Don Carlos's eyebrows rose still higher, his lips twitched, and Tony
Standish got the impression that it was only with difficulty he was
refraining from laughing outright. That angered him, and his ruddy
face became still redder.
"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" he demanded, after a pause.
"This is no laughing matter."
"My dear Mr. Standish, what can I say for myself?" Don Carlos retorted,
quietly and gravely. "Your demand for an explanation places me in a
most embarrassing position. How should one answer in the
circumstances. If Miss Rostrevor has told you I have been making love
to her, I cannot deny the accusation without casting doubt on the word
of the most charming and beautiful girl in the world. Yet if I admit
that Miss Rostrevor is justified in her accusation, you may decide I
have been acting dishonourably, and I shall lose your friendship.
Condenacion! Was ever man placed in such an awkward position!"
"Look here, you will certainly make matters worse if you dare to
insinuate that Myra was not telling the truth," exclaimed Standish
hotly.
"I quite appreciate that, my dear Mr. Standish, and I realise, also,
that Miss Rostrevor would be justified in hating me if I dared to cast
doubt on her assertions," said Don Carlos more gravely than ever, with
a sigh and a shrug. "So I must, perforce, confess that I have been
making persistent love to Miss Rostrevor ever since I first met her,
and--well, I am quite prepared to take the consequences. How do you
deal with such a situation in England? In my country we would fight a
duel, and the lady would marry the survivor. Should you think of
fighting a duel, however, Mr. Standish, it is only fair to warn you
that I am an expert swordsman and a dead shot. How shall we deal with
the matter?"
Baffled, and at a loss to know how to deal with the situation, Tony
Standish glowered at him, with the uncomfortable sensation that he was
making a fool of himself, and that Don Carlos was inwardly laughing at
him.
"It isn't a matter to jest about," he said stiffly. "That sort of
thing isn't done in England, and I must ask you to refrain from
approaching Miss Rostrevor again."
"I am desolated, señor!" exclaimed Don Carlos, with a despairing
gesture. "I find it difficult to understand the English
conventionalities in the matter of love-making. If you were Spanish,
my dear Standish, you would not complain of my making love to your
betrothed unless you were unsure of her and were afraid of my winning
her away from you. If you regard me as a dangerous rival, and the
adorable Miss Rostrevor takes me seriously, and you are afraid----"