“I imagine that you are expected to do so,” Jimmy said drily.

“Tell me exactly what has happened,” El Diablo commanded.

Skye thought for a moment that Jimmy might resent the note of authority in his voice.

To her relief her cousin sat down on the chair by the bed and told how, having heard the announcement that a revolution had broken out in Mariposa, he had flown to Jācara and later on to Montevideo to find Skye and the yacht.

“What has happened to the Army?” El Diablo asked.

“There was no fighting by the time I got there,” Jimmy replied. “People were rushing about the streets, waving flags and behaving as if they had suddenly been granted a holiday. The shops were closed and some of them were boarded up. Everybody was in such a festive mood that it was hard to get any sense out of them.”

“There couldn’t have been much bloodshed at that rate,” El Diablo commented.

“As far as I could see it was no more dangerous than a Bank Holiday on Hampstead Heath might have been,” Jimmy replied.

“I am sure you are glad about that,” Skye said teasingly.

“I was,” he agreed. “If there’s one thing I really dislike it is a trigger-happy gaucho!”

“How soon can we get back?” El Diablo enquired.

“By tomorrow morning,” Skye replied.

“Can we wire Juan that I am coming?”

“Of course. Where shall I send it?”

“If you will give me some paper and a pencil I will write out a message.”

She brought him a pad and held it steady while he wrote several messages. She saw him wince as he tried to raise himself a little higher on his pillows and she knew that he was in pain, however much he might try to disguise it.

He looked pale and she remembered that he had lost a great deal of blood.

“You won’t be able to go ashore,” she said quietly. “You can give your orders from the yacht and those you want to see can come aboard.”

“Nonsense,” he replied. “I shall be all right by tomorrow.”

“If you are going to kill yourself, I shall refuse to take you back to Jācara,” she answered. “For once you will have to listen to me. There is no escape from the yacht unless you swim!”

He looked up angrily and then unexpectedly he smiled.

“So the tables are turned,” he muttered softly.

“You are more use to Mariposa alive than dead.”

Her eyes met his and she felt herself quiver and something warm and wonderful seemed to open its petals within her heart.

She wanted to reach out to him then, to tell him that he must take care of himself because of what he meant to her as well as to Mariposa.

“Very well, I capitulate – for the moment,” El Diablo said.