"Don Carlos!" she gasped. "You! But I don't understand."
"I am El Diablo Cojuelo, dear Myra," explained Don Carlos, obviously
enjoying the sensation he had created. "I feared you had guessed my
secret."
"So the whole affair, I take it, is an elaborate practical joke?" Myra
queried after a pause, dropping back into her seat and forcing a laugh.
"El Diablo Cojuelo, the outlaw, is merely a creature of your own
imagination?"
"I am El Diablo Cojuelo," repeated Don Carlos. "I am a dual
personality. At my castle and at Court I am Don Carlos de Ruiz,
Governor of a Province and an administrator of the laws. Here in my
mountain eyrie I am Cojuelo, the outlaw, acknowledging no laws save
those I make myself."
"I still do not understand," remarked Myra, with perplexity in her blue
eyes. "Do you mean to say you lead a double life and occasionally
masquerade as a brigand, without anyone knowing that Don Carlos and
Cojuelo are one and the same? Is there no one aware of your identity?"
"Many of my people are aware of my identity, but none would betray me,
even if put to the torture," replied Don Carlos. "Those who are in the
secret vastly enjoy the way in which I hoodwink the authorities. They
enjoy the joke of my offer of a reward for the capture of El Diablo
Cojuelo, dead or alive, and my periodical 'searches' for the outlaw."
"But what is the idea of it all?" inquired Myra. "It seems foolishness
to me, but perhaps it flatters your vanity to be able to go about
scaring women and kidnapping girls."
There was scorn instead of bewilderment in her voice and eyes now, and
Don Carlos's pale face flushed slightly.
"Before the coming of El Diablo Cojuelo there were men in this province
who had enriched themselves at the cost of the peasants, cheated
farmers out of their land, and made them little better than serfs," he
explained quietly and deliberately. "The law could not touch these
vampires, parasites, money-lenders and profiteers. Cojuelo came upon
the scene, bled these rogues as they had bled the peasants, plundered
their houses, spirited them away, and held them to ransom."
"Really! Quite a profitable hobby, I suppose!" Myra remarked.
"Quite--and useful, to boot," responded Don Carlos, his face now
expressionless. "With the money which I have wrung from the spoilers I
have been able to restore their lands to many of the people without
much cost to myself, to pay their debts and aid them to escape from the
thraldom of blood-sucking money-lenders and tyrannical masters. I have
also made it possible for men to marry the girls of their choice, in
cases where the parents objected. A threat from El Diablo Cojuelo to
carry off a girl if she is not allowed to marry the man she loves, is
usually enough to bring her parents to their senses."
"So, if I understand you aright, you are a sort of benevolent brigand,
doing good without much risk or expense to yourself?" remarked Myra.
"A sort of modern Claude Duval--although he was a highway-man and not a
kidnapper."
"It pleases you to be ironic, Myra," responded Don Carlos. "Expense
does not concern me, for I am very wealthy, but it pleases me to
deprive the blood-suckers of their ill-gotten gains. As for the risk,
I suggest you underestimate it. There is a price on the head of El
Diablo Cojuelo, as I have mentioned, and the military have orders to
shoot at sight. Apart from that, however, if my identity were
betrayed, my wealth and position would not save me from being cast into
prison. I might even be condemned to death."
"How amusing!" commented Myra, still inclined to be scornful. "What
you say may be true, but it does not explain or excuse your conduct in
bringing me here as your captive. I was your guest, and therefore you
were responsible for my safety."
"I warned you that El Diablo Cojuelo might carry you off and teach you
how to love," answered Don Carlos, his grave face illuminated by a
boyish, impish smile.
"Oh, don't talk nonsense!" exclaimed Myra impatiently. "You cannot
excuse your conduct. I haven't been robbing the poor or anything of
the sort, and if you attempt to keep me here there will be trouble.
Tony will move heaven and earth to find me."
"I could excuse myself, if excuses were necessary, by explaining that I
have captured girls before to save them from marrying men they did not
love," said Don Carlos. "El Diablo Cojuelo fell in love with you at
first sight, and will prevent you from marrying the man to whom you are
betrothed but do not love."
"Don Carlos, please be sensible," pleaded Myra, at heart a little
fearful now. "Don't you realise that this escapade may have serious
consequences for you? Tony is sure to communicate with the British
Ambassador, and the affair may become one of international importance.
