'You're dramatizing the whole thing!' Victor declared hotly.

'Well, let him go to the police, that's WhatIsay. We' llsee who has friends around here.'

'Victor, stop it!' Emma had heard enough- Fumblingly, she drew off her diamond engagement ring. 'Here! Take this! We're finished!'

Victor was obviously astounded. 'Now look here, Emma- 'No, you look here!' she interrupted sharply. 'I thought I knew you - I thought I knew everything about you. But I don't. All right, Miguel shouldn't have hit you the other evening, but if he hadn't you were quite prepared to use any methods to throw him out of the house.'

'And why not?'

Emma shook her head. 'All right, maybe I'm to blame. After all, if I hadn't got involved with him, none of this would have happened.'

'I wondered when you'd realize that!' snorted Victor resentfully.

'Making a fool of yourself! I suppose that's why you've changed your hair-style - bought those ridiculous teenage clothes-'

'They're not teenage clothes. And I bought them because I wanted to prove something to myself. As for making a fool of myself, I don't see how.'

Victor sneered, 'Don't you? You don't suppose I'm in any doubt as to why you've broken our engagement, do you? You think that if you're free, Salvaje might become interested in you. Well, I shouldn't count on it! From what I hear, you're not the only pebble on his beach-'

Emma's face burned; 'I'd like you to go, Victor.'

'And if I don't want to?'

Emma looked round helplessly. She could hardly see Mrs. Cook rushing to her aid in the circ.u.mstances.

'Please,' she said. 'We have nothing more to say to one another.'

'I disagree.' Victor was breathing heavily, rivulets of perspiration running down his forehead. 'Emma, be sensible-'

Suddenly the door bell rang. And as on that other occasion when Miguel had arrived so unexpectedly, Emma and Victor stood motionless, waiting for Mrs. Cook to answer the door.

'If that's Salvaje, I'll break his b.l.o.o.d.y neck!' muttered Victor furiously, but the veins that stood out on his thick neck bore witness to his extreme state of tension..

The lounge door opened and Mrs. Cook appeared. 'It's Senor Castillo, miss,' she said expressionlessly.

Emma drew a shaky breath. 'Oh! Well, show him in, Mrs. Cook, will you?'

Victor frowned angrily. 'Castillo!' he muttered. 'Who the devil's he?'

Emma ignored him and went forward as Juan Castillo entered the room, dark, and broad, and somehow familiar in navy overcoat and dark suit. The Mexican's gaze flickered over Victor speculatively, and then he gave his attention to Emma, his eyes mirroring his admiration.

'Buenos dias, senorita'

Emma smiled nervously. 'H-h.e.l.lo. Er - this is - Mr. Harrison; Victor, this is Senor Salvaje's manager, Senor Castillo.'

The two men nodded at one another. Victor made "no attempt to shake hands and the Mexican's lips curled faintly. Emma felt awkward. What was she supposed to do now?

However, Juan seemed to have no such inhibitions. 'Miguel sent me,'

he explained, focusing his attention on Emma. >'He thought there might be some questions you would like to ask that I could answer.'

'Oh! Oh, I see.' Emma glanced helplessly at Victor. Then she indicated an armchair and looking at Juan said: 'Won't you sit down?'

Juan unfastened his overcoat, but he didn't sit down and Emma sighed. 'Er- Mr. Harrison was just leaving,' she ventured at last.

'Oh, was he?' Juan raised his dark eyebrows questioningly. Then he stepped backward and opened the door again. 'Permit me!'

Victor's jaw tightened and for an instant Emma thought he was about to say something more, but then common sense seemed to a.s.sert itself and instead he looked at Emma, weighing the ring she had returned to him in his hand. 'We'll talk later,' he said insistently.

Emma held up her head. 'I don't think so, Victor.'

Victor hesitated, thrust the ring into his jacket pocket, and then walked out of the room. When Emma would have followed to see him out, Juan closed the door between them, and she halted uncertainly.

'You have made your decision, senorita.?'

Emma looked at him, and shrugged slowly. 'I - oh, yes, I suppose so.'

Juan nodded. 'Is good,' he said, with satisfaction, and took off his overcoat.

Emma gathered her composure. 'Can I offer you a drink?'

'Coffee, perhaps,' replied Juan. 'I do not drink anything but tequila^ and I somehow do not think you have any of that, have you?'

Emma shook her head. 'I - er - I'll just ask Mrs. Cook to make some coffee.'

Juan inclined his head politely, and with another shrug she gathered together the cups she and Victor had used on to the tray and carried them out. Airs. Cook was still uncommunicative, but Emma merely requested the coffee and left her. She had no intention of indulging in another argument with the housekeeper right now.

Juan was an easy companion, He drank his coffee and talked casually about the contrasts between his country and hers, making her laugh as he described his first encounter with the-colder climate of North America. Then, as she relaxed with him, he said: 'You want to know about Miguel, si.'

Emma flushed. 'You make it sound so - so inquisitive.'

'But no.' Juan shook his head. In my country where marriages can still be arranged by parents when their children are but babes in arms, it is common for arrangements to be discussed by representatives of both parties. However, in your case, your father is away, is he not?'

Her father!

Emma shifted restlessly. What would he really Say to all this?

When he discovered she had broken her engagement with Victor? She could almost hear the dissension in his voice. He had always liked Victor, they had a lot in common, but that didn't mean she had to marry him, she told herself desperately. But what would he think of Miguel? a small voice answered. A musician; a moody alien individual; a South American!

Juan was watching her expressive face, and with perception he said: 'You do not think your father will approve if you go ahead with this, do you?'

'You-you know - about - about-'

'I know Miguel has asked you to marry him, yes.'

'Do - do you approve?' Emma leant towards him.

