Chapter XI: Part 11

"No. I want the Carlists you have hidden in the house here."

"Carlists? I don't understand your Excellency. We are no Carlists here, but simple farming folk, and for the King, God bless him," said the old crone.

"Aye, King. I know your jargon. Which King? You're near enough to the grave, I should have thought, to speak the truth," answered the bully, roughly.

"Your Excellency can speak freely. I am an old woman, and have none to protect me here," was the retort, quietly spoken.

"My men will search the house; and look you, it will pay you best to help, not hinder us."

"I am too old either to help or hinder. Do your will."

"Who is in your house? Answer plainly, and with no more sneering," he said, in a truculent voice.

"The house is small to search; and there is none to resist."

"Well, no matter; I'll soon know;" and, giving some order which I could not catch, he came along the passage, and, pushing the door wide open, entered. "Ah, it is true, and you are here, Sarita. I could scarcely believe it true. Who else is in the house?"

"For one there is a swaggering bully of old women, and his name is Colonel Juan Livenza," answered Sarita, scornfully. "Another is the good woman of the house whom you found it so easy and safe to insult."

"Thank you for that," he cried, stung to anger. "And I'll show my gratitude by taking good care of all we find here."

"Like the gallant gentleman and King's officer that you are."

"I won't let your gibes anger me," he said. "It is for you I came; and I must speak with you. I have come in friendship."

"I have no wish to speak with you. I am ready to go at once. I can be your prisoner, but not your friend; the saints forbid that!" she cried, with intense bitterness. And I saw the purpose in a flash. To get him and his men away with her so that I might escape. And I blessed her for the thought, even while I resolved to frustrate it. I had another plan, and all unwittingly Livenza helped me.

"I intend to speak to you and have an understanding, and we can have it here without fear of interruption," he said.

"You were ever a chivalrous gentleman," she retorted, trying hard to goad him to anger.

But he paid no heed to the sneer, and, going to the door, called up one of his men and ordered him to keep the house surrounded, but not to disturb him. Then he closed the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket, and, feeling secure, said, "Now we can talk, Sarita, without any to overhear us."

"A very prudent precaution, Colonel Livenza, and one for which I am infinitely obliged to you," I said quietly, as I pushed open the door of the cupboard and stepped out, revolver in hand.

The look of exultant triumph changed to one of craven fear, as he gave a violent start and stared at me, his lips livid, and his face white with the whiteness of death. He tried to answer, but for the moment could force no words, and his lips moved in a soundless question inspired by his overpowering dismay at my appearance.

Sarita gave me a look of reproach.

"Why did you do this?"

"That we three may talk without interruption," I answered, not taking my eyes from Livenza's face. "Without interruption," I repeated, meaningly and sternly. "Colonel Livenza knows me, and he knows that as he has the key of the door in his pocket there must be delay, even were he to summon his men; and that the minute of that delay would be his last on earth."

"I shall not call anyone," he said, his voice no longer jaunty and truculent, but hoarse, broken, and abject, the voice of a coward in deadly fear.

"I am glad to hear it. You will therefore show your confidence in me further by laying your weapon on the table."

"There is no need for that. I don't wish----"

"On the table, there," I said sternly, pointing to it.

"I have no objection," he declared, with a start at my stern tone; and with trembling fingers he drew his sword and laid it down, and then put his revolver by the side of it, and sighed.

"Hand the key of the door to Senorita Castelar," I bade him next, and without a murmur he obeyed. "Now we can talk without restraint," I said, and put his sword and revolver on a chair behind him. "Be good enough to answer my questions fully. How comes it you have found your way here to this out-of-the-way place at this precise moment?"

"I heard that this was a house where Carlists were likely----"

"Wait," I broke in, angrily. "Tell the truth, the full truth; no half lies and generalities and equivocations; and don't forget that I also know much--more than enough to test every word you say. If you lie, the interview ends--and the end will not be well for you. Now, answer my question."

"Sebastian Quesada's spies in Daroca found out that Senorita Castelar was here, and I came in search of her."

"That's better. Now, what secret arrangement has there been between you and Quesada affecting your relations with the senorita? Remember, I know it, but wish her to hear it from you." The question set him trembling in dire agitation, and for some moments he stood hesitating and perplexed, trying vainly to speak.

"What do you mean?" he muttered.

"Answer," I said, sternly. "And mind, the truth."

Again he wrestled with his feelings, and then in a low voice: "He knew of my passion for her, and--and thought that if she was to be arrested, I had best do it."

"You are lying, Colonel Livenza," I said.

"I am unarmed," he muttered, shifting his eyes uneasily.

"I, too, was unarmed once before your weapon; and afterwards you swore to tell me the truth. You know why. But if you mean that I am insulting an unarmed man, here, take your revolver;" and I put it on the table and pushed it toward him. "You lied, Colonel Livenza," I repeated.

The sweat broke out on his forehead in the intensity of the strain. "I don't want it," he said, hoarsely and feebly, pushing it back to me. "I will say it. The senorita is to be my wife."

