Smiling, I took a sip of tea while he opened the curtains. He stood by the window for a moment, looking outside, and his smile vanished. He tensed up and shifted forward, fixing his gaze on something I couldn’t see. Forcefully, he shut the curtains and rushed to the door.

“Stay here. And don’t open the door for anybody until I get back.”

Before I could say a word, he darted out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I set the tray on the night table and dashed to the window to see what the source of his distress was.

Angélica.

She climbed off Pacha with a mastery I didn’t think I would ever achieve with this horse or any other. Lifting her skirt as to not dirty the hemline, she started toward the front of the house with a determined gait. What had happened?

Before I’d finished putting on my trousers, I heard her screechy voice, more upset and unhinged than I’d ever heard her. She was already inside.

“Where is she?” Angélica said.

She?

Oh, no, she’d figured out who I was. But how? Nobody but Martin knew and he’d been with me the entire evening. At least I thought so.

I tried to lock the bedroom door but the knob seemed to be broken.

She was climbing the stairs now, her feet stomping against the wood, her voice getting closer. Martin was telling her to calm down, to come downstairs, calling her by her first name instead of señora. This familiarity of theirs, Angélica’s demands, her ringing voice. It almost sounded like she was jealous. They both sounded more like lovers than work associates.

“I know Silvia is here! I know! She left the party right after you did! Oh, I know her so well. She couldn’t wait until her husband cooled down in his grave before coming to see you! Silvia, Silvia!”

She was in the hall now. I was halfway through putting on my corset.

“Silvia is not here,” Martin said. “Stop with this nonsense.”

“You’re such a liar!” Her voice was filled with contempt, but also pain. She was vexed, yes, undoubtedly, but at times it sounded like she might break down and cry.

I was tucking my shirt inside my pants when I heard the door opening in the adjacent room.

“Stop hiding, Silvia! I know you’re in here!”

¡Virgen de la Macarena! I’d never moved faster. I didn’t even have a mirror to glue my beard and mustache. Should I try to hide somewhere? The first place she would look would be under the bed.