty he has always most admired, and that I seem to have discovered not only the secret of perpetual youth, but the art of growing old gracefully,” Lady Fermanagh told her smilingly. “I begin to suspect him of being Irish instead of Spanish for how can one grow old with perpetual youth, I ask you? Still, I confess I like his blarney, and I think it a pity that most Englishmen seem to have lost the knack of paying a compliment, and saying flattering things as if they meant them.”

“Dear lady, you do both me and yourself an injustice,” exclaimed Don Carlos, his tone very grave but his dark eyes dancing. “The greatest of courtiers, even if he had kissed your famous Blarney Stone, would surely be at a loss for words which would even do justice to your charm, let alone flattering you.”

Lady Fermanagh wagged a finger at him.

“My Spanish is getting rusty, senor,” she said, “but I think I remember one of the proverbs of your country: ’Haceos miel y comeras han moscas’, which means, ’Make yourself honey and the flies will eat you.’ Am I right?”

“Always you are right, dear lady,” responded Don Carlos smilingly; “but you leave me undetermined as to whether I am your fly or your honey. Incidentally, we have another proverb, ’En casa del moro no hables algaravia.’ Can your ladyship translate that?”

“Yes, senor,” Lady Fermanagh answered, after a moment of thought. “It means, ‘Do not speak Arabic in the house of a Moor,’ but I don’t know what the application is where we are concerned, unless you are suggesting I have misinterpreted your perfect English, or else you are subtly criticising my imperfect Spanish. You are too deep for me, Don Carlos, and I will leave Myra to try and fathom you. Beware of him, Myra!” she added smilingly, as she moved away.

“I assure you I am absolutely sincere when I tell you, sweet lady, that I am more than charmed to know that you are coming to Spain as my guest, and I promise you I shall do everything that lies in my power to make your visit interesting,” said Don Carlos to Myra. “But let me warn you that if El Diablo Cojuelo learns that the most beautiful, adorable, and wholly desirable girl in the world is going to visit El Castillo de Ruiz, he will assuredly make an attempt to kidnap you.”

“Is the most beautiful, adorable, and wholly desirable girl in the world going to be one of the party?” inquired Myra, assuming an innocent expression. “How interesting and exciting! Who is she? A film star?”

“She is you, senorita,” Don Carlos responded, “and let me remind you that El Diablo Cojuelo almost makes a hobby of kidnapping beautiful women. So you will be in danger all the time you are in Spain.”

“I refuse to be dismayed and I don’t believe a word of it!” responded Myra, with a silvery laugh. “I don’t believe you keep a pet brigand and outlaw on your estate, but even if you do, the prospect of being kidnapped does not dismay me. The risk, if any, will add a spice of adventure to the visit. But I can’t believe you would let any brigand steal me from your castle, Don Carlos, although you have threatened to steal me yourself. Would you?”

“I promise you that El Diablo Cojuelo shall not steal you away from me even if he captures you, senorita,” Don Carlos replied. “I am glad you are undismayed, and again I assure you I am honoured and flattered that you have accepted my invitation to ”

“I regarded it more as a challenge than an invitation,” interposed Myra.

“Really! Then I am more than honoured by your acceptance of the challenge,” resumed Don Carlos, his face crinkling into a smile. “I wonder why you are condescending to be so gracious to me to-night, Myra. Do I understand I am forgiven?”

“Perhaps I have really nothing to forgive, Carlos, and it was folly on my part to take offence,” Myra answered, with an alluring glance. “Incidentally, it is nice of you to keep your promise not to make love to me, but but ”

She broke off as if at a loss. For once in a way Myra Rostrevor was deliberately playing the part of coquette, and she saw Don Carlos’s eyes flame suddenly with ardour and expectation.

“You mean that you no longer hold me to my promise, Myra?” he asked, scarcely above a whisper.

“No, I I don’t mean that, Carlos,” murmured Myra, with eyes downcast; “but but you have only been coldly polite to me ever since you arrived here, yet I have seen you making love to other girls. If you are in love with me, and were not merely pretending ”

“I was not pretending, Myra,” interrupted Don Carlos. “I love you with every fibre of my being. It was only pretence where the other women are and were concerned. I confess I tried to make you feel jealous, and I trust I succeeded?”

