"But I have already devised measures for his safety. Now I must go upstairs. They have heard nothing yet?"
"Then I must tell them of the mysterious shooting in the woods, and at the same time reassure Merle that her lover is in no real danger."
"And Mrs. Darlington?" asked Tia Teresa. "How much is she to know?"
"Nothing! The vendetta is for us Spaniards. It is ours and ours alone. No one knows of my vow but you and I. Let it remain so. _Adios_, my dear friend."
In the darkness he stooped and kissed her on both cheeks. For a moment she clung to him, but he gently liberated himself from her embrace. He moved toward the stairway, and Tia Teresa followed him cautiously up to the drawing room door, outside of which she remained. Knowing that she was there, he left the door ajar. The soft music was still playing, but suddenly ceased when Robles advanced into the apartment.
"My word, but this is an unexpected pleasure," exclaimed Merle, as she came from the piano with outstretched hands.
He took them both in his own, and bestowed on her a grave but kindly smile. He also nodded to Grace, who had dropped her book and risen in courteous greeting.
"But you look sad and serious," Merle went on, with quick intuition that his coming at this late hour meant something more than a mere neighborly visit.
"Something sad and serious has happened," he replied.
Mrs. Darlington had advanced from her lamp-lit table.
"What?" she enquired eagerly. "Somehow I had a sense of impending trouble all day long."
"Young Thurston of the rancho has met with an accident."
"Dead?" gasped Merle, her hands clasped against her bosom.
"Yes, dead, I am afraid. He was mysteriously shot this afternoon when riding through the pine woods."
Merle was stricken dumb. Grace glided to her side and listened in silent expectancy.
"That I cannot tell," gravely replied Robles. Then he smiled faintly. "But an amazingly stupid blunder has been made. By some combination of circumstances suspicion is being fastened on our dear friend Dick Willoughby."
"Dick!" exclaimed Merle. "Who dares to suggest such a thing?" she added indignantly.
"I infer that Mr. Thurston is his accuser," replied Robles.
"The two young men quarreled," murmured Mrs. Darlington, in a voice of deep agitation.