Paul, persistent and always
hopeful, was putting down his anger and trying to think of other effective
words that he might use. But none would come into his head, and he, too,
rose.
"I am sorry that we cannot agree. Captain Alvarez," he said with the grave
courtesy that became him so well, "and therefore I will bid you good day."
A thin smile passed over the face of the Spaniard and the blue eyes shed a
momentary, metallic gleam.
"I pray you not to be in haste, Senor Cotter," he said. "Be our guest for
a while."
"I must go," replied Paul, "although I thank you for the courtesy."
"But we cannot part with you now," said the Spaniard, "you are on Spanish
soil. Others of your kind may be near, also, and you and they have come,
uninvited. I would know more about it."
"You mean that you will detain me?" said Paul in surprise.
The Spaniard delicately stroked his pointed beard.
"Perhaps that is the word," he replied. "As I said, you have trespassed
upon our domain, and I must hold you, for a time, at least. I know not
what plot is afoot"
"As a prisoner?"
"If you wish to call it so."
"And yet there is no war between your country and mine!"
The Spaniard delicately stroked his pointed beard again.
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