The best thing you can do is to take me back to-morrow morning, and
explain that the whole affair was an elaborately-planned practical
joke."
"I am quite agreeable to do that, Myra, provided you promise to marry
me and confess that you love me," said Don Carlos. "We can explain
that we succeeded in escaping from the clutches of El Diablo Cojuelo,
or, if you prefer it, you can tell Mr. Antony Standish that I rescued
you, and you have fallen in love with your rescuer."
"I shall do nothing of the sort," exclaimed Myra with spirit.
"In that case, Myra, you will remain here as the captive of El Diablo
Cojuelo, and the outlaw will try to teach you the meaning of love and
passion, teach you to respond to the call of your heart--if you have a
heart. You shall have your first lesson now, my sweet captive."
He sat down beside Myra on the couch as he spoke, flung his arms around
her and drew her into a close embrace in spite of her frantic
struggles, crushing her close to his breast and kissing her lips, her
cheeks, and her breast. Myra screamed breathlessly, but he only
laughed at her.
"Why waste your breath, sweet lady?" he laughed. "No one can hear your
cries, except, perhaps, Mother Dolores; but if all my band were within
hearing not one man would even think of daring to attempt to intervene,
no, not even if you were his own daughter. You are completely at my
mercy."
"Let me go. Oh, please, please, let me go!" gasped Myra, still vainly
striving to break from his embrace. "Surely you won't be coward enough
to take advantage of my helplessness!"
"Only confess that you love me, Myra darling, and I will do anything
you ask," Don Carlos replied, his deep voice vibrant with passion, his
dark eyes aglow with ardour. "Only confess yourself conquered."
"I won't! I won't! I'd rather die! I hate you, hate you!" stormed
Myra gaspingly, still struggling. "Let me go, you brute. You are
hurting me."
Don Carlos relaxed his hold, but restrained Myra when she would have
risen from the couch.
"Myra, darling, why do you persist in resisting me and refusing to
listen to the call of love?" he asked gently. "Do you realise that
your resistance is but adding fuel to the fires of my passion? You
drove me almost mad when you coquetted with me aboard the yacht, made
me crazy with desire, then laughed at me. I am but human, and my
longing for you is not to be denied. I vowed I would make you mine if
I had to break every law of God and man. You are mine now, my lovely,
adorable Myra, my heart's delight, mine to do with as I will, to take
or break."
The quietly spoken words struck dread into Myra's heart. It seemed to
her that a remorseless gleam had crept into the bright eyes of Don
Carlos. Intuitively she knew that he was determined to impose his will
upon her, and mingled with her dread there was resentment.
"Is it useless to appeal to your better nature, to your chivalry?" she
asked quickly, her voice tremulous.
"Is it useless to appeal to you again to surrender to the call of
love?" countered Don Carlos. "Myra, mia cara, every fibre of my being
is pulsing with love for you, and my heart is craving for the joy and
rapture that you alone can give. Look into my eyes, mia cara, and
whisper that you love me."
He laid his hands on Myra's shoulders as he spoke, compelling her to
meet his burning glance, and Myra felt as if she were being hypnotised.
"You love me, Myra darling, and it is only pride that prevents you from
confessing yourself conquered," went on the caressing voice. "When you
are mine, you will whisper you are glad that I conquered you. You are
lovely, my dear, seductive, adorable prisoner, and the beauty of you
sets me aching with longing."
His hands slid caressingly from Myra's shoulders down her arms to her
hands, which he raised to his lips and then drew round his neck. Myra
was trembling, and her breath was coming and going unsteadily, and she
felt as if she had lost all powers of resistance, felt as if she had
been drugged. She closed her eyes, and a gasping sigh broke from her
lips as Don Carlos strained her close to his breast again, murmuring
endearments.
"Let me set your heart afire with burning kisses," he murmured. "I
will kiss the heart out of you, sweet one, and kiss it back again white
hot with my own love and ardour. Give me back kiss for kiss, beloved."
Again he was kissing her, hungrily, passionately, yet tenderly withal.
Myra's senses were reeling. He did seem to be drawing the very heart
out of her with his lips, and drugging her senses. She felt as if she
were suffocating, and again she began to struggle involuntarily after a
few minutes as he drew her down with him on to the couch.
