You have in your suite a certain Diego."
"It may be so," I said, masking my surprise, and affecting
indifference.
"A tennis-player."
I shrugged my shoulders. "The man is known," I said.
"A Protestant?"
"It is not impossible."
"And a subject of the King, my master. A man," Don Antonio
continued, with increasing stiffness, "in fine, M. de Rosny, who,
after committing various offences, murdered his comrade in
prison, and, escaping in his clothes, took refuge in this
country."
I shrugged my shoulders again.
"I have no knowledge of that," I said coldly.
"No, or I am sure that you would not harbour the fellow," the
secretary answered. "Now that you do know it, however, I take it
for granted that you will dismiss him? If you held any but the
great place you do hold, M. de Rosny, it would be different; but
all the world see who follow you, and this man's presence stains
you, and is an offence to my master."
"Softly, softly, M. d'Evora," I said, with a little warmth. "You
go too fast. Let me tell you first, that, for my honour, I take
care of it myself; and, secondly, for your master, I do not allow
even my own to meddle with my household.
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