thing at best.’
‘You have rubber plants in Peru?’ Domine was interested.
‘Trees, mostly,’ he amended. ‘They grow wild in all parts of South America, most particularly in the rain forests of the Amazon basin.’
‘That’s in Brazil, isn’t it?’ Domine’s geography was not brilliant, but she knew a few elemental facts. ‘Have you been to Brazil?’
A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth, increasing the disturbing activity of Domine’s nervous system. ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied tolerantly. ‘I have been to Brazil. And to the Amazon basin.’
Domine was fascinated. ‘Have you seen the Angel Falls?’ she asked, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hands. ‘It’s the highest waterfall in the world, isn’t it? I saw a programme about it on television. It looked beautiful!’
‘It is,’ he agreed quietly. ‘But the falls are not in Brazil. It’s Venezuela you’re thinking of. Not the Amazon at all, but the Churun river.’
‘Is it?’ Domine pulled a wry face. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid geography was not my strong point.’
He shook his head. ‘South America is a long way from Manchester. I doubt, for instance, if I could tell you the source of the river Thames.’
‘I doubt if I could either!’ confessed Domine, with a gurgle of laughter, and for a moment their eyes met without either hostility or antagonism. He smiled, and it was miraculous how much younger he looked, the deeply-etched lines ironed away, his mouth mobile and sensitive. She wanted to go on looking at him, and a crazy impulse made her say: ‘You’re not disliking me so much now, are you, Luis?’ but as soon as the words were uttered she knew she had gone too far.
‘Whether or not I like you, Miss Temple, is not in question,’ he told her severely. ‘I suggest we return to the real reason for this meeting. Have you considered the suggestion I made to you?’
Domine pressed her lips together, irritated by his apparent ability to switch off any human feelings. For a second time she had had a brief glimpse of another side to his character, but he seemed determined not to allow any emotion to colour his judgment.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said now, refusing to be coerced. ‘And my name is Domine, as you know very well. You don’t call Lisel Miss Temple, and yet that’s her name as well.’
He gave her an impatient look, but the arrival of the waiter to clear their plates created a diversion. By the time their chicken casserole had been served, Domine had had time to wish she hadn’t brought Lisel’s name into their conversation, and she applied herself to the meal without expecting any response.
‘I have known—Lisel for a number of years,’ he surprised her by remarking, after the waiter had departed. Filling her glass with the mildly sweet hock he had chosen to go with the meal, he added: ‘I knew her father and her mother, and when they were killed, naturally I did what I could for the child.’
Domine’s eyes were wide. ‘You knew Uncle Edward, then?’
His mouth twisted. ‘As Edward Temple was Lisel’s father, that seems an unnecessary question.’
Domine flushed. ‘I was surprised, that’s all. I shouldn’t have thought Uncle Edward was your type.’ She paused. ‘Mark’s supposed to be very like him.’
‘Really?’ He raised his wine glass to his lips. ‘I find that hard to believe. When I knew Edward Temple, he was not at all like your brother. For one thing, he had abandoned the material world. Money meant nothing to him. He wrote poetry—and he painted; I have two of his water-colours myself. He seemed totally out of touch with your society, as I know it.’
Domine forked a piece of chicken into her mouth before replying. Then, thoughtfully, she said: ‘Perhaps it would be more to the point to say that the material world had abandoned him. My grandfather never forgave him for running away to get married, and I believe he never had a steady job for years. Writing poetry and painting water-colours might be very pleasant, but it seldom pays the bills.’ She produced a smug smile. ‘Grandpa’s words, not mine.’
‘I see.’ A frown drew his dark brows together for a moment, then he seemed to dismiss the thought that had caused it. ‘Well, it is of no matter. Lisel’s parents are dead now, and beyond the reach of any retribution but God’s. However, the problem of your cousin still remains.’
Domine shrugged. ‘Why do you think I might be able to influence her? Aren’t you afraid I might—contaminate her?’
The downward curve of his mouth revealed the irritation he was keeping in check, and pressing on, she exclaimed restlessly: ‘All right, tell me about Peru, then. I know the capital is Lima, but that’s about all. Do you live in Lima? Does Lisel? Is this place—what did you call it?—Puerto Limas?—is that near Lima?’
Helping himself to more wine, he said: ‘Puerto Limas is almost six hundred miles from Lima. I told you, it is a village, in the mountains. With very little civilisation as you know it within easy reach. However, there is an air service between Lima and Arequipa and road links to the outlying villages.’
‘Six hundred miles!’ Domine was amazed. She had not imagined it was so far. It was almost frightening contemplating the implications of its remoteness, and isolation. Then she realised he had still told her nothing about himself, and her lips tightened with impatience.
‘That disturbs you?’ he enquired now, misunderstanding her expression, and she held up her head, regarding him frustratedly.
‘You disturb me, señor,’ she declared, emphasising the title. ‘What do I know about you? What have you told me about yourself? Nothing! I think that’s rather disturbing. How do I know what you tell me about Lisel is true? She could be dead, for all we know, and you——’
‘I advise you stop there,’ he interrupted her sharply, his eyes glittering coldly, like black ice. ‘Your solicitor, Mr Holland, verified my position long before I came to England, and if you have any doubts about my reputation, I suggest you take them up with him.’
Domine was unrepentant. ‘Well, why are you so reticent? Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Or is there some ghastly skeleton in your family cupboard that you’re afraid is going to come out?’
She did not think he was going to answer her, and she was beginning to wish she had not spoken so recklessly when he said harshly:
‘I am inclined to regret issuing that invitation, Miss Temple. My motives seemed simple enough—that you should get to know your cousin, so that when she comes to England she will have at least one friend. But you seem to think that gives you the right to question me about my private affairs. I assure you, it does not.’
Domine played with the handle of her fork for several moments after his quelling injunction, and then, deciding she might as well damn her chances completely, she replied:
‘You’re a bore, do you know that? And just too conventional to be true! Why shouldn’t I be curious about you? I don’t know what the people are like in that way-out country you come from, but if they’re like you, then believe me, I don’t want to come!’
His features were rigid after this little assertion, and a peculiar shiver of fear ran through