I put the pistol on the chair again; for the experiment had answered, as I knew it would.

"You mean that your marriage with Senorita Castelar was part of the price with which Quesada bought your help and silence?"

"If you put it so, yes," he murmured.

"This is infamous," cried Sarita.

"But it is not all. Wait, please," I said to her; then again to him--

"In regard to the Carlist plot for abducting the King, what part did he give you to play?"

"I was the intermediary between him and the Carlists. Sarita knows this," and he looked across to her.

"Be good enough to answer me, and not to speak to Senorita Castelar, nor use her name. He promised you that she should be your wife. How was that to be, and what was to happen if the abduction plot had not failed and the Carlist movement had been successful?"

"It was not meant to succeed. His object was to get the young King away, the Monarchy overthrown, and at the same time to crush the Carlist risings as they are now being crushed. He then intended to set up a provisional Government, as a Republic, with himself at the head of it, and his own friends filling all the offices; and then to proclaim war with America, in order to consolidate all classes in favour of the Government."

"And you were to be----? what besides the senorita's husband."

"I was to be Minister of War."

"Spain has lost a brilliant servant, then, and you a portfolio and a wife, by the failure of the plot against the King. Of course, you were not fool enough to go so deep in without something more substantial than Quesada's word. You knew him too well for this. What proofs of his sincerity did he give you?"

He hesitated again, and showed once more the signs of extreme agitation, and at length answered in a tentative, doubtful tone--

"I had only his word; nothing could be written."

"What proofs had you?" I cried again, sternly. "Do you think I don't know what I am saying?"

"We discussed it frequently. I was in his confidence. I had no need of----"

"What proofs had you? I shall not ask you again."

"He gave me the provisional promise in a letter." The words seemed to be wrung from him like drops of blood, and when he had spoken he sighed heavily, and threw up his hands in despair.

"Where is that letter? You have it with you, for you know it would be safe nowhere else. Give it to me," and I held out my hand. I could read him now easily enough, and saw my guess was right.

"It is with my bankers, in my safe, at Madrid," he protested; but I paid no heed, and insisted, disregarding alike his protests, declarations, oaths, and entreaties, and at length made him give it me. He was carrying it sewn up in his clothes, and when I made him part with it, he was so unstrung that he could no longer stand upright, but sank helpless into a chair.

A glance at it showed me the prize I had secured, and the weapon it would be against Quesada, if only I could get it safe to Madrid and lay it before the King's eyes.

"I have nearly done with you," I said then. "And you have my word that I will keep the document safely, so that when the Republic is proclaimed you may claim your seat in the Ministry. But first tell us what arrangements were made, and when, for the suppression of the Carlist risings?"

"All has been in readiness for weeks past. For months, Government agents of all nationalities and classes, men and women alike, have been at work in all directions, and by every possible means worming out secret information. Many of the men who to-day are among the trusted leaders and supporters of Don Carlos are Government agents in Government pay; every movement planned and made, every council and thought almost, every act and speech, have been carried to Quesada, and actor and speaker alike listed, watched, shadowed, tested in a hundred subtle ways, and marked as either suspect or actual revolutionary. Never in the world was such a net devised, and never spread with subtler cunning or more implacable purpose. What chance could you have against such a man?" he cried, turning to Sarita. "Surely never before was such an iron strength, invincible will, fathomless depth, and consummate judgment found in a Spaniard. His spies were everywhere, in your most secret councils; he had your strength to a man; your secrets were his daily knowledge; and you only remained free to plot and plan because he knew that at a signal he could crush your whole revolution as I would pinch a fly between my fingers. A week ago every man was in his place ready to pounce the instant the signal was given; nay, the very prisons and cells were marked out to which the Carlists were to be taken; and in every town where the slightest trouble was anticipated, soldiers outnumbering you five to one were ready at hand. What more proof do you want than what has happened? He built his plans on the success of the abduction plot, and yet when it fails he is found stronger than ever."

"This is mere statement," cried Sarita, stung into the protest by the lingering refusal to believe she had been so duped.

"Proofs? The proofs are written all over Spain at this moment. Am I not here? Is not that a proof? Why was I at Daroca before you thought of coming? Why, except that he allowed you all to fool yourselves with the belief that your stronghold here was not known to the Government, and that you yourself would be sure to fly here when the trouble fell upon your friends at Madrid? But if you want proofs, they exist not by the hundred only, but by the thousand, in the orders given to every regiment of soldiers and every body of police. There is no hope for you, Sarita, but surrender. You cannot fight a man like Sebastian Quesada."

Then I saw the reason of his earnestness, which for the moment had puzzled me. He was bent upon getting her to renounce Carlism and upon filling her with hate of Quesada, that she might the more easily be pardoned and given to him as his wife. He could not have rendered me more effective aid, indeed, had I prompted him in every word he said. And then I went on to play the last card I had in reserve.

