Trembling with excitement and agitation, dazed by the suddenness of the seeming tragedy, Myra stood rigid for a few moments, then threw aside the pistol she had snatched from Tony and ran to Don Carlos, flinging herself down on her knees beside him, and tearing off his cowl with shaking hands.

“Are you badly hurt?” she cried breathlessly, horrified to see that Don Carlos’s pale face was contorted in pain and his eyes were closed. “Where are you wounded, Don Carlos? Shall I call for Mother Dolores?”

There was no response save a low moan, Don Carlos’s limbs stretched out as if they were stiffening into the rigour of death, and his head sagged back as Myra tried to raise it. Temporarily, Myra completely lost her head.

“Speak to me, Don Carlos,” she gasped brokenly. “Open your eyes and look at me, darling. Oh, surely, surely you can’t be going to die! What can I do? Oh, my dear, my dear ”

Her voice failed her, she tried to cry out for help but sobs choked her utterance. Don Carlos’s eyes fluttered open for a moment then closed again.

“Kiss me, Myra darling,” he moaned faintly. “Kiss me, my sweet love.”

Quivering with emotion, Myra bent down and pressed her trembling lips to his and immediately found herself encircled by two strong arms, found the eyes of the “dying” man open and glowing with life and ardour, found herself crushed in a close embrace, and being kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

She struggled, broke free, and scrambled to her feet, her brain in a turmoil, and almost instantly Don Carlos also was on his feet, laughing exultantly.

“Myra, darling, surely you can no longer persist in pretending you do not love me,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “If you hated me, as you professed, you would have let Standish try to fire a second time. I have put you to the test and proved that you love me.”

Myra, agitated, bewildered, torn by conflicting emotions, gazed at him wide-eyed.

“But but aren’t you wounded?” she stammered. “Have you only been pretending?”

“Only pretending, Myra, but I blame myself for not acting my part for a little longer,” answered Don Carlos. “If only I had waited, pretending for a few minutes longer that I was dying, you would have confessed your love. But your kiss so fired my heart that I forgot my part.”

He laughed again exultantly and made a movement as if to sweep Myra into his arms, but she recoiled from him hastily. Anger and resentment at having been fooled swiftly succeeded her bewilderment, and her blue eyes flashed her indignation.

“So you have only been making mock of me, playing a part as usual, to flatter your own vanity!” she exclaimed. “I am sorry now that Tony’s aim was not truer, and that I prevented him from firing a second time.”

“The result would have been just the same, Myra,” Don Carlos responded. “The pistol was loaded with blank cartridges. I deliberately left it within the reach of Standish, to see if he would have the nerve to use it, and to see how you would behave if he fired at me. You must admit, Myra darling, that you showed more concern for me than for Standish, thereby proving that you love me best. Dear heart, I shall treasure the memory of the first kiss you gave voluntarily.”

“I would kiss any ruffian who begged me to do so if I thought he was dying,” said Myra. “You have no reason to flatter yourself on the success of your play-acting trickery.”

“Myra, don’t you think you have resisted me and the call of your heart long enough?” countered Don Carlos. “Must I take still stronger measures to induce you to surrender yourself voluntarily? What if I tell you that I propose to have Antony Standish branded with hot irons and scourged as a punishment for attempting to kill me, unless you give yourself to me?”

“You are talking melodramatic nonsense again,” Myra protested. “You would surely not be guilty of such devilish cruelty!”

“El Diablo Cojuelo is capable of any devilry,” Don Carlos retorted grimly. “Would you sacrifice yourself to save Standish if he were willing to accept your sacrifice?”

“I suppose I should have no alternative,” replied Myra, after a pause. “But Tony would not accept my sacrifice. He is an Englishman, and will never be scared into surrendering me to one whom he believes to be a Spanish brigand and outlaw. He loves me.”

“Unless I am much mistaken, he has not even begun to know the meaning of love,” said Don Carlos. “Tell me, Myra, if my threat to have him flogged and branded makes him offer to surrender you to El Diablo Cojuelo in order to save himself, will you marry me?”

