"I warned you that El Diablo Cojuelo might carry you off and teach you how to love," answered Don Carlos, his grave face illuminated by a boyish, impish smile.
"Oh, don't talk nonsense!" exclaimed Myra impatiently. "You cannot excuse your conduct. I haven't been robbing the poor or anything of the sort, and if you attempt to keep me here there will be trouble. Tony will move heaven and earth to find me."
"I could excuse myself, if excuses were necessary, by explaining that I have captured girls before to save them from marrying men they did not love," said Don Carlos. "El Diablo Cojuelo fell in love with you at first sight, and will prevent you from marrying the man to whom you are betrothed but do not love."
"Don Carlos, please be sensible," pleaded Myra, at heart a little fearful now. "Don't you realise that this escapade may have serious consequences for you? Tony is sure to communicate with the British Ambassador, and the affair may become one of international importance. The best thing you can do is to take me back to-morrow morning, and explain that the whole affair was an elaborately-planned practical joke."
"I am quite agreeable to do that, Myra, provided you promise to marry me and confess that you love me," said Don Carlos. "We can explain that we succeeded in escaping from the clutches of El Diablo Cojuelo, or, if you prefer it, you can tell Mr. Antony Standish that I rescued you, and you have fallen in love with your rescuer."
"I shall do nothing of the sort," exclaimed Myra with spirit.
"In that case, Myra, you will remain here as the captive of El Diablo Cojuelo, and the outlaw will try to teach you the meaning of love and passion, teach you to respond to the call of your heart--if you have a heart. You shall have your first lesson now, my sweet captive."
He sat down beside Myra on the couch as he spoke, flung his arms around her and drew her into a close embrace in spite of her frantic struggles, crushing her close to his breast and kissing her lips, her cheeks, and her breast. Myra screamed breathlessly, but he only laughed at her.
"Why waste your breath, sweet lady?" he laughed. "No one can hear your cries, except, perhaps, Mother Dolores; but if all my band were within hearing not one man would even think of daring to attempt to intervene, no, not even if you were his own daughter. You are completely at my mercy."