"You were in Quesada's confidence, you tell us, and it is plain that you were to some extent, for he was going to help you in winning a wife. Did he ever tell you his own intentions in regard to marriage?"

Sarita started and looked at me hurriedly, but I would not see the glance.

"They were nothing to me."

"You have told us how these Carlists were outmanoeuvred and duped by him; do you think there were no dupes among those nearer to him?" And I spoke with an emphasis that impressed him.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know that he himself also thought of marrying a Carlist, one high in their councils, and that he made the price of his collusion in this abduction plot a pledge from her to marry him?"

I had not miscalculated the effect of the stroke. Poltroon as the fellow was in the abject regard for his life, he was a true Spaniard in his love and his hate; and the jealousy in his nature was a devil that could be roused easily. It put new strength into him now, and he sprang to his feet again and glared across the table at me with eyes of fire.

"Do you mean I was his dupe in this? By the living Cross if I thought that----"

"Ask the Senorita Castelar the name. She can tell you."

"Is this true, Sarita? Can you tell me?"

There was a pause of tense silence, and then she answered with slow deliberation:

"After what you have told us of his falseness, there is no reason why I should not say. I was to be his wife."

He stood glaring, at her like a man stiffened suddenly in the rigidity of death, save that his eyes glowed like coals; and for a full minute he seemed scarcely to breathe, so unnatural was his stillness. Then with a deep-drawn sigh which shook the whole frame till he trembled, and I thought would fall, he regained self-mastery.

"On your honour, and by the Holy Virgin, you swear that is true?" he said, in a tone ringing with suppressed passion until it sounded utterly unlike his own.

"I do not lie, Colonel Livenza. On my honour and by the Holy Virgin, I swear that that is the truth," replied Sarita, slowly and solemnly.

There was another pause, this time much longer, and then he seemed to force his agitation under control. And in the pause a thought flashed upon me. Sarita's solemn oath had meant Quesada's death-warrant as surely as though the warrant were in fact in existence and bore the sign manual of the King. He was a completely changed man when he next spoke with an altogether unnatural calm.

"Can I go now, Senor Carbonnell? I have work to do."

"And your men?"

"I shall withdraw them; the way is free to you. I would warn you to escape if you wish to go, for the soldiers are everywhere; and above all things avoid every Carlist haunt, for each of them is known. Sarita, we shall not meet again. Will you bid me good-bye?" and he went toward her as if expecting her to give him her hand; but not feeling quite sure of him, I stepped forward. Sarita said, in a cold hard tone:

"No. You are less than nothing to me, Colonel Livenza. I can have no kindly thought of, or for, a traitor like you. I hope we never shall meet again."

Believing what I did of his intention, and that if I was right, he was surely going to his death, I regretted her sternness.

"As you will. Some day, perhaps, you will think less harshly;" and without a word or a glance to me, he picked up his arms, and, while I unlocked the door, he sheathed his sword and thrust the revolver into the case he wore about his waist, and went out.

We heard him call to his men, and give them a sharp short command; the jingle of accoutrements as they mounted was followed by the sound of the horses' hoofs as they wheeled round and trotted away.

"What had we best do now, Ferdinand?" asked Sarita, when the sound had quite died away.

"You are convinced at last?"

"Don't," she cried, wincing in anguish. "I am so humiliated. To be set up for barter by these villains, and cheated and fooled. For the Holy Mother's sake don't let me think of it. Give me something to do. Take me somewhere, anywhere that I may try to forget my shame."

"By God's help that shall be to England, Sarita; and we will know no pause or stop till we are safe. We'll blunt the edge of this business by the excitement of the journey," I cried, little perceiving what the excitement would prove to be; and calling for Juan, I told him we would start at once, and that he must find us a way through the web which the soldiers had spread all round.

One precaution I took, due more to the fortunate accident that we had to wait a few minutes for the horses, than to any foresight of mine. I took the letter which Livenza had given me, and sealing it in an envelope which I obtained from Mother Calvarro, I addressed it to Mayhew at the British Embassy, with instructions to keep it with the papers I had previously entrusted to him.

Before we mounted I drew Juan aside.

"See, my lad, if anything happens to me and I get caught by the soldiers, I shall pass this envelope to you. You must guard it jealously, for it may mean life and liberty for hundreds of us; and take it to Madrid and place it in the hands of him to whom it is addressed, Mr. Mayhew, at the British Embassy. Here is money; and if you have to deliver the letter and do it safely, I will pay you very liberally." He gave me a faithful promise, and then I mounted.

"What were you saying to Juan?" asked Sarita.

"I was giving him some instructions in regard to our safety," I answered; not caring to start the fears of capture which were already present to my mind in disquieting force. With that we started.

*CHAPTER XXVIII*

*HOW LUCK CAN CHANGE*

As we left Calvarro's I rode with the utmost caution, for I felt by no means certain that Livenza, even in his changed mood, might not attempt some treachery. But I wronged him in that thought. He had cleared right away and had taken his men with him; and so soon as I was convinced of this, I drew rein and questioned Juan as to the possible roads that were open for us to take.

