“Edmundo was such a gentle man. It seems strange that he should kill for a ruby cross.”

“One never knows what people will do. Perhaps he loved someone and wished her to have the cross. Who can say? And he did it on an impulse and then he was caught and his future threatened. They would hang him for stealing a valuable cross. So he killed to save himself.”

Manuela shook her head. “It was awful when she cursed him. I wanted to run out. But then she talked of you, Mistress.”

“What did she say of me, Manuela?”

“She said that she wished to see you. She said that she would have come to you but because she is ill you must go to her.”

“I will go,” I answered.

Manuela nodded.

I did not tell Felipe I was going. I thought he might prevent me. But I knew I had to speak to Pilar. I must try to explain. I wished I had done so during our encounter in the street, but I had been too taken aback to do so then. I wanted to ask her what she meant by calling me a witch. I wanted to assure her that I was no such thing.

It occurred to me that she knew something about the image. Had she put it there? How could she have done so? She did not come to the Hacienda. Perhaps she had people working for her there, people who hated me as much as she did, who wanted to prove that I was guilty in bringing about Isabella’s death.

I packed a basket with some delicacies from the kitchen and went to see her.

As I opened the gate a terrible revulsion came over me. It was as though my whole being were crying out a warning to me. There was the patio. There was the window and the balcony at which I had seen Isabella with her doll. Here Edmundo had picked her up so gently when she fell. In my mind’s eye I saw Edmundo’s lifeless body hanging from a rope in the plaza of La Laguna.

How quiet it was! I pushed open the door. I could scarcely bear to look. There was the staircase. I pictured her poor broken body lying at the bottom of it.

I stood hesitating.

Go away, said a voice within me. Run … while there is time. Leave this place. You are in imminent danger.

Someone was standing behind me. One of the servants must have seen me enter the house and followed me.

She looked at me, her eyes wide. I could see that she was afraid of me.

I said: “I came to see Pilar.”

She nodded and turned her eyes as though she feared she might be contaminated by some evil.

She started to run up the stairs. I followed her.

On a landing she opened a door. I went in.

The room was dark, for it had been built to keep out the sun. On the bed lay Pilar; her hair streaming about her shoulders gave her a wild look.

I took a step toward the bed and tried to speak normally.

“I’m sorry you are ill, Pilar. I have brought you these. I heard that you wanted to see me.”

“Do you think I’d eat anything that came from the Hacienda … that house of sin? Do you think I’d eat anything you brought me? You … witch! You have done this. You have cast your spells. You lusted for him and you bewitched him. And her death is at your door.”

“Listen to me, Pilar. I am no witch. I know nothing of witchcraft. I was not here when Doña Isabella died.”

Her laughter was horrible, cruel and sneering.

“You knew nothing! You know everything. You, and those like you, are wise in the ways of the Devil. You marked her down, my innocent child. Had she not suffered enough? Nay. You wanted him. You cast a spell. And she died … my poor innocent lamb … my poor sweet child.”

“I cast no spells…”

“Don’t tell me your lies. Save them for others … when the time comes. They’ll not believe you any more than I do.” She thrust her hand under the pillow and when she brought it out she was holding something. To my horror I saw that it was the figure of Isabella.

“Where did you get that? Who gave it to you?” I demanded.

“I have it. The evidence. This will prove to them. And you will die … die … even as she died … and more cruelly.”

“Where did you get that?” I repeated. “I saw it but once when I found it in my drawer. You put it there, Pilar.”

“I? I have not left this bed.”

“Then someone working for you…”

“Tell them that when you stand before the tribunal. Tell them that when you feel the flames licking your limbs.”

I could not bear to stay longer. I knew there was nothing I could say to her. I turned and ran out of the room, down the staircase and out into the fresh air. I did not stop running until I reached the Hacienda.

Felipe was horrified when he heard what had happened.

“If she has informed against you they will strike at any time. We must be ready as soon as the ship comes.”

And so the uneasy days passed. One cannot live at such high tension day after day. One grows accustomed even to that.

Felipe said: “I can’t understand it. If she had informed against you they would have come by now. It is because she is sick that she has taken no action. While she is confined to her room she cannot move against us. While she is ill we are safe. And the ship will be here any day.”

I visualized the life which awaited us in Spain.

We should live in Don Felipe’s country estate. He would be in attendance on the King at times and have to pay his visits to the gloomy Escorial and perhaps be sent off on missions to other lands, in which case we should accompany him.

It would be a life not dissimilar to that which I had led at the Hacienda. I should never grow accustomed to Spanish solemnity, for I could never become a part of it; nor did I believe that Felipe wished me to, for he had loved me as I was and perhaps because I was so different from the women of his land.

I must try to forget England. I was married to a Spaniard; my son was half Spanish.

If I could but hear that my mother was safe and well and that she knew that I was, I suppose I could in time become reconciled and I wondered often what had become of John Gregory.

Soon the ship must come and we would leave this house in which I had experienced so many emotions. I would try to start afresh when I left it—as I must.

I talked a great deal to Honey of the future. She had adjusted herself more easily than I. She was less tempestuous—or perhaps she was more successful in disguising her feelings. Just as she had appeared to be completely happy with Edward now she seemed so with Luis.

Her attitude was that we must accept life and do our best to be happy in it.

Our parting would be a bitter blow to us both, but we must accept it. We must think of our reunion which both Felipe and Luis had promised us should come in time.

My fears were almost lulled to rest when on that never-to-be-forgotten night there came the knocking on the door.

The candles had been lighted. We sat in that gracious room—myself and Felipe, Honey and Luis. Honey was playing the lute; and how beautiful she looked with her graceful head bent a little and her eyes downcast so that her thick lashes made a dark shadow against her skin—Honey of the indestructible beauty which no hardship could impair.

She was singing a Spanish song. We did not sing the English ones, only when we were out together in the open where none could hear.

Then we heard the sound from without.

We started up. Felipe came swiftly to my side. He put his arm around me. He wanted me to go up to our bedroom so that he could hide me there.

But already we could hear the voices and knocking on the door in the portico. Someone screamed and then there were the sounds of footsteps.

The door of the salon was flung open. I saw John Gregory and a great joy swept over me.

“He comes from England,” I cried.

And then I saw the man I had pictured so many times, his eyes flashing blue fire and there was mockery and murder in them. Jake Pennlyon had come to the Hacienda.

He was looking at me and he laughed triumphantly when he saw me. “I’ve come for you,” he cried. “Which is the fellow who took my woman?”