Bandit Love by Juanita Savage (fox in socks read aloud txt) 📕

me a veritable devil if you do not agree to my terms," answered Don Carlos. "Oh, yes, I speak English. How else could I have made love to the Señorita Rostrevor?"

"How dare you make love to Miss Rostrevor?" blustered Tony. "I warn you you shall suffer for this outrage. We are British subjects, and the British Government will make your confounded Spanish Authorities pay the penalty. Take off that hood thing and let's have a look at you."

It was a futile sort of speech, but Tony was conscious that he was at a disadvantage and he was trying to bluff.

"I am afraid the shock of seeing my face might be too much for you, señor," retorted Don Carlos, with a muffled laugh. "But I am willing to face you as man to man, if the idea is acceptable to you, and to fight you with such weapons as you may select, or without weapons. I flatter myself I am fairly proficient in your English sport of boxing, if you would prefer a fist fight rather than a duel with swords or pistols. I rather fancy we can settle this matter without calling for the intervention of the British Government!"

"What are you blathering about?" asked the astonished Tony. "Why do you want to fight me?"

"I am making you what an Englishman would surely call a sporting offer, señor," explained Don Carlos. "I will fight you for Miss Myra Rostrevor. If I beat you, you surrender her to me. If you beat me, I surrender her to you, set you both at liberty, and promise you safe conduct back to El Castillo de Ruiz without any question of payment of ransom, provided you give me your word of honour not to betray my identity, which I shall reveal to you. Is it a bargain?"

"But—but—hang it all!—the whole thing's fantastic!" stammered Tony, more bewildered than ever. "Why should I take the risk of having to surrender Miss Rostrevor to you? It is an absurd proposal, although you may think it is a sporty offer. I'm not afraid to fight you, but I've got to consider Miss Rostrevor."

"Does this proposal appeal to Miss Rostrevor?" inquired Don Carlos, turning his hooded head in Myra's direction. "It is possible that the risk of becoming the property of El Diablo Cojuelo is not altogether distasteful to her!"

Myra did not know how to answer. She felt inclined to bid Tony accept the offer, yet she knew it would be an unwomanly thing to do. Instinctively she felt, moreover, that in a fight Don Carlos would prove the victor.

"The risk is distasteful to me," she equivocated, after a pause.

"You seem to forget that you are completely at my mercy," remarked Don
Carlos drily. "It is an act of grace on my part to offer Señor
Standish the opportunity of fighting for you."

"Here, cut out this nonsensical talk and drop your pose of being a sportsman," interposed Standish. "What's the idea, anyhow? It's heads you win and tails I lose, I suppose, if it comes to fighting you. If I beat you, one of your gang of cut-throat ruffians would probably knife me. I see through your bluff, my man. You are pretending that you want to keep Miss Rostrevor with the idea of extorting a bigger ransom."

"You insult me!" thundered Don Carlos, springing up from his chair and bringing his clenched fist down on the table with a crash. "El Diablo Cojuelo has never broken his word and has kept his every promise, yet you dare to suggest he would not fight fair. Let me insult you in return, Señor Standish, by suggesting you are too much of a coward to fight for the girl you profess to love, and would surrender her rather than suffer pain."

"Confound you, you ruffian! How dare you talk to me in that fashion!" burst out Tony, forgetting his position, and taking an impulsive step forward—only to be seized roughly by his guards, one of whom jabbed the point of a knife against his breast. Tony flinched, then he shrugged his shoulders and faced the hooded figure disdainfully.

"Easy to take the high hand and to fling insults at a man when you have a lot of armed ruffians to protect you!" he said sarcastically. "What's the idea, anyhow? Why not get down to business instead of spouting a lot of balderdash?"

"I can dispense with the protection of the guards," Don Carlos remarked. "Garcilaso and Riafio, you will withdraw and leave me to deal with the señor. Wait outside," he added in Spanish.

He resumed his seat as the guards left the room, and Myra could see his eyes gleaming like black diamonds through the slits in his mask.

"Well, how much will you take to set Miss Rostrevor at liberty?" inquired Tony impatiently, after a pause. "I am sick of all this bluff and nonsense, being brought here blind-folded, and all that sort of thing, by another fellow dressed like you. The whole thing seems to me a fake, and it seems to me you must be in league with the authorities, else how could you have a place like this—electric light and all the rest of it—without being spotted?"

"Strange, is it not, Señor Standish?" responded Don Carlos, and his muffled voice had laughter in it. "Yet I assure you I am not in league with the authorities, and even Don Carlos, who prides himself on knowing practically every foot of the mountain range, failed to find my stronghold. Even a Division of your wonderful British Army and all your Scotland Yard would not discover the nest of El Diablo Cojuelo. You and Miss Rostrevor are as completely lost to the world here, and as helpless as you would be if the earth had swallowed you up."

"Oh, I quite realise you are in a position to dictate terms at present, if that's what you are getting at?" Tony exclaimed. "Why not get down to business without all this palaver? Look here, I'll pay you 10,000 pesetas to set Miss Rostrevor at liberty and give her safe conduct back to the Castle de Ruiz."

"Ten thousand pesetas," repeated Don Carlos. "Dios! Ten thousand pesetas! Miss Rostrevor, I congratulate you! Ten thousand pesetas are the Spanish equivalent of about sixty pounds, in English money. You see what a fabulous value your lover places on you. Sixty pounds! You must indeed feel flattered!"

Tony Standish's face crimsoned in annoyance, and a vicious expression flashed into his pale blue eyes.

"How much do you want?" he snapped.

Don Carlos did not answer. He rose from the table and walked to and fro, reiterating:

"Ten thousand pesetas—sixty pounds!"

Tony cursed under his breath, then his glance fell on the automatic pistol lying on the table, and he snatched it up and levelled it at his captor.

"Hands up, or I'll put a bullet through you!" he cried excitedly.

"Ten thousand pesetas—sixty pounds!" sneered Don Carlos again, paying no heed to the pistol levelled at him. "So that is the value you place on the woman you profess to love!"

Stung to fury and scarcely realising what he was doing, Tony Standish fired, but the shot did not seem to take effect, and before he could fire a second time Myra sprang at him and snatched the pistol from his hand. As she did so, the two guards dashed into the room, grappled with Tony and bore him to the floor. One of them put a knife to the Englishman's throat, and twisted round his head to call out something to his master.

"No, not now," said Don Carlos shortly, in Spanish. "Take him away, manacle him, and guard him closely."

The men dragged Standish to his feet and hustled him out of the room, and as they did so Don Carlos reeled, a gasping cry broke from him, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

CHAPTER XV

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