The position of Daroca made our difficulties vastly greater. The mountains were on three sides of us, and Juan admitted that he knew the passes very indifferently, while it was certain that the chief of them would be blocked with the soldiery. The one bit of open country was that by which I had ridden from Calatayud, and as that was also the country which our young guide knew well, I determined to go there.

From Calatayud I resolved to use the railway, not to Saragossa or Madrid but to work our way north through Old Castile and the Basque Provinces, and across the frontier to Bayonne; and I directed Juan therefore to make for Calatayud by the road I had travelled earlier in the night.

"Do you think you can hold out for a twenty-mile ride, Sarita?" I asked her, as I explained generally my plans.

"I could ride for five hundred if I could only get away from my racking thoughts," was her instant and vehement response; and with that I directed Juan to travel as fast as the ground and the condition of the horses would allow. I knew that a good remedy for her mental distress would be found in physical fatigue, and we rattled along therefore at a strapping pace and for a long time most part in silence. One caution I gave her.

"If you have any papers or anything on you which might cause you to be identified, you had better destroy them in case we are interfered with and you are searched. Until we are out of Spain I shall say you are my sister, and that we are leaving the country because of the troubled state of things."

"I have nothing. I came in this disguise," she answered, referring to the peasant's dress she wore. "Scarcely a convincing dress for Lord Glisfoyle's sister. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters now," she added, with a sigh.

The truth of this reference to her incongruous dress became more apparent when the dawn broke and lightened. I had not given it a thought while we were at Calvarro's, nor while the darkness made the matter of costume a thing of no importance; but in the daylight it was altogether different. Still, as riding habits didn't grow on Spanish hills, there was nothing to do but to make the best of it, and get a change of dress at the first available opportunity. After all, there was that well-known excuse to fall back upon--the eccentricity of the English traveller.

I left Sarita almost entirely to her own thoughts, and for some hours we scarcely spoke to each other, until, as I had dismounted and was leading my horse up a hill by her side, she looked down and said with a smile:

"You are very good to me, Ferdinand, and very thoughtful for me. I cannot bear to speak much yet."

"That's all right. We shall have many years of chatter to make up for a few hours' silence," I answered, cheeringly. "I can guess pretty well how it is with you. Don't worry. Let's get out of this mess and we'll have all the more to talk about. What a young brick that Juan is. I don't know what we should have done without him. He'll pull us through yet," and it really began to look as though he would, for we were within a mile or two of Calatayud.

"And do I owe nothing to you?"

"We won't shout till we are out of the wood. But here we are at the top of the hill, and forward's the word again;" and soon after that we came in sight of Calatayud nestling down in the valley a good way below us, the smoke from a few early fires curling up lazily in the breezeless air.

"Thank God, there's the railway," I said, pointing to where a sinuous line of white steam marked the course of a train just leaving the station on its way to Madrid. Then I called Juan back. "I am not going to your grandfather's if I can help it, Juan. I have reason to know it will be dangerous. Is there a Royalist house in the place?"

"Yes, senor, there is Angostino's. But if there are any soldiers in the town they are sure to be there."

"All the more reason for them not to think I should go there, too. Now remember, the senorita and I are English people, brother and sister. I am Lord Glisfoyle"--and I made him repeat the name several times, and warned him to tell anyone who might question him that that was my name, and that I was an eccentric English nobleman. "You won't ride with us up to Angostino's, but as soon as we are close enough to the house to find our way, you'll take the horses--they might be recognised--and we shall walk there. And now I'm going to trust you. Take this letter and keep it. If you hear that I have been arrested, go as quickly as you can to Madrid and give it yourself to Mr. Mayhew, and tell him that I am arrested. But if I am not, then I shall want you to be ready to go on a journey with me later in the day or in the evening; I'll find means to let you know the time." He promised me, and when we came near enough to our destination Sarita and I dismounted, and he rode away with the horses.

"Now, Mercy--that's your name now, remember--for a bold face on things and no language but English; no character but that of eccentric English folk; and a prayer from the bottom of our hearts that my friend Rubio is not within a dozen miles of Angostino's. In that case we'll soon be at breakfast, and you'll soon be in bed--and the best place for you."

Scarcely anyone was astir in the narrow street, or in the inn itself, and swaggering in with the assurance of an irresponsible tourist, I asked for breakfast and a couple of rooms for myself and sister. I took care to put a good broad English accent into my Spanish, showed my money with vulgar ostentation, and made the most of my title.

Everything went smoothly. A single gold piece converted a sleepy serving maid from a wondering and contemptuous critic of Sarita's dress into an obsequious servant, who led her away at once.

"Don't be long, Mercy, for I am as hungry as the deuce," I called after her, loudly.

"All right," she cried in reply, in a most winsome accent that no English girl could have copied to save her life.

