“Mr. Richard Gordon?  I understand this gentleman’s name to be Muir,” she made voice gently.

Dick laughed with a touch of shame.  Now once in his life he wished he could prove an alibi.  For, under the calm judgment of that steady gaze, the thing he had done seemed scarce defensible.

“Don Manuel has it right, senorita.  Gordon is my name; Muir, too, for that matter.  Richard Muir Gordon is what I was christened.”

The underlying red of her cheeks had fled and left them clear olive.  One might have thought the scornful eyes had absorbed all the fire of her face.

“So you have lied to me, sir?”

“Let me lay the facts before you, first.  That’s a hard word, senorita.”

“You gave your name to me as Muir, You imposed yourself on my hospitality under false pretenses.  You are only a spy, come to my house to mole for evidence against me.”

“No—­no!” he cried sharply.  “You will remember that I did not want to come.  I foresaw that it might be awkward, but I did not foresee this.”

“That you would be found out before you had won your end?  I believe you, sir,” she retorted contemptuously.

“I see I’m condemned before I’m heard.”

“Will any explanation alter the facts?  Are you not a liar and a cheat?  You gave me a false name to spy out the land.”

“Am I the only one that gave a wrong name?” he asked.

“That is different,” she flamed.  “You had made a mistake and, half in sport, I encouraged you in it.  But you seem to have found out my real name since.  Yet you still accepted what I had to offer, under a false name, under false pretenses.  You questioned me about the grants.  You have lived a lie from first to last.”

“It ain’t as bad as you say, ma’am.  Don Manuel had told me it wasn’t safe to come here in my own name.  I didn’t care about the safety, but I wanted to see the situation exactly as it was.  I didn’t know who you were when I came here.  I took you to be Miss Maria Yuste.  I——­”

“My name is Maria Yuste Valencia Valdes,” the young woman explained proudly.  “When, may I ask, did you discover who I was?”

“I guessed it at Antelope Springs.”

“Then why did you not tell me then who you are?  Surely that was the time to tell me.  My deception did you no harm; yours was one no man of honor could have endured after he knew who I was.”

“I didn’t aim to keep it up very long.  I meant, in a day or two——­”

“A day or two,” she cried, in a blaze of scorn.  “After you had found out all I had to tell; after you had got evidence to back your robber-claim; after you had made me breathe the same air so long with a spy?”

Her face was very white; but she faced him in her erect slimness, with her dark eyes fixed steadily on him.

“You ain’t quite fair to me; but let that pass for the present.  When I asked you about the grants didn’t you guess who I was?  Play square with me.  Didn’t you have a notion?”