“I am not going to tell you,” said Myra, raising her eyelids to flash another alluring and provocative glance at him. “Unless there is love, there can hardly be jealousy. If I were desperately in love with a man who did not care for me, or pretended he did not, I should not have the heart to try to make any other man fall in love with me. How can you expect me to believe you are really in love with me, Carlos, when I see you constantly making love to other women?”

“Darling, give me but a chance to prove my love,” Don Carlos breathed; then quick-wittedly began to talk about salmon fishing as two or three other guests approached.

Myra did not give him another opportunity to talk to her alone during the rest of the evening, but she contrived to tantalise and puzzle him further, nevertheless. She pleaded tiredness when he asked her to dance after dinner, but danced with other men, and she was unusually affectionate in her manner towards Tony when she thought Don Carlos was watching her, which was often.

“I say, Myra, darlinest, you’re looking lovelier and more adorable than ever, and I feel bewitched and enraptured,” Tony whispered to her as she took his arm and gave it an affectionate little squeeze after a dance.

“I am trying to make up for being horrid about Don Carlos, Tony dear,” explained Myra. “Now I have come to my senses, I am going to let the delightful man make love to me as much as he likes, and play him at his own game... Let’s sit the next dance out in the conservatory, Tony.”

She had seen Don Carlos wander into the conservatory, and the imp of mischief that possessed her was prompting her to find new ways of teasing and testing him. The conservatory was in semi-darkness, but as Myra entered with Tony she located Don Carlos, for he happened to strike a match at that moment to light a cigarette, before seating himself in a dark corner.

“Let’s find a dark corner, Tony,” said Myra, and guided her fiance close to where Don Carlos was sitting close enough to be sure that the Spaniard would be able to overhear anything she said. “The man who loves me doesn’t seem to realise that I want to be kissed,” she resumed. “You may kiss me, Tony.”

“Darling!” exclaimed the delighted Tony, taking her in his arms and kissing her. “I have been longing to kiss you all evening, sweetheart, but thought you might object even if I got a chance.”

“You silly men don’t seem to understand that a girl isn’t necessarily in earnest if she says she doesn’t want to be kissed, or pretends she doesn’t want to be made love to,” responded Myra, with a little gurgling laugh. “Kiss me again, Tony, but this time kiss me in the way I should love to be kissed by the man who loves me, and not just like a cold-blooded Englishman.”

Tony kissed her again, straining her closer, but Myra broke from him as if in sudden alarm.

“There’s someone in the corner, Tony,” she whispered. “I saw the glow of a cigarette-end. Let’s slip out quickly. I hope they didn’t see us or hear us, and that they won’t rag us later on.”

Little guessing that Myra had intended part of what she said should be overheard, Tony, a little bewildered, allowed himself to be rushed out of the conservatory, protesting in an undertone that it didn’t matter about being heard or seen, as they were engaged.

For the rest of the evening Myra continued to avoid Don Carlos as much as possible, but she smiled at him in tantalisingly alluring fashion every time their eyes met, wondering as she did so what was in his mind and what effect her coquetry had had upon him. And she went to bed feeling that she had, at least, done something towards justifying her boast that she would make Don Carlos fall in love with her in earnest.

At dead of night she woke suddenly, with the feeling strong upon her that someone, or something, had touched her, but when she sat up in bed and switched on the lights she could see nothing to give her any cause for alarm. Deciding she must have been dreaming, Myra was about to switch off the lights and compose herself to sleep again, when her eyes fell on a folded sheet of notepaper on her pillow. With a sudden intake of breath, she picked up the note, unfolded it, and read:

“The man who loves you will kiss you in the way you would love to be kissed as soon as he is relieved of his promise. Relieve him of his promise, and leave the door of your bedroom unlocked again to-morrow night.”

Myra read the note again and again, her mind in something of a tumult, her heart throbbing fast. She knew it must have been written by Don Carlos, and she was dismayed by the thought that he had been in her room.