Then the landlord, having heard that a rich Englishman had arrived, came hurrying out to me with a mouthful of breakfast, a rich smell of garlic, and a whole person eloquent of a desire to do my bidding and earn my money; and a few minutes saw me in the only private sitting-room in the place, a guest of less importance having been promptly dispossessed in my honour. There is nothing like a combination of impudence, money, and a character for English eccentricity if you want your own way on the Continent. And I never wanted mine more badly in my life nor got it more promptly.

"You are a magician, Ferdinand," said Sarita, as we sat at breakfast.

"But you are not Spanish," I whispered, warningly; "and an English brother and sister don't carry their eccentricity so far as to talk in any language but their own, Mercy."

"Then we can talk very little," she replied, in English.

"Which is precisely how English brothers and sisters do behave," said I, with a laugh.

"What about clothes?" she asked in some little dismay.

"I'll see to that. After breakfast you must go to bed. I don't want anyone to see you for one thing and I do want you to get some sleep; and while you sleep, I'll work the oracle."

"You will what?" she asked, wrinkling her brow at my slang.

"I'll get hold of some clothes somehow, if I steal them;" and as soon as breakfast was over, I went out to forage.

Juan was right in one respect. What soldiers were in Calatayud were at the inn, and sticking to my principle of the value of impudence, I went up to the two officers who were in command of the party, bade them good-day, and asked them if they spoke English. One of them replied that he did.

"Good," I said, heartily, and offered him my hand and asked him to give me a cigarette. "I can speak Spanish a bit, but our English tongues don't seem to fit the words somehow. Let me introduce myself, for I want a little advice. I am Lord Glisfoyle, an Englishman, travelling with my sister, and we have just heard of the death of a relative in London, and have to get there quickly. Which is the best way to go? I mean, considering the mess and excitement of all this Carlist business. I was at Daroca, and wanted to get up to Saragossa by rail; but yesterday you gentlemen had taken possession of the line, and I'll be hanged if I could get tickets. So we rode over here and left our baggage there. Here is my card;" and, as if searching for one, I pulled out a roll of English bank notes, which impressed them as much as I desired. "I haven't one, I see; I must have left my card case when I changed, I expect. Anyhow, it doesn't matter."

The officer was as obliging as courtesy demanded he should be to a rich English nobleman in a difficulty, and very soon we three were discussing my route over a bottle of the best wine which Angostino could find in his cellar.

The Madrid route was suggested; but I said I had thought of the other, and then my two companions worked out the train service in that direction. After that was settled we went out together and strolled about the streets chatting and smoking; and in the course of an hour I had acquired a good deal of useful information about the doings and plans of the military; while on my side I took them to the telegraph office and let them see the telegrams I sent off to London and to Mayhew at the British Embassy in the name of Lord Glisfoyle.

That business completed, they went off to their military duties, and I found shops where I could get some clean linen for myself and a costume of a kind for Sarita, to whom, trading on Spanish ignorance of such things, I ordered them to be sent in the name of Lady Mercy Glisfoyle. Then I sauntered in the direction of old Tomaso's house, and finding Juan on the lookout for me, I told him to be at the station that afternoon at four o'clock, to watch me but not to speak to me; and to take a ticket for the station where we had to change into the train for the north.

Having done this good morning's work, I went back to the inn to have a couple of hours' sleep before leaving. I paid liberally and tipped royally, so that everyone about the place was sorry for my going. The two officers insisted upon accompanying us to the station to see me off; an attention which would have been very pleasant, had I not feared that he who spoke English might detect Sarita's accent; but I put a bold face on matters, and explained that my sister, Lady Mercy Glisfoyle, was very much fatigued, and had so bad an attack of neuralgia that she had to bandage her face and could not speak. And such was the confidence in me that even that simple ruse was not detected, and no suspicion was roused.

At the station the officer was good enough to take our tickets for us, and he thus saved me all troublesome questions. In fact every difficulty seemed to vanish as we faced it; and Sarita was actually in the train, and I was standing chatting with my two new friends, when the luck veered, and the crash came all suddenly. Nor was it any the sweeter to me because I had brought it on myself by a single piece of over-acting.

The telegram to Mayhew at the Embassy proved my undoing. It was tampered with or censored or something at Madrid. At any rate it came under the attention of the police there; and the name having been bracketed with that of Carbonnell, when the attempt had been made to arrest me at the Hotel de l'Opera, somebody's suspicions were roused, and instructions were sent to stop me. I was laughing with the officers and just going to bid them good-bye, when someone approached me.

"Lord Glisfoyle, I think."

"Yes, what do you want with me?"

"I am sorry, but there may be a mistake of some kind. I have instructions to ask you not to leave Calatayud for the present."

"From whom are your instructions?" I asked quickly, in very fluent Spanish, forgetting all about my English accent in my chagrin and surprise.

"They come from Madrid; and they speak of a certain Ferdinand Carbonnell in connection with you."

"I am an English nobleman, and at a loss to understand you. Do you mean you intend to stop my going away. You'll do so at your own risk; and unless you use force I shall certainly go."

