“Not very much, sir.  He has seen fit to threaten me, on account of some row he has had with a brother of mine in England.”

“In England!  The Duke of Bucclough?”

“Yes.  I haven’t the slightest knowledge of what it was all about, but evidently our Spanish friend got the worst of it.  He planned to buy me in at the sale; but, fortunately for me, you gained possession ahead of him.”

“Do you mean to say that he told you all this?”

“It came out in a moment of anger.”

Fairfax looked at me incredulously.

“See here, Carlyle,” he exclaimed bluntly, “I am not questioning your word, but it is a bit difficult for me to understand why a guest of mine should indulge in angry controversy with a government prisoner, sent overseas for sale as an indentured servant.  There must have been some unusual cause.  Haven’t I a right to know what that cause was, without using my authority to compel an answer?”

I hesitated, but only for a moment.  He undoubtedly was entitled to know, and besides there was nothing involved I needed to conceal.

“It is my impression, sir, that Mistress Dorothy was the unconscious cause.  She chanced to discover me alone on deck the night before we landed, and hastened to tell me of your purchase.  It was merely an act of kindness, as we had never spoken together before.  We were still talking across the rope, when Sanchez came out of the cabin, and joined us.  I imagine he may not have liked the interest both you and the young lady had shown in me since we came aboard.  Anyway when he found us there, he was not in good humor.  Mistress Dorothy resented his language, treated him coldly, and finally departed, leaving him decidedly angry.  He merely vented his spite on me.”

“But he said nothing about himself—­his motives?”

“Not a word, sir; yet it is plain to be seen that he is deeply interested in your niece.”

Fairfax frowned, ignoring the remark.

“But do you know the man—­who he is?”

I shook my head, the memory of Haley flashing into my mind, but as instantly dismissed as worthless.  Fairfax would only laugh at such a vague suspicion.  Yet why should the planter ask me such a question?  Could it be that the Spaniard was equally unknown to himself?

“But if he has quarreled with your brother,” he insisted, unsatisfied “you perhaps know something?”

“I have not seen my brother in years.  I doubt if I would know him if we met face to face.  As to this man, my knowledge of him is only what little I have seen and heard on board the Romping Betsy,” I answered soberly.  “I confess a prejudice; that I am unable to judge him fairly.  In the first place I do not like his race, nor his kind; but I did suppose, of course, that, as he was your guest, you considered him a man worthy your hospitality.”

Fairfax’s face reddened, and he must have felt the sting of these words, uttered as they were by the lips of his bondman.  I thought he would turn abruptly away, leaving them unanswered, but he was too much of a gentleman.