“If I thought he’d sacrifice me to an outlaw to save his own skin, I’d marry you in his presence,” exclaimed Myra impulsively.

“That is a promise,” said Don Carlos quickly. “You shall marry me in his presence if he proves himself a craven. I will see him again now and discover what is in his heart and mind and I shall have a priest in readiness.”

“Tony will not fail me,” said Myra bravely, but her heart misgave her, and already she was repenting of her impulsive promise.

Don Carlos rang the bell, and gave some rapid orders to Garcilaso, who appeared in answer to the summons. The man at first apparently did not grasp what was required of him, but presently nodded understanding, withdrew and returned in a few minutes, accompanied by Riafio, who was carrying a pair of handcuffs and a coil of rope.

“What are the handcuffs for?” asked Myra apprehensively.

“They are for me, dear lady,” explained Don Carlos, with a ghost of a smile. “It would not do to let Mr. Standish think that even El Diablo Cojuelo could manage to keep Don Carlos a prisoner without fettering him. Incidentally, I must give myself the appearance of having been roughly handled or Standish may smell a rat.”

He flung off his coat as he spoke, tore off his collar and rumpled his hair, then ordered Riafio to handcuff him.

“Garcilaso and Riafio will now thrust me into the cell in which Mr. Standish is imprisoned, and he and I will have a little confidential talk about you and El Diablo Cojuelo,” he resumed. “Standish naturally imagines that Don Carlos was captured at the same time as your charming self, and he will doubtless give me his confidence. It may be that he will be the more ready to surrender you when he learns that Don Carlos will be prepared to ransom you when Cojuelo has tired of you.”

“More play-acting and you are taking an unfair advantage again,” commented Myra.

“You should thank me rather than blame me for putting Standish’s love for you to the test,” responded Don Carlos, with a shrug. “Pray make yourself comfortable until I return to call on you to redeem your promise. Adios!”

He gave more orders to his men, sternly bidding them restrain their mirth, for they were treating the affair as a huge joke, and both tried to assume an expression of ferocity as they marched him out.

Left alone, Myra flung herself down on the couch and pressed her hands to her burning cheeks.

“Oh, surely, surely he won’t succeed in fooling or intimidating Tony into surrendering me,” she whispered, feeling shaken to the depths. “I feel confident Tony won’t give me up, and yet oh, I wish I hadn’t made that promise. I don’t want to marry Don Carlos unless oh, this is driving me crazy! What did he mean by saying Don Carlos might ransom me when Cojuelo had tired of me?”

It was fully an hour before Don Carlos reappeared, and Myra found the time of waiting and the suspense almost unbearable. She started convulsively to her feet as Don Carlos entered, and her heart seemed to miss a beat when she saw that he was smiling triumphantly.

“You are mine, Myra, mine!” he exclaimed exultantly, his dark eyes gleaming. “As I expected, Standish values himself and his own safety more than he values you, and he is ready to surrender you to El Diablo Cojuelo as the price of his freedom.”

“I don’t believe it! It can’t be true!” protested Myra breathlessly. “Tony wouldn’t be such a knave and coward. You have tricked him, I suppose, into saying something which you distort into an offer to surrender me.”

“I repeat that Standish is now willing to leave you here at the mercy of Cojuelo, on condition that he is allowed to go scot free,” said Don Carlos.

“I don’t believe it! It can’t be true!” Myra reiterated. “Take me to Tony and let me question him.”

“Presently you shall have your wish, but first let me give you an account of my interview with Mr. Standish, so that you will know what questions to put to him,” said Don Carlos. “Pray be seated, Myra, and calm yourself. Does the prospect of surrendering yourself to me so dismay your heart?”

