Sikes leaned on his rifle waiting, and as Moore halted the panting team, and leaped over the wheel to the ground, Cateras came forth from one of the open doors and crossed the intervening space on foot.

He was smoking a cigarette, the blue wreath of smoke circling above his head in the still air.
"The lady is to be placed in my care," he said almost insolently.
"Your hand, _senorita_." Miss Donovan hesitated, the memory of Moore's words of warning yet ringing in her ears.

The handsome face, with its smiling lips and eyes, suddenly appeared to her a mask assumed to conceal the unclean soul behind.

Moore broke the silence with a protest.
"In your care, _senor_?
The girl is here as prisoner to Bill Lacy." "So I told Mendez," he said indifferently.

"But he is in ill humour this morning, and took small interest in the affair.