Juan considered her thoughtfully. 'I don't know. I don't know you well enough to be able to answer that.'

'And I don't know Miguel either!' she exclaimed.

'That's why I am here,' observed Juan quietly.

'All right, tell me about him. How old is he? Where does he live?

Does he have any family?'

Juan drew a cheroot out of his pocket and asked whether she objected.

Emma shook her head and after lighting it, he said: 'Bien, I will try to explain. Miguel lives with his father at Lacustre Largo - that is the name of his father's house, you understand.' Emma nodded and he went on: 'It is a beautiful place, a beautiful part of the country!' He pressed his thumb and forefinger together with obvious pride. 'So!

His father is a rich man, a very rich man, with much land and much resources.' He considered the glowing tip of his cheroot.

'Always, Don Carlos is keen that Miguel should become a concert pianist! He was always - how do you say it. -er-'

'Adept?' supplied Emma questioningly.

'Si, that will do. He was adept at playing the piano. From being a very little boy, you understand.' Emma nodded again and Juan smiled. 'So - when he is older, he is successful, very successful, and Don-Carlos is delighted!'

'You haven't mentioned Miguel's mother. Is she dead? Doesn't he have any brothers or sisters?'

Juan hesitated, and then at last he said: 'Si, senorita, Miguel has brothers ^and sisters. His mother lives, also.'

'Oh!' Emma felt slightly relieved. There was something rea.s.suring about a mother - brothers and sisters.

'Miguel will tell you about his family himself,' Juan was saying now.

'Is there anything else?'

'You haven't told me how old he is.'

'Thirty-three, senorita ,' Juan "smiled. 'Is that all?'

Emma cupped her chin on her hand. 'No. There are heaps of queries, but they will have to wait.' She rose abruptly to her feet.

'Mine is not an easy decision, senor.'

She turned to him. 'You haven't told me how he is this morning.'

'Better, I think. At least the ribs are easier. He slept after you had gone, and that is what he needs - rest ! He will get it at Lacustre Largo.'

Emma stared at him. 'He's going home? When?'

'The end of next week, I believe, senorita.'

'The end of next week?' Emma was astounded. 'And I suppose if I - if I agree to marry him - he will come back after Christmas.'

Juan frowned. 'After Christmas, senorita ? No. If you are to marry Miguel, you will leave when he does.'

Emma gasped, 'But I couldn't! I mean -1 should have to write to my father ... in Canada. He would want to be here-'

Juan rose now, looking at her patiently. 'That is impossible, senorita.'

Emma made a helpless movement of her hands. 'But you can't mean to tell me that Miguel expects me to marry him before we leave?'

'That is exactly his intention, senorita ,' replied Juan calmly. 'And what is more, I think you will do it!'

Emma went to see Miguel that evening. She had taken some time deciding what to wear and had finally put on one of the dresses Victor had liked so much. It was very plain, its navy darkness unrelieved by any adornment, and yet with her newly styled hair it looked altogether different. She had been tempted to keep on the trouser suit, but it was hardly the attire for an evening appointment, ,and besides, she was no longer trying to prove anything - to anyone.

To her surprise, a girl let her into the suite, a tall, dark girl dressed in a long black skirt and a white frilled blouse. She was a very attractive young woman and Emma felt the first twinges of something she was later to recognize as jealousy.

'Good evening, senorita .' The girl was polite but cool. 'Please to come in. Senor Salvaje will be with you in a few moments.'

She took Emma's black cape and hung it away and then crossed to a small bar and offered her a drink. Emma chose sherry, and a few moments later the gla.s.s was put into her hand.

'Please to sit down,' said the girl, taking charge of the situation.

'You are Senorita Seaton, of course. My name is Loren Delmar. I am secretary to Senor Salvaje.'

Miguel's secretary! Emma was surprised. She had not known he possessed the services of a secretary. But then she knew very little about his entourage at all. There was no sign of Juan Castillo this evening and she was rather disappointed. She had felt at ease with the quiet, older man. Perhaps it was a legacy from Victor and her father, she thought. She was used to older men.

'You have a job, senorita ?' Loren was asking now and Emma dragged her attention back to the present.

'I - yes. I'm a sort of secretary, too, I work in an agency.'

'I see.' Loren looked politely interested. 'You live in London?'

'Kensington,' Emma nodded.

There was silence for a few moments as they both tried to think of something else to say, and then someone knocked at the outer door.

Loren sprang to her feet.

'Ah! That will be Paul,' she said, with a faint smile. 'Excuse me a moment.'

She went to the door and opened it, and glancing round ; Emma saw another man entering the suite. He was about the some height as Juan, but fairer, with silvery blond hair that fell over his forehead. Emma hadn't the faintest idea who he might be, so she remained where she was and tried to quell the b.u.t.terflies which were beginning to disturb her stomach.

Loren brought the newcomer across to the chair where Emma was sitting and skid: 'Allow me to present Senor Paul Gregory, senorita.

Paul, this is - Senorita Seaton.'

'Doesn't she have a name?' queried Paul Gregory, with a smile, and Emma took an immediate liking to him. She recalled his name, too, Miguel had been coming from Paul Gregory's house the night he had given her a lift in the fog.

'Yes,' she said now, as he took her hand in greeting. 'I'm Emma.'

'Emma!' He said the name slowly. 'Yes, I like it.' He turned back to Loren. 'Get me a Scotch, there's a good girl. I'm parched. The city traffic is appalling at this hour of the evening.'

Loren Delmar twisted her lips, and then with an indifferent shrug went to do his bidding, but Emma sensed she didn't care for the casual dismissal. Paul Gregory didn't seem to notice, however, and subsided into the chair nearest to her and said: 'Isn't it terrible about Miguel's fingers?'