When Longorio reappeared he found Alaire standing stiff and white
against the wall, with Dolores kneeling, her face still buried in
her mistress's gown.
"Give yourself no concern," he told them, quickly. "I beg a
thousand pardons for Felipe. Henceforth no one will molest you."
"Was that a--shot?" Alaire inquired faintly.
"Yes. It is all settled."
"You killed him?"
The general nodded. "Purely for the sake of discipline--one has to
be firm. Now your woman is badly frightened. Send her away so that
we may reach an understanding."
"Oh-h! This is frightful," Alaire gasped. "I can't talk to you.
Go--Let me go."
The man pondered for an instant. "Perhaps that would be better,"
he agreed, reluctantly, "for I see you, too, are unstrung. Very
well! My affairs will have to wait. Take a few hours to think over
what I have told you. When you have slept you will feel
differently about me. You will meet me with a smile, eh?" He
beamed hopefully.
"Sleep? You expect me to sleep?"
"Please," he begged. "Beauty is like a delicate flower, and sleep
is the dew that freshens it. Believe me, you can rest in all
security, for no one can come or go without my consent.
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