"I trust you will not compel us to use force. I have no alternative but to obey my instructions."

At that moment I noticed the expression of the two officers and realised my blunder in showing my knowledge of Spanish. I was to pay a heavy price for it, too.

"I repeat I am an English nobleman travelling with my sister, and the English Government will not put up quietly with any interference of this kind. I am called by urgent business of a private character to London, and any delay will be serious. These gentlemen know that I have telegraphed to London announcing my immediate return."

"Your Spanish is far purer than I understood, senor," replied the English-speaking officer, drily. "I think you can explain matters sufficiently to dispense with any reference to me."

"As you please," I answered, loftily; and turning to the official, I said curtly, "I will do as you wish, and will just explain matters to my sister." I could think of no better excuse to get a word with Sarita. Speak to her I must--to urge her to continue the journey, and to give her money as I feared she had none. I turned to the carriage door and said coolly, in English: "I'm stopped, but you can go on; and must take this money. Wire to Mrs. Curwen when you reach Bayonne, and remain there. Please," I urged, backing the appeal with a glance. To my delighted surprise she consented, and with a light nod, I added: "I shall be on by the next train," and turned to the official, "I am at your disposal, senor."

But in the meantime the two officers had communicated their suspicions to the man, and he now said:

"I must ask the senorita, your sister, to alight and remain also. She shall be treated with every consideration."

"This is monstrous," I exclaimed indignantly; but my protests were unavailing, and we had to suffer the infinite chagrin and disappointment of seeing the train steam away without us. I masked my feelings under an assumption of indignation, however, and asked where we were to go.

"You can return to Angostino's, senor," said the official, very politely, "but you must permit that I remain in your company until I have further instructions."

"All places are alike to me after this scandalous outrage," I answered. Then, looking about me, I saw Juan watching us at a safe distance, and as we passed I gave him a meaning glance, and said aloud to Sarita, "We are arrested, you see," and he answered with a look to show that he understood and would do my bidding.

"I wish to telegraph to the British Embassy," I then said to the official.

"I regret, senor, but I can allow nothing to be done until I have further instructions," and there was nothing for me but to comply.

We went back to the inn to wait; but the delay was not long, for in reply to the telegram announcing the arrest there came a message for us both to be taken to Madrid.

"You will give me your word to make no attempt to resist us, senor?"

"Certainly I will not. I won't recognise your action in any way, and you can take the consequences of everything you do," was my hot reply. But it served no other purpose than to cause the man to have two subordinates with him in the carriage, thus preventing all attempt at conversation between Sarita and myself, other than a few words of English.

Sarita played her part well enough, showing a stolid, stoical indifference to everything, and maintaining the pretence of indisposition. But it was all of no avail. I had one consolation. Juan was in the train, and I knew that very soon Mayhew would be acting to effect my release; and I occupied the time and tedium of the journey by thinking out the far more serious problem of Sarita's arrest.

At Madrid the truth came out, of course, as I knew it would. Rubio was on the platform waiting for us when the train drew up. Recognising us both immediately, he rubbed his hands with pleasure over the importance of the arrest. He disregarded my angry protests, and in a few words sent my spirits down to zero.

"You are Ferdinand Carbonnell; I know that, and that would be enough, but there is more. This is Senorita Castelar, a most prominent Carlist, and you were stopped in the act of helping her to escape from the country under the pretence that she was your sister. For that even Lord Glisfoyle would have to answer. You are not in England, senor."

"No; but you'll find the English Government will have a word to say."

"That is for his Excellency the Minister to settle, and for the present you are both prisoners;" and without more ado he put Sarita into one carriage and me into another, with a sufficient guard to ensure our safety. Thus, instead of being well on the road to Bayonne as I had hoped, I found myself locked up in a filthy prison cell in Madrid, with a bitter load of misgivings and fears, and a host of useless lamentations and revilings for the shortsightedness and blunders which I had committed at the moment when Sarita's freedom lay in the hollow of my hand. I could have dashed my head against the wall in the bitterness of my self-reproach and futile regrets.

They would not let me communicate with a soul outside. I asked to send a letter to the British Embassy, and they answered that I was a Spaniard and a Carlist, and would be treated accordingly. I demanded an interview with Quesada, and they replied with the flout that I could see him when he made an appointment. I went so far even as to request that a message be sent to the Palace, and they laughed at me for a madman, and jeered and sneered the louder in proportion as I stormed and fumed and raged. Seeing that, I made up my mind to be sensible, and do the only thing I could do--wait.

Nor did I wait in vain.

The luck which had gone so well with me to a point, only to change at Calatayud with such ruinous consequences, veered round again the moment I reached Madrid, where there had been a witness of my arrest who was soon to bring me help.

I had been about three hours in the cell, and was passing the weary, baffling, irritating time in speculating how long I was to be left like a forgotten dog in the dirty kennel of a cell, and how long it would take Mayhew to get to work to find me and procure my release, when the door of the cell was unlocked and a warder told me to follow him.

