In the Name of the People (2024)

I have given this letter because it explains thecirc*mstances of my presence in Lisbon. A lovequest. In the previous March, my sister’s husband,Stefan Madrillo, who is on the staff of the SpanishEmbassy in Paris, had introduced me to MiraldaDominguez—the most beautiful girl in Paris as she wasgenerally acknowledged; and although up to thatmoment I had never cared for any woman, except mysister, and the thought of marriage had never enteredmy head, the whole perspective of life was changed onthe instant.

The one desire that possessed me was to win herlove; the one possible prospect which was not utterlybarren and empty of everything but wretchedness,was that she would give herself to me for life.

I had one advantage over the crowd of men whom thelodestone of her beauty drew round her. I had livedin her country, spoke her language as readily as myown, and could find many interests in common.Naturally I played that for all it was worth.

From the first moment of meeting I was enslaved byher stately grace, her ravishing smile, her soft, liquid,sympathetic voice, the subtle but ineffable charm ofher presence, and the dark lustrous eyes into whichI loved to bring the changing lights of surprise, curiosity,interest and pleasure.

I was miserable when away from her; and shouldhave been wholly happy in her presence if it had notbeen for the despairing sense of unworthiness whichplagued and depressed me. She was a goddess tome, and I a mere clod.

For three weeks—three crazily happy and yetcrazily miserable weeks for me—this had continued;and then I had been wired for at a moment’s notice,owing to my dear father’s sudden illness.

[12]I had to leave within an hour of the receipt of thetelegram, without a chance of putting the questionon which my whole happiness depended, without evena word of personal leave-taking. And for the whole ofthe four months since that night I had had to remain inEngland.

During nearly all the time my father lay hoveringbetween life and death. At intervals, uncertain andtransitory, he regained consciousness; and at suchmoments his first question was for me. I could notthink of leaving him, of course; and even when theend came, the settlement of the many affairs connectedwith the large fortune he left delayed me a furthertwo or three weeks.

My sister assured me that, through some friend orother, she had contrived to let Miralda know somethingof the facts; but this was no more than a coldcomfort. When at length I turned the Stella’s headtoward Lisbon, steaming at the top speed of her powerfulengines, I felt how feeble such a written explanation,dribbling through two or three hands and watereddown in the dribbling process, might appear to Miralda,even assuming that she had given me a second thoughtas the result of those three weeks in Paris.

But I was in Lisbon at last; and although I couldnot help realizing that a hundred and fifty obstaclesmight have had time to grow up between us during thelong interval, I gritted my teeth in the resolve toovercome them.

Anyway, the following night would show me howthe land lay; and, as anything was better than suspense,I gave a sigh of relief at the thought, and havingposted the letter to my sister, set off for another prowlround the city.

I had not been there for several years—before Iwent out with the Yeomanry for a fling at the Boers—andit interested me to note the changes which hadtaken place. But I thought much more of Miralda[13]than of any changes and not at all of any possibletrouble in the streets. After a man has had a fewmoonlights rides reconnoitring kopjes which are likelyto be full of Boer snipers, he isn’t going to worry himselfgrey about a few Portuguese rag-and-bobtail withan itch for his purse.

Besides, I felt well able to take care of myself in anystreet row. I was lithe and strong and in the pink ofcondition, and knew fairly well “how to stop ’em,”as Jem Whiteway, the old boxer, used to say, with ashake of his bullet head when he tried to get throughmy guard and I landed him.

But my contempt for the dangers of the streets wasa little premature. My experiences that night weredestined to change my opinion entirely, and to changea good many other things too. Before the night wasmany hours older, I had every reason to be thankfulthat I had taken a revolver out with me.

It came about in this way. I was skirting thatdistrict of the city which is still frequently called theMouraria—a nest of little, narrow, tortuous by-waysinto which I deemed it prudent not to venture too far—andwas going down a steep street toward the riverfront, when the stillness was broken by the hoarsemurmur of many voices. I guessed that some sort of arow was in the making, and hurried on to see the fun.And as I reached a turning a little farther down, Ifound myself in the thick of it.

A small body of police came tearing round thecorner running for their lives with a crowd of men attheir heels, whooping and yelling like a pack of houndsin full sight of the fox.

