Red Lotus by Catherine Airlie Page A

known."
    Swiftly her eyes shot up to his, meeting the cold blue
     
    gaze which had disconcerted her so much earlier in the afternoon.
    "Are you trying to tell me that you have been left in charge here?" she asked incredulously.
    "Does it seem so amazing to you?" The hard mouth had not relaxed, although he looked faintly amused by her disbelief. "I have served your uncle for more than ten years—conscientiously, I hope. I was brought up in a neighbouring valley where my mother struggled unsuccessfully with one misfortune after another when my father died. When she, too, died, I was brought to San Lozaro and given a home."
    She was silent a moment, wondering why he had confessed so much.
    "Your father was English, of course," she said at last.
    "Both my parents were. They loved Lozaro Alto—the valley above this one—and they made their home there. My father was a writer of sorts—a dreamer, perhaps—and they grew vines in the valley, but it did not pay. After his death my mother planned to return to England, but she could not tear herself away. She could not leave the sun. Lozaro Alto had become her life."
    "And so you want to remain here?"
    "I shall remain on the island whatever happens."
    "What—power has Julio?" she found herself asking, remembering her cousin's impassioned outburst of little more than an hour ago.
    "None at all until he is twenty-one. Your uncle was an Englishman, remember!"
    Felicity forced a smile.
    "I can imagine him being almost aggressively British," she admitted.
    "At least it may pay dividends in Julio's case."
    She did not know about that. She could not imagine her cousin submitting to further domination now that his father was dead. The hand that had been on the rein had slackened and an eighteen-year-old Spaniard with a dash of Guanche blood in his veins would be no more amenable to an enforced discipline than an English teenager in similar circumstances.
    If Philip Arnold meant to take up the reins again and even to use the curb, might not Julio rush off headlong to
     
    some form of distraction while the bit remained temporarily between his strong white teeth?
    "Do you—expect trouble?" she asked.
    He shrugged.
    "I shall try to avoid it where I can, but you heard Julio to-night. Unfortunately he labours under the delusion that he is being unfairly treated. His father took a firm hand with him some time ago, and he has never liked me." He strode back towards the window. "He blames me, you see, for his sister's death."
    "Maria?"
    The word had forced itself from between Felicity's lips and she remembered the effect it had had on Sabino when she had first arrived. And also the effect on the man who now stood with his back towards her so that she might not see his face.
    "Perhaps I can most safely call it the tragedy of San Lozaro and leave it at that." His voice was harsh and almost cruel in its bitterness. "It is something that we never discuss."
    And something which I must not ask about again, Felicity thought with a small, pained intake of breath as she remembered that Maria had been her uncle's favourite child.
    Yet, surely Robert Hallam had not shared Julio's belief that Philip was responsible for the tragedy which had led to his daughter's death? Otherwise, how could he have entrusted his family's entire future to this man?
    Baffled and suddenly overwhelmingly tired by the events of a very long day, she felt that she could not attempt to cope with the problem or hope to bring any very clear reasoning to bear upon it until she had come to know her cousins better.
    She had still to meet Conchita, and it was almost midnight. Where was she? And quite apart from her fear of death, what had kept her away from San Lozaro at such a time? There was, she felt, some other reason for Conchita's absence.
    Curiously enough, she did not want to ask Philip Arnold about Conchita. His tight mouth and drawn brows when he turned back from the window were evidence enough that Conchita should have been