onica and her mother leave."

"You intend to persecute these ladies!"

"Not at all. But when they go to visit the Duchess of Carmona, that will
be--the time I shall choose for leaving Biarritz."

"Who has spoken of such a visit?"

"A person I trust."

He was silent for a moment, whether in surprise or anger I could not tell.
But at last he said, "I'm less well-informed than your friend as to the
plans of Lady Vale-Avon and her daughter. They may return to England; they
may go to friends in Paris, they may visit my mother. But this doesn't
concern strangers like yourself; and my advice to the Marques de Casa
Triana is, _whatever happens, keep out of Spain_."

"Do you threaten me?" I asked.

"I don't threaten--I warn."

"Thanks for your kind intentions. They give me food for thought."

"All the better. You'll be less likely to forget."

"I shan't forget," I answered. "Indeed, I shall profit by your advice."
And with that I walked away, putting on my mask.

As Romeo had not known at what hour he might wish to leave the house of
Capulet, he had ordered neither his own motor-car nor a carriage; but
luckily a cab was lingering in the neighbourhood on the chance of a fare.
I was glad not to walk to my hotel in the guise of Romeo; and I gained my
quarters without meeting curious eyes in the corridors.

As I expected, Dick was in our private sitting-room, smoking and reading a
novel.

"Well, what luck, friend Romeo?" he asked.

"Luck, and ill luck," said I. Then I told the story of the evening.

"Humph! you've gone and got yourself into a pretty scrape," was his
comment at the end.

"You call it a 'scrape' when by a miracle the sweetest girl alive has
fallen in love with you?"

"Just that, if the girl isn't old enough to know her own mind, and has a
mother who wouldn't let her know it if she could. You've gone so far now,
you'll have to go further--"

"As far as the end of the world, if necessary."

"Oh! you _Latin_ men, with your eyes of fire, your boiling passions, and
your exaggerated expressions! What do we Yankees and other sensible
persons see in you?"

"Heaven knows," said I, shrugging my shoulders.

"I doubt it. Why, in the name of common sense, as you'd got to the age of
twenty-seven without bothering about love, couldn't you wait till the age
of twenty-seven and a quarter, go quietly over to my country with me, a
long sight better than the 'end of the world,' and propose to a charming
America