"Where to?" I asked.

"There's a visitor for you."

"Bring him here, then," I answered, determined that anyone from the Embassy should see the filthy place in which I had been caged.

"Come with me," he said again.

"I will not," I answered, and curled myself up on the bare bench. At this he growled out an oath, and after a moment banged the door and locked it again. It was probably a novel experience for him to find any prisoner unwilling to get out of such a kennel at the first opportunity, and, in truth, when some minutes elapsed and he did not return, I was disposed to regret my own obstinacy.

But I heard his returning steps later on, the door was once more opened, and the brute said, in a tone of deference:

"The prisoner is here, senorita," and I jumped to my feet in intense surprise to find Dolores Quesada, holding up her skirts, and looking in dismay at the disgusting condition of the cell, and then with distress, sympathy, and concern at me.

*CHAPTER XXIX*

*QUESADA AGAIN*

"I must apologise for your brother's taste, senorita, in compelling me to allow you to find me in such a--palace," I said, with a wave of the hand about the filthy cell. "This is the hospitality he considers is my due."

The disgusting stench of the place turned her sick and faint, and anger flashed from her eyes. I was not at all sorry for her to see for herself the hole in which I had been caged.

"You must leave it at once, senor. It is horrible," she cried.

"I am but one of hundreds honoured with the same treatment, and the courtesy of my host is so pressing as to render it difficult for me to leave."

"I have brought the order for your release, senor. It is abominable--abominable! I wish to speak to Senor Carbonnell; take us to some place where we can breathe," she said to the warder.

"I told the prisoner to come before, but he refused, senorita," said the man in a surly tone; and then we followed him along the corridor to a square, bare room near the entrance to the gaol.

"I am ashamed at what you have suffered, Senor Carbonnell. My brother has deceived me, and broken his pledged word."

"I shall ever remember your former efforts for me, senorita, but you will see that the subject of Senor Quesada's conduct is one I can scarcely discuss with his sister," I answered.

"But it is just that which I want to discuss. I have obtained your release----"

"Pardon me," I broke in, "but I cannot accept my release on any conditions whatever. I am profoundly indebted to you for this act of yours, deeply impressed by the motives which underlie it, and can never cease to think kindly of you for it; but, though you found me a prisoner in such vile surroundings, I am not without great influence even here in Madrid--far greater than your brother deems--and my liberation was at most but a matter of hours. I can therefore make no conditions even with one so gracious and so friendly as yourself."

"You have maddened Sebastian against you by threatening him, but you will not think of such things."

"I would do much to please you, I am sure you know that; but you ask me what is impossible," I answered, firmly.

"There is no man in the world for whom I would have done this," she cried, impetuously. "And I had to strain to the utmost my influence with Sebastian to do it. The very fact that he ordered your arrest in defiance of his pledge to me shows how bitterly he feels. I was at the station this evening by the merest chance when you were brought there, and I could scarcely believe my own eyes when I saw you were under arrest. I went at once to Sebastian----"

"Pray forgive me if I interrupt you, but I cannot discuss his conduct with you. If you saw the arrest, however, you will have seen that I was not alone in being arrested; and if you wish to do me a kindness you will use this great influence of yours to secure the liberation of Senorita Castelar."

But at the mention of Sarita she drew herself up, and both anger and surprise, but chiefly anger, were in the look she gave me.

"You ask me that?" she cried, and then as suddenly changed. "You do not think she is in any danger, surely?" she added.

"I know that she was arrested, and you yourself saw the place where I was imprisoned, and can judge of the fitness of such a hole for a girl."

"And you don't know? She has never told you?" she cried, scornfully.

"I am not sure I understand you," I replied.

"She is to be my brother's wife, senor. Do you think he would suffer her to be treated as--as you have been?"

"Senorita, there is a great misunderstanding somewhere; but if anything is certain, it is that she will never be his wife."

"Will you come and see Sebastian?" she asked, suddenly. "I am so anxious to have peace between you."

"It could do no good."

"I ask you to come. If you value what I have done here, you will consent."

"It can do no good; but if you ask it I will go;" and the instant I had consented she led the way to her carriage, which was waiting outside the gate.

"Where is Senorita Castelar?" I asked, as we drove rapidly along.

"I don't know, but she is sure to be well cared for," she answered, as though the subject was no concern of hers; and no more was said until we were close to the house. Then, with some hesitation, she said: "I know nearly everything of my brother's plans, and shall be present at the interview. There must be a full understanding."

I made no reply, for I did not quite know what she meant; but I was certain that if there was to be anything like a full understanding the interview promised to be interesting; and I began to feel glad I had come.

Quesada was at home, and in the room where I had had my last conversation with him and my introduction to Rubio, and I found him looking much more concerned and anxious than I had ever seen him.

"What is the meaning of this visit?" was his blunt greeting.

"I have brought Senor Carbonnell," said Dolores, "that these things may be explained and talked over. I wished it, Sebastian."