Myra merely nodded, as she seated herself in the furthermost corner of the couch. She did not know what to say or what to believe, and her blue eyes were dark with dread as she watched Don Carlos, who had assumed a nonchalant attitude. He put on the coat he had discarded before going to interview Standish, helped himself to a drink from a side table, and lit a cigarette before taking a seat facing Myra.

“Why, I wonder, do you persist in doubting me?” he said, slowly and deliberately. “What I have told you is true. I had myself thrust as a prisoner into the cell in which your dear Tony Standish is at present imprisoned. He welcomed me like a long-lost brother, told me what had happened, and asked me if I could help to arrange terms with Cojuelo.”

He broke off with a laugh, flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette, and finished his drink. Myra, waiting almost breathlessly for him to continue, felt that she wanted to shake him for being so tantalisingly deliberate.

“I told him that I had had a conversation with Cojuelo, and that the brigand had told me he meant to kill him by inches and make him die a hundred deaths for having attempted to murder him,” resumed Don Carlos at length. “I told him I could ransom him and get him away scot free, but only if he agreed to hand you over to Cojuelo as part of his ransom.”

Again he paused, and Myra could not restrain her impatience.

“Well? Go on. Do you mean to tell me Tony agreed?” she asked. “Or have you to pause every now and again to invent a story?”

“To do him justice, I must tell you that Standish did not at once agree,” answered Don Carlos, tossing away the butt of his cigarette. “His idea was that Cojuelo had only been bluffing, and that it was merely a question of offering him enough money. Incidentally, you were right in your estimate, Myra. He said he would pay anything up to ten thousand pounds as a ransom for you. When I told him Cojuelo would not part with you for one hundred thousand pounds, he said he’d see him damned first before he’d pay it. So now you know your market value, as rated by Mr. Antony Standish, who has an income, I understand, of something like a hundred thousand pounds a year!”

“So because Tony wasn’t idiot enough to agree to pay more than ten thousand pounds as ransom, you are trying to make out he agreed to resign me and leave me to the tender mercies of Cojuelo?”

Don Carlos shook his head and lit another cigarette with exasperating deliberation.

“Dear Myra, it may wound your pride, but he has resigned you,” he said. “His love did not stand the acid test. I told him it was not a question of money, that Cojuelo had fallen madly in love with you and was afire with desire to make you his own, but thought it might bring him bad luck to take a girl who was betrothed to another man, unless the other man agreed to surrender her to him, or, at least, give her her freedom. Mr. Standish protested that nothing would persuade him to surrender you to Cojuelo.”

“And yet you have said he offered to give me up?”

“Hear me out, Myra. I did not say he offered to give you up. I said he was willing to surrender you which is a distinction with a difference. When he protested that nothing would persuade him to surrender you to Cojuelo, I reminded him that the bandit had threatened to have him scourged and branded with hot irons, that he was absolutely at the devil’s mercy, and I played on his fears. I warned him that Cojuelo was a man of his word and would surely torture him unless he renounced you. He quailed at that, and after some hesitation agreed that he had no alternative but to accept his freedom and leave you here.”

“But that does not mean that he renounced me,” objected Myra, as Don Carlos paused again.

“What else does it mean, Myra?” asked Don Carlos. “I told him Cojuelo is madly in love with you, as I have said, and that if he accepted his freedom the outlaw would take it as an indication he had given you up. Yet he is going. True, he talked about organizing a rescue party, swore he would kill Cojuelo if any harm came to you, and all that sort of thing, but that was mere empty talk. The whole point is, as I said in the first place, that he is prepared, in effect, to surrender you to El Diablo Cojuelo as the price of his own freedom and safety.”

“I cannot I will not believe it,” said Myra firmly, rising to her feet. “Not until I hear Tony say himself that he is prepared to renounce me will I believe it. Let me see him.”

“As you will,” said Don Carlos, rising and putting on his disguise. “I will take you to him. Let me remind you, however, of your promise not to reveal the fact that Don Carlos and El Diablo Cojuelo are one and the same. I hold you to both of your promises and I have a priest waiting to marry us. Come!”