"You are stifling me," she panted. "Let me go."
Don Carlos released her at once, and she rose to her feet, pressing her
hands instinctively to her heaving bosom, as if to try to still the
wild throbbing of her heart. Her lovely face was flushed, her breath
was coming and going in sobbing gasps, her eyes, dark with emotion,
were feverishly bright, and her whole body seemed afire.
"Let me go now, please," she added gaspingly. "I can bear no more.
I--I think I am going to faint."
She swayed as she spoke, and Don Carlos was on his feet in an instant,
and had thrown his arm around her lest she should collapse.
"Lie down again for a few minutes, beloved, until you recover," he said
quickly.
He settled Myra back again among the cushions on the couch, and
insisted upon her drinking a glass of aguardiente, which made her feel
more feverish than ever but revived her and dispelled the faintness.
"Did I kiss you too hungrily, darling, and feast myself too long on
your sweet lips without pausing for breath?" asked Don Carlos, after a
pause, when he saw that Myra was recovering. He, too, was flushed and
rather breathless, and his long, sinewy hands were trembling slightly.
"Myra, beloved, have my kisses fired your heart?"
"You have hurt me," equivocated Myra, avoiding his glowing eyes. "I
feel faint and exhausted. Oh, surely I have suffered enough to-night!
My strength is spent. Oh, surely you won't be so cruel as to take
further advantage of my helplessness?"
Don Carlos sighed heavily, and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I did not mean to hurt you, and had forgotten that you must be weary,"
he said, after a moment of hesitation. "I will put you to bed,
beloved, and to-morrow you will tell me that you love me."
He bent down and picked Myra up as if she were a baby, cradling her in
his arms and smiling down into her startled blue eyes.
"Always, since our first meeting, I have longed to hold you in my arms
like this and to feel that you were wholly and completely mine," he
murmured, as he caressed Myra's cheek with his lips. "You are very
beautiful, my sweet love. The sweetness and loveliness of you
entrances and enraptures my heart. I shall spend my life admiring and
adoring and worshipping, exploring and delighting in the loveliness of
you, my heart's delight. Do you not feel, Myra mia, that here in your
lover's arms and on my breast you have found the home of your heart?"
Yet again Myra felt he was sapping her powers of resistance, casting a
spell over her, and she lay passive in his strong arms, breathing
gaspingly.
"Let me go," she pleaded brokenly. "Please let me go!"
"As you wish," said Don Carlos. "I shall put my sweet baby to bed."
He carried Myra through the winding, rocky passages to her room, at the
door of which Madre Dolores was waiting. The old woman cackled with
laughter at sight of them, and rubbed her skinny hands together
delightedly.
"Io! I see I shall not be wanted, master!" she chuckled, and scuffled
away, her skinny shoulders shaking a half-suppressed merriment which
betrayed her thoughts more than words could have done.
Dread gripped Myra's heart as Don Carlos carried her into the bedroom
and set her down gently on the side of the bed. Every vestige of
colour had drained out of her lovely face and she was trembling
violently.
"Do not be afraid, Myra darling," Don Carlos murmured caressingly. "I
can be gentle as any woman, and would not harm my precious treasure.
Are you afraid that the sight of you will be so enticing to your lover
when he takes off your dressing-gown that he will not be able to tear
himself away from you?"
"Don Carlos, it isn't fair!" burst out Myra tremulously. "Please go!"
"Not until I have put my sweet baby to bed, tucked her in, and kissed
her good-night," said Don Carlos, and Myra knew that further protest
would be useless.
So she had, perforce, to submit to his taking off her dressing-gown,
and the glowing ardour and admiration in his dark eyes when she stood
before him clad only in her filmy, sleeveless "nightie" brought the hot
colour flooding back to her fair face again.
"Once before, Myra mia, I have seen you like this--on that night in
Scotland when I put my letter on your pillow," breathed Don Carlos.
"Surely you are the loveliest and most seductive woman in the world!"
He swept Myra into his arms again and kissed her repeatedly before at
last laying her down on the bed. In a sort of panic Myra slid herself
under the bedclothes and begged him breathlessly to leave her, but he
paid no heed. He bent over her, his dark eyes glowing like twin
flames, and laid his cheek against her own.
"Bid me stay, beloved," he whispered. "Give me the love for which my
whole being is craving. Bid me stay."