“There seems to be no limit to the man’s daring and impudence,” she reflected, and was annoyed to find that she was blushing. “What cheek to suggest that I should relieve him of his promise not to make love to me and leave my bedroom door unlocked! What infernal, stupendous, insulting cheek! ... Yet I suppose he accepted what I said to Tony as an invitation and a challenge as I intended. Heavens! if anyone should have seen him leaving my room at this time of the morning, I shouldn’t have a rag of reputation left. I should be hopelessly compromised, and it wouldn’t be much use producing this letter in the hope of clearing myself. Still, I don’t suppose anyone else was prowling about at this time of the night or morning... I wonder if he touched me or kissed me? I wonder if he is really in love with me? I wonder...”

Myra did quite a lot of wondering before she eventually drifted into slumber again, and when she was reawakened by her maid bringing her morning tea, it was to find that she had been sleeping with Don Carlos’s note clasped against her breast.

“I suppose the wisest and safest course will be to make no reference whatever to the letter, and to pretend I don’t know what he is talking about if Don Carlos has the cheek to refer to it,” Myra soliloquised, as she dressed. “After all, I deliberately provoked him, and I should have been disappointed if he had taken no notice. I shall keep the letter and challenge him about it later. Meanwhile I shall hold him to his promise not to make love to me, yet do my utmost to make him break his word. I wonder what will happen if I do make him fall in love with me in earnest. Life is becoming quite an adventure!”

So she made no reference to the letter when by chance she found herself alone with Don Carlos for a time during the course of the afternoon, but continued to exert herself to be “nice” to him. And when Myra Rostrevor set herself out to fascinate, she was an exceedingly alluring and seductive creature. Her sweetness, graciousness, and the inviting and enticing glances of her blue eyes obviously had a strong effect on Don Carlos, and fired his ardour.

“Myra, why are you torturing and tantalising me in this fashion?” he burst out suddenly. “Confess that you love me, darling, and release me from my promise not to make love to you.”

“Why, you dear, conceited man, don’t you understand it is only because you pledged your word not to make love to me that I am being nice to you?” Myra replied, with her bewitching smile. “If you break your promise, I shall immediately freeze up again and keep you at a distance.”

“You are cruel, senorita,” commented Don Carlos, with a shrug and a sigh. “You are the most tantalising, puzzling and exasperating girl I have ever met, as well as the loveliest and the most adorable.”

“Really!” laughed Myra. “I wonder you consort with such an annoying person!”

“Consort? Consort? I like that word, Myra,” he responded. “I intend to be your consort for the rest of my life, and you shall be my queen and the empress of my heart.”

“What a horrible threat!” exclaimed Myra. “And I am afraid, incidentally, it is camouflaged love-making. You must keep to the spirit as well as the letter of your promise, Don Carlos, if you wish to continue on our present footing.”

“I am but human, sweet lady, and you are torturing me,” said Don Carlos. “I am like unto a man dying of thirst, and you hold a cup of water to my lips, only to snatch it away when I try to drink. But I promise you I shall yet drink my fill from your fountain of love.”

“Another dreadful threat and aren’t your metaphors getting mixed again?”

“Myra, darling, I love

“Remember your promise!” interrupted Myra. “If, as you say, I torture you so horribly, perhaps you would prefer me to avoid you?”

“No, no, a thousand times, no!” Don Carlos cried. “I was desolated when you refused to dance with me last night, and you put me to the torture later in the conservatory. I wanted to murder the other man, the one in particular on whom you bestowed your favours.”

“Dear me! What a bloodthirsty creature! Incidentally, are you not still attempting to make love indirectly? I suppose making love has become a sort of second nature, and you do not know you are breaking your promise?”

“I stand rebuked, sweet lady, and crave your pardon,” said Don Carlos. “Never yet have I consciously broken a promise. And let me remind you that I have made you several promises.”

“Several?” repeated Myra, raising her eyebrows inquiringly.

“Yes, you may remember that the first time we danced together I promised to awaken your heart and fire it with the passion which now consumes me,” replied Don Carlos quietly. “I have promised several times since to make you my own, to make you surrender to the call of love and confess yourself conquered.”

“Those, I presume, were promises made to yourself,” Myra retorted lightly. “We all promise ourselves things, and hope for things, we know at heart we shall never get.”

“I have told you it was prophesied that I should get my heart’s desire, and also that I have won the reputation of getting anything on which I set my heart.”

“As far as I am concerned, you have won the reputation of being the most conceited and audacious man in Europe,” commented Myra, turning away from him with a careless laugh.