As the police passed, one of them struck a vicious blowat me with a club, and I only just managed to jumpback and escape the blow. I drew into the shelterof a doorway as the mob followed. The street wasvery narrow and steep at this point, and the police,seeing the advantage it gave them, rallied to make a[14]stand some forty or fifty yards up the hill aboveme.

The foremost pursuers paused a few moments to leta good number come up; and then they went for thepolice for all they were worth. The fight was veryhot; but discipline told, as it will; and althoughthe police were tremendously outnumbered, they heldtheir ground well enough at first.

Meanwhile the racket kept bringing up reinforcementsfor the mob, and some of them began to getdisagreeably curious about me. Here was a gloriousstruggle going on against the common foe, and I wasstanding idly by instead of taking a hand in it.

One or two of them questioned me in a jeering tone,and presently some fool yelled out that I was a spy.From taunts and gibing insults, those near me proceededto threats, fists and sticks were shaken at me,and matters looked decidedly unpleasant.

I kept on explaining that I was a foreigner; but thatwas no more than a waste of breath; and I looked aboutfor a chance to get away.

I was very awkwardly placed, however. If I wentup the street, I should only run into the thick of thefight with the police; while the constant arrival offreshcomers below me made escape in that directionimpossible.

Then came a crisis. One excited idiot struck atme with a stick, and of course I had to defend myself;and for a time I was far too busy to heed what was goingon in the big row higher up the street. I tried fistsat first and, putting my back to the wall, managed tokeep the beggars at bay. Then a chance came toseize a big heavy club with which a little brute wastrying to break my head; and with that I soon clearedquite a respectable space by laying about meindiscriminately.

But suddenly the club was knocked out of my hands,and a howl of delight hailed my discomfiture. Then I[15]remembered my revolver. I whipped it out and arather happy thought occurred to me. Shouting atthe top of my lungs that I was an Englishman andhad nothing to do with either the mob or the police, Igrabbed hold of the ringleader of my assailants, andused him as a sort of hostage. Keeping him betweenmyself and the rest, I shoved the barrel of the revolveragainst his head and sung out that I would blow outhis brains if any other man attempted to harm me.

The ruse served me well. The crowd hung back;and my prisoner, in a holy scare for his life, yelledat his friends to leave me alone.

Whether the trick would have really got me outof the mess I don’t know. There was not time totell, for another development followed almost immediately.Some fresh arrivals came up yelling thatthe soldiers were close at hand; and we soon heardthem.

The mob were now caught between two fires. Thepolice were still holding their own above us, and thetroops were hurrying up from the other direction.Some one had the wit to see that the crowd’s onlychance was to carry the street against the police andclear that way for flight. A fierce attack was madeupon them, therefore, and they were driven back toone side, leaving half the roadway clear.

The throng about me melted away, and I let myprisoner go, intending to wait for the troops. ButI soon abandoned that idea; for I saw they had clubbedtheir muskets and were knocking down everybody theysaw.

I had already had a blow aimed at me by the police,and had been threatened by the mob; and being inabout equal danger from both sides, I was certain toget my head cracked if I remained. Their tactics wereto hit first and inquire afterwards, and I thereforeadopted the only alternative and took to my heels.

Being among the last to fly I was seen. A tally-ho[16]was raised and four or five of the police came dashingafter me. Not knowing the district well, I ran at topspeed and bolted round corner after corner, haphazard,keeping a sharp look-out as I ran for some place inwhich I could take cover.

I had succeeded in shaking off all but two or threewhen, on turning into one street, I spied the window ofa house standing partly open. To dart to it, throw itwide, clamber in, and close it after me took only a fewseconds; and as I squatted on the floor, breathinghard from the chase and the effects of my former tussle,I had the intense satisfaction of hearing my pursuersgo clattering past the house.

That I might be taken for a burglar and handed overto the police by the occupants of the house, did notbother me in the least. I could very easily explain matters.It was the virtual certainty of a cracked pate, notthe fear of arrest from which I had bolted; and that Ihad escaped with a sound skull was enough for me forthe present.

But no one came near me; so I stopped where Iwas until the row outside had died down. It seemedto die a hard death; and I must have sat there in thedark for over an hour before I thought of venturingout to return to my rooms.

Naturally unwilling to leave by the window, I gropedmy way out into the passage and struck a match tolook for the front door. Close to me was a staircaseleading to the upper rooms; and at the end of thepassage a second flight down to the basem*nt.

