“Who is to marry us! It was perhaps remiss of me not to have explained that sooner.”

Perhaps Skye’s white bewildered face evoked some sort of compassion in him, for El Diablo went on,

“I owe you an explanation, which must, of necessity, be brief. I am in command of certain forces here. Who and what they are need not concern you. It is sufficient for me to say that amongst them are two large groups of Indians, both of whom wish to present me with one of their most prized squaws. To take one would be to bitterly offend the other and to take neither would be to declare myself but half a man. The solution is very obvious. I must have a wife! As the woman who bears my name must be a credit to me, I have chosen you.”

“You are mad!” Skye exclaimed.

“So you have already told me.”

“Do you think that for one moment I would agree to go through with such a ceremony with you? Nothing and nobody would make me say ‘yes’.”

“You prefer to stay here with me without the blessing of the Church?”

For a moment there was silence and then, to avoid a direct answer, Skye said quickly,

“Anyway, the marriage would not be legal – there has to be a civil ceremony.”

“Which has already taken place.”

“What do you mean?”

In reply El Diablo took a document from his desk and held it out to Skye. She took it with a trembling hand. For a moment the paper swam before her eyes and then she saw that it was indeed a Certificate of Marriage between ‘Guido, known as El Diablo and Skye Standish’.

“How did you get this?”

Her voice was harsh with anger.

“We were married by proxy,” El Diablo smiled. “The Registrar in Jācara required very little persuasion.”

Skye threw the document on the floor.

“There are no depths to which you will not sink,” she said. “But even you cannot make a Priest marry a woman – who tells him she is unwilling.”

“If he understands her,” El Diablo answered softly. “Unfortunately, in the rush in which these arrangements had to be made, I could only procure the services of a travelling Priest who is on his way back to Brazil. I regret, for your sake, he only speaks Portuguese.”

There was nothing Skye could say and, as she stared at him wordlessly, El Diablo turned towards the doorway and drew back the curtain.

“Come,” he demanded. “You will marry me, there is no alternative.”