"Very well; what does he want to explain?"

"You told me to-night, for the second time, that he could and would ruin you if he was set at liberty. I wish to have peace between you. I told you so, when I insisted on his being liberated; and I have told him so, too. Now that you are face to face, say plainly what this means, and how it is to be avoided."

"When women interfere in matters they don't understand, they always do something foolish. This is mere foolishness. Senor Carbonnell--or, to give him his proper title, Lord Glisfoyle--is bent upon doing his utmost to ruin me, and you have given him the opportunity. Why, then, seek to delay him in his purpose? Let him go and begin his task." He spoke quite firmly, and with great deliberateness.

"This is hopeless, Sebastian," cried his sister, wringing her hands.

"What would you have me do, Dolores? Assume a fear of him which I do not feel? Throw myself at his feet and beg his mercy, when I stand in no need of it? Play at theatricals? You are a woman, we are men; and you don't understand us or our methods. Lord Glisfoyle and I have been engaged in a duel to the death. I had him at my advantage when you interfered--for the second time. You have given him the advantage now, and the cue is with him. He holds, or thinks he holds, weapons which he can use to secure my ruin; and you seem to think you can induce him not to use them by bringing him here to talk over, as you call it, the position. I am sure he did not come willingly, and am surprised he came at all; but here or anywhere else--except, of course, in safe keeping--it is all one to me. We shall continue the duel under the circumstances which you have changed in this way to my disadvantage."

"I was leaving Spain when your men stopped me and brought me to Madrid," I said.

"But not alone," he rapped out, sharply.

"No, with the lady who is to be my wife," I retorted.

For a second his hands clenched involuntarily, and he winced, but instantly recovered himself, and spoke calmly.

"That remains to be seen. But why this interview?"

"I have not sought it," I answered curtly, and got up to leave.

"You must not go," cried Dolores.

"My dear Dolores, do not meddle any more."

"Yes, Sebastian, I will. I must speak. Senor Carbonnell--Lord Glisfoyle, I mean--knows your secret plotting in regard to the King; he holds, as you told me, documents which must compromise you, and may ruin you if he can prove they are genuine. These are what you call his weapons. There must be some inducement that can prevail upon him not to use them. Is that not so, Lord Glisfoyle?" she cried, turning to me in deep distress.

"You are forgetting yourself, Dolores. We are not children or women," said the Minister, sternly. "I will have no more of this child's play. You should not have brought Lord Glisfoyle here. Every word you utter but makes your blunder worse; and God knows you have done enough mischief already to satisfy even a woman."

"I asked you a question, Lord Glisfoyle," said Dolores, paying no regard to his protests.

"A question I find most difficult, I may say impossible, to answer. Your brother knows how he has treated me, and knows also how he would act were our positions reversed. I can say no more."

"But do you mean to use these letters?" she persisted.

"Since obtaining them I have obtained others, and much information. I know the part you have played throughout this business, Senor Quesada,"--I felt it easier to speak to him--"and I shall not rest until I have done my utmost to bring this home to you. In one thing you have wronged your sister. I should not have remained in what you term safe keeping more than a few hours at the utmost; for already there are forces at work for my liberation which even you would find it hopeless to resist. What you term your sister's blunder, therefore--procuring my liberation from the prison--is no more than an anticipation by those few hours of what must have followed."

"That may be. At any rate, you are free, and you owe it to her." This reminder of my obligation to Dolores was the first slight rift in his firmness.

"If it were possible, it would influence my attitude. But nothing can do that--nothing, at least, that you can do."

"I knew there was something. What is it? Tell us that, Lord Glisfoyle. I beg and pray of you, say what it is," cried Dolores, in a tone of fervent entreaty.

"It is useless even to name it. It is nothing less than the undoing of all this wilful and unholy persecution of the Carlists--wilful and unholy because undertaken for the sake of furthering, not the welfare of Spain, but your brother's ambition."

"It is not impossible. I am sure it is not," she exclaimed. "You can do anything, Sebastian; while your influence is what it is, you can do anything. Say that this shall be done, and Lord Glisfoyle will leave Spain--I know he will--and give up these documents you fear so much."

They were the mere wild, idle words of a distracted woman, the cry of a true heart torn asunder by the vehemence of emotion.

To my surprise, her brother did not instantly repudiate them, however, but sat with pent, frowning brows in deep thought for a moment.

"Would you go alone?" he asked then, without relaxing the stern, set expression of face.

"Do you mean would anything ever make me consent to see Sarita Castelar your wife?"

"Would you go alone?" he repeated, in the same tone.

"Nothing would make me consent to that," I replied, answering my own question. "And nothing will ever induce me not to hold you responsible for her safety."

He heard me without a sign, and again buried himself in his thoughts. Then he pushed his chair back, rose, and went to the door.

"Leave us a few minutes, Dolores," he said, still in the same set, even tone. "It is possible that we may yet arrive at an understanding."

She looked at him in fear, then at me, doubtingly, and again back at him.