Like so many houses in Lisbon this was built ona steep hill, and guessing that I should find a way outdownstairs at the back, I decided to use that means ofleaving, as it offered less chance of my being observed.

I had just reached the head of the stairway, when adoor below was unlocked and several people enteredthe house. A confused murmur of voices followed, andamong them I heard that of a woman speaking in a tone[17]of angry protest against some mistake which thosewith her were making.

The answering voices were those of men—strident,stern, distinctly threatening, and mingled with oaths.

Then the woman spoke again; repeating her protestin angry tones; but her voice was now vibrant withrising alarm.

“Silence!”

The command broke her sentence in two, and herwords died away in muffled indistinctness, suggestingthat force had been used to secure obedience.

Then a light was kindled; there was some scufflingalong the passage; and they all appeared to enter aroom.

I paused, undecided what to do. The thing had avery ugly look; but I had had quite enough troubleto satisfy me for one night. I didn’t want to goblundering into an affair which might be no more than afamily quarrel; especially as I was trespassing in thehouse.

A few seconds later, however, came the sound oftrouble; a blow, a groan, and the thud of a fall.

I caught my breath in fear that the woman hadbeen struck down.

But the next instant a shrill piercing cry for helprang out in her voice, and this also was stifled asif a hand had been clapped on her mouth.

That decided things for me.

Whatever the consequences, I could not stop tothink of them while a woman was in such danger asthat cry for help had signalled.

MY view of the trouble was that it was a caseof robbery. The disordered condition of the citywas sure to be used by the roughs as a coverfor their operations; and I jumped to the conclusionthat the woman whose cry I was answering hadbeen decoyed to the house to be robbed.

But as I ran down the stairs I heard enough toshow me that it was in reality a sort of by-productof the riot in the streets. The woman was a prisonerin the hands of some of the mob, and they werethreatening her with violence because she was, in theirjargon, an enemy of the cause of the people.

To my surprise it was against this that she wasprotesting so vehemently. Her speech, in strongcontrast to that of the men, was proof of refinementand culture, while the little note of authority whichI had observed at first suggested rank. It was almostinconceivable, therefore, that she could have anythingin common with such fellows as her captors.

The door of the room in which they all were stoodslightly ajar, and as I reached it she reiterated herprotest with passionate vehemence.

“You are mad. I am your friend, not your enemy.I swear that. One of you must know Dr. Barosa.Find him and bring him here and he will bear out everyword I have said.”

“Holding my revolver in readiness, I entered.”

“That’s enough of that. Lies won’t help you,”came the reply in the same gruff bullying tone I had[19]heard before. “Now, Henriques,” he added, as ifordering a comrade to finish the grim work.

Holding my revolver in readiness, I entered. Therewere three of the rascals. Two had hold of thewoman who knelt between them with her back to me,while the third, also with his back to me, was justraising a club to strike her.

They were so intent upon their job and probablyso certain that no one was in the house, that they didnot notice me until I had had time to give the fellowwith the club a blow on the side of the head whichsent him staggering into a corner with an oath ofsurprise and rage. The others released their hold ofthe woman, and as I stepped in front of her, they fellaway in healthy fear of my levelled weapon.

They were the reverse of formidable antagonists;rascals from the gutter apparently; venomous enoughin looks, but undersized, feeble specimens; ready toattack an unarmed man or a defenceless woman, bututterly cowed by the sight of the business end of myrevolver.

They slunk back toward the door, rage, baulkedmalice and fear on their ugly dirty faces.

“A spy! A spy!” exclaimed the brute who hadthe stick; and at the word they felt for their knives.

“Put your hands up, you dogs,” I cried. “Theman who draws a knife will get a bullet in hishead.”

Meanwhile the woman had scrambled to her feet,with a murmured word of thanks to the Virgin formy opportune intervention, and then to my intensesurprise she put her hand on my arm and said in atone of entreaty: “Do not fire, monsieur. Theyhave only acted in ignorance.”

“You hear that, you cowardly brutes,” I said,without turning to look at her, for I couldn’t takemy eyes off the men. “Clear out, or——” and Istepped toward them as if I meant to fire.

