Alaire, too, had a further cause for worry.  Of late Ed Austin had grown insultingly suspicious.  More than once he had spoken of Dave Law in a way to make his wife’s face crimson, and he had wilfully misconstrued her recital of Longorio’s attentions.  Fearing, therefore, that in spite of Paloma Jones’s presence Ed would resent the general’s call, Alaire strained her ears for the sound of his coming.

It was late when Austin arrived.  Visitors at Las Palmas were unusual at any time; hence the sound of strange voices in the brightly lighted living-room at such an hour surprised him.  He came tramping in, booted and spurred, a belligerent look of inquiry upon his bloated features.  But when he had met his wife’s guests his surprise turned to black displeasure.  His own sympathies in the Mexican struggle were so notorious that Longorio’s presence seemed to him to have but one possible significance.  Why Paloma Jones was here he could not imagine.

Thus far Alaire’s caller had succeeded in ignoring Miss Jones, and now, with equal self-assurance, he refused to recognize Ed’s hostility.  He remained at ease, and appeared to welcome this chance of meeting Austin.  Yet it soon became evident that his opinion of his host was far from flattering; beneath his politeness he began to show an amused contempt, which Alaire perceived, even though her husband did not.  Luis Longorio was the sort of man who enjoys a strained situation, and one who shows to the best advantage under adverse conditions.  Accordingly, Ed’s arrival, instead of hastening his departure, merely served to prolong his stay.

It was growing very late now, and Paloma was frantic.  Profiting by her first opportunity, she whispered to Alaire “For God’s sake, send him away.”

Alaire’s eyes were dark with excitement, “Yes,” said she.  “Talk to him, and give me a chance to have a word alone with Ed.”

The opportunity came when Austin went into the dining-room for a drink.  Alaire excused herself to follow him.  When they were out of sight and hearing her husband turned upon her with an ugly frown.

“What’s that Greaser doing here?” he asked, roughly.

“He called to pay his respects.  You must get him away.”

“I must?” Ed glowered at her.  “Why don’t you?  You got him here in my absence.  Now that I’m home you want me to get rid of him, eh?  What’s the idea?”

“Don’t be silly.  I didn’t know he was coming and—­he must be crazy to risk such a thing.”

“Crazy?” Ed’s lip curled.  “He isn’t crazy.  I suppose he couldn’t stay away any longer.  By God, Alaire—­”

Alaire checked this outburst with a sharp exclamation:  “Don’t make a scene!  Don’t you understand he holds over fifty thousand dollars’ worth of La Feria cattle?  Don’t you understand we can’t antagonize him?”

“Is that what he came to see you about?”