The next three days were even more hectic.

El Diablo presided at meetings and committees, which would have gone on endlessly had not Evans intervened to insist that his patient take food at regular intervals.

“I have never known a wound heal so quickly,” the doctor told Skye.

He came night and morning to do the dressing, much to Evans’ disgust, but Skye gathered that it was not El Diablo’s wish but the wish of those in Jācara who for the first time in years valued the life of their President.

“He is extremely fit, that is the answer,” she told him.

“He is indeed. I don’t think I have ever seen such a strong man.”

There was no doubt that El Diablo was picking up in health and that his spirits were high.

One evening, when they were at last alone after a gruelling day, he outlined his plan of Government to Jimmy, who was from that moment whole-heartedly optimistic about the possibilities of transforming an old-fashioned, out of date and practically bankrupt state into a prosperous modern one.

“He has the right ideas,” Jimmy said. “It may take time, of course it will, but he will do it. You mark my words.”

“I will,” Skye answered faintly.

She was beginning to wonder where she came in on all this. El Diablo was planning the future of Mariposa, but there seemed to be no place for her.

He was charming, he was courteous, he teased her a little when they were alone together, but their old relationship had undergone such a tremendous change that it was difficult for her to know where she was and where she stood.

It seemed almost impossible that he could have stayed six days aboard The Liberty and yet she should not have had more than a few minutes alone with him.

She found herself longing for the times that they had spent together in the camp.

Her clothes had come back to her. She had almost cried when she thought of Neengai packing them and her bedroom with its soft blue hangings standing empty.

It was difficult these days to be natural in El Diablo’s presence.

Every day it seemed that her love for him grew and deepened and even the sound of his voice made her quiver with a new awareness of her feelings.

She had not believed it possible that she could be herself and yet be so different.

She was almost ashamed of the yearning she had for him as she lay alone in her own cabin, separated from his only by the narrow width of the gangway.

It required all her willpower at times not to go to him, to tell him that she loved him and that she no longer wanted to fight him or to run away.

It was not something one could put into words, she thought. Perhaps when next he took her into his arms he would know instinctively.