[20]In that I made a stupid blunder as it turned out.They hung together a second and then at a whisperfrom the fellow who appeared to be the leader, theysuddenly bolted out of the room, and locked the doorbehind them.

Not at all relishing the idea of being made a prisonerin this way, I shouted to them to unlock the door,threatening to break it down and shoot them onsight if they refused. As they did not answer I pickedup a heavy chair to smash in one of the panels, whenmy companion again interposed.

But this time it was on my and her own account.“They have firearms in the house, monsieur. If youshow yourself, they will shoot you; and I shall beagain at their mercy.”

She spoke in a tone of genuine concern and, as Irecognized the wisdom of the caution, I put the chairdown again and turned to her.

It was the first good square look I had had at her,and I was surprised to find that she was both youngand surpassingly handsome—an aristocrat to herfinger tips, although plainly dressed like one of thepeople. Her features were finely chiselled, she hadan air of unmistakable refinement, she carried herselfwith the dignity of a person of rank, and her eyes,large and of a singular greenish brown hue, were bentupon me with the expression of one accustomed toexpect ready compliance with her wishes. She hadentirely recovered her self-possession and in someway had braided up the mass of golden auburn hair,the dishevelled condition of which I had noticed inthe moment of my entrance.

“You are probably right, madame,” I said; “butI don’t care for the idea of being locked in here whilethose rascals fetch some companions.”

I addressed her as madame; but she couldn’t bemore than four or five and twenty, and might be muchyounger.

[21]“There will be no danger, monsieur,” she replied ina tone of complete confidence.

“There appeared to be plenty of it just now; andthe sooner we are out of this place, the better I shallbe pleased.” And with that I turned to the windowto see if we could get out that way. It was, however,closely barred.

“You may accept my assurance. These men havebeen acting under a complete misunderstanding. Theywill bring some one who will explain everything tothem.”

“Dr. Barosa, you mean?”

“What do you know of him?” The question camesharply and with a touch of suspicion, as it seemedto me.

“Nothing, except that I heard you mention himjust as I entered.”

She paused a moment, keeping her eyes on my face,and then, with a little shrug, she turned away. “Iwill see if my ser—my companion is much hurt,” shesaid, and bent over the man who was lying against thewall.

I noticed the slip; but it was nothing to me if shewished to make me think he was a companion insteadof a servant.

She knew little or nothing about how to examinethe man’s hurt, so I offered to do it for her. “Willyou allow me to examine him, madame? I have beena soldier and know a little about first aid.”

She made way for me and went to the other end ofthe room while I looked him over. He had had justsuch a crack on the head as I feared for myself whenbolting from the troops. It had knocked the sensesout of him; but that was all. He was in no danger;so I made him as comfortable as I could and told hermy opinion.

“He will be all right, no doubt,” was her reply,with about as much feeling as I should have shown[22]for somebody else’s dog; and despite her handsomeface and air of position, I began to doubt whether hewould not have been better worth saving than she.

“How did all this happen?”

She gave a little impatient start at the question, asif resenting it. “He was brought here with me,monsieur, and the men struck him,” she replied after apause.

“Yes. But why were you brought here?”

“I have not yet thanked you for coming to myassistance, monsieur,” she replied irrelevantly. “Believeme, I do thank you most earnestly. I owe youmy life, perhaps.”

It was an easy guess that she found the questiondistasteful and had parried it intentionally; so Ifollowed the fresh lead. “I did no more than I hopeany other man would have done, madame,” I said.

“That is the sort of reply I should look for from anEnglishman, monsieur.” Her strange eyes werefixed shrewdly upon me as she made this guess at mynationality.

“I am English,” I replied with a smile.

“I am glad. I would rather be under an obligationto an Englishman than to any one except a countrymanof my own.” She smiled very graciously, almostcoquettishly, as if anxious to convince me of her absolutesincerity. But she spoilt the effect directly.Lifting her eyes to heaven and with a little toss ofthe hands, she exclaimed. “What a mercy of theVirgin that you chanced to be in the house—this houseof all others in the city.”

I understood. She wished to cross-examine me.“You are glad that I arrived in time to interruptthings just now?” I asked quietly.

“Monsieur!” Eyes, hands, lithe body, everythingbacked up the tone of surprise that I should questionit. “Do I not owe you my life?” I came tothe conclusion that she was as false as woman of[23]her colour can be. But she was an excellentactress.

