She drew it back slowly and saw that El Diablo was waiting for her at the other side of the cave.

He had changed from the breeches he had been wearing when she arrived into a white silk shirt and long dark trousers with a red fada, a tight wide sash, round his waist.

There was almost a social elegance about him and as Skye crossed the room she felt that this was all a dream and that she would wake up to find El Diablo was nothing more sinister than a charming young man who was going to take her out to dinner and on to a nightclub.

The idea persisted when she saw that the table in the centre of the room had been laid and that two Indians were bringing in through the open doorway attractive dishes made of earthenware.

There was a carved high-backed chair for El Diablo and another one less ornate but roomy and comfortable was provided for Skye.

She seated herself on his right, while to her amazement the Indians proceeded to wait on them.

“I have a French cook,” El Diablo said conversationally. “So I hope, señorita, that you will enjoy this meal.”

“I am hungry enough to eat anything,” Skye replied, taking her tone from his and speaking as if they had known each other for some time. “But this dish is delicious.”

The first course was of eggs, skilfully cooked with herbs. A golden wine was poured into glass goblets and afterwards they were served with young turkey, followed by peaches cooked in brandy.

Skye longed to ask questions, but she felt it might give El Diablo a tactical advantage if she showed her surprise or even admitted that anything was unusual.

As she ate and drank, her fatigue fell from her and she felt alive and alert, ready to pit her wits against this strange bandit, who lived, as the servants at home would have said, ‘like a Lord’.

While they were eating, they did not talk more than was necessary. The Indians were in the room and, apart from the ordinary politeness of a host in asking Skye if she would have a second helping or another glass of wine, there was little said until the meal ended and El Diablo rose from the table.

As she also pushed back her chair, Skye felt a sense of excitement and apprehension.

The moment was coming when she would learn the truth!

Coffee, such as only a Frenchman can make, was brought and set on a low table in front of the couch, where, with a courteous gesture of his hand, El Diablo invited her to sit.

While the Indians were busying themselves with removing the plates and dishes from the table, Skye, to hide a sudden shyness, pointed to a rug lying on the floor and remarked,

“What a beautiful skin! What animal is it?”