The dark eyes
under the thick lashes looked long and searchingly at him.
"Mr. Richard Gordon? I understand this gentleman's name to be Muir," she
made voice gently.
Dick laughed with a touch of shame. Now once in his life he wished he
could prove an alibi. For, under the calm judgment of that steady gaze,
the thing he had done seemed scarce defensible.
"Don Manuel has it right, _senorita_. Gordon is my name; Muir, too, for
that matter. Richard Muir Gordon is what I was christened."
The underlying red of her cheeks had fled and left them clear olive. One
might have thought the scornful eyes had absorbed all the fire of her
face.
"So you have lied to me, sir?"
"Let me lay the facts before you, first. That's a hard word,
_senorita_."
"You gave your name to me as Muir, You imposed yourself on my
hospitality under false pretenses. You are only a spy, come to my house
to mole for evidence against me."
"No--no!" he cried sharply. "You will remember that I did not want to
come. I foresaw that it might be awkward, but I did not foresee this."
"That you would be found out before you had won your end? I believe you,
sir," she retorted contemptuously.
"I see I'm condemned before I'm heard."
"Will any explanation alter the facts? Are you not a liar and a cheat?
You gave me a false name to spy out the land.
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