“Then let me suggest that we speak quite frankly.Let me lead the way. I am an Englishman, here inLisbon on some important business, and not, as thedoubt underneath your question, implies—a spy.I——”

“Monsieur!” she cried again as if in almost horrifiedprotest.

“I was caught in the thick of a street fight,” Icontinued, observing that for all her energetic protestshe was weighing my explanation very closely. “Andhad to run for it with the police at my heels. I saw awindow of this house standing partly open and scrambledthrough it for shelter.”

“What a blessed coincidence for me!”

“It would be simpler to say, madame, that youdo not believe me,” I said bluntly.

“Ah, but on my faith——”

“Let me put it to you another way,” I cut in. “Idon’t know much of the ways of spies, but if I wereone I should have contented myself with listening atthat door, instead of entering, and have locked youall in instead of letting myself be caught in this sillyfashion.” Then I saw the absurdity of losing mytemper and burst out laughing.

She drew herself up. “You are amused, monsieur.”

“One may as well laugh while one can. If my laughoffends you, I beg your pardon for it, but I am laughingat my own conversion. An hour or two back I wasridiculing the idea of there being anything to botherabout in the condition of the Lisbon streets. Sincethen I have been attacked by the police, nearly torn topieces by the mob, had to bolt from the troops,and now you thank me for having saved your life andin the same breath take me for a spy. Don’t youthink that is enough cause for laughter? If you haveany sense of humour you surely will.”

[24]“I did not take you for a spy, monsieur,” she replieduntruthfully. “But you have learnt things whilehere. We are obliged to be cautious.”

“My good lady, how on earth can it matter? Wehave met by the merest accident; there is not theslightest probability that we shall ever meet again;and if we did—well, you suggested just now that youknow something of the ways of us English, and inthat case you will feel perfectly certain that anythingI have seen or heard here to-night will never pass mylips.”

“You have not mentioned your name, monsieur?”

“Ralph Donnington. I arrived yesterday andstayed at the Avenida. Would you like some confirmation?My card case is here, and this cigar casehas my initials outside and my full name inside.”

“I do not need anything of that sort,” she criedquickly, waving her hands. But she read both thename and the initials.

“What have you inferred from what you have seenhere to-night?”

“That the rascals who brought you here are someof the same sort of riff-raff I saw attacking the policeand got hold of you as an enemy of the people. Iheard that bit of cant from one of them. That youare of the class they are accustomed to regard as theiroppressors was probably as evident to them as to me;and when you expressed sympathy with them——”

“You heard that?” she broke in earnestly.

“Certainly, when I heard you tell them to fetchthis Dr. Barosa. But it is nothing to me; nor, thankHeaven, are your Portuguese politics or plots. Butwhat is a good deal to me is how we are going to getout of this.”

“And for what do you take me, monsieur?”

“For one of the most beautiful enthusiasts I everhad the pleasure of meeting, madame,” I replied[25]with a bow. “And a leader whom any one shouldbe glad indeed to follow.”

She was woman enough to relish the complimentand she smiled. “You think I am a leader of thesepeople, then?”

“It is my regret that I am not one of them.”

“I am afraid that is not true, Mr. Donnington.”

“At any rate I shall be delighted to follow yourlead out of this house.”

“You will not be in any danger, I assure you of that.”

As she spoke we heard the sounds of some littlecommotion outside the room and I guessed that thescoundrels had brought up some more of their kind.

“I hope so, but I think we shall soon know.”

“I have your word of honour that you will notbreathe a word of anything you have witnessed hereto-night.”

“Certainly. I pledge my word of honour.”

The men outside appeared to have a good deal tochatter about and seemed none too ready to enter.They were probably discussing who should have theprivilege of being the first to face my revolver. Idid not like the look of the thing at all.

“If they are your friends, why don’t they come in?”I asked my companion. “Hadn’t you better speakto them?”

She crossed to the door and it occurred to me toplace the head of a chair under the handle and makeit a little more difficult for them to get in.

“You need have no fear, Mr. Donnington,” she saidwith a touch of contempt as I took this precaution.

“It’s only a slight test of the mood they are in.”

As she reached the door the injured man began toshow signs of recovering his senses; and I stoopedover him while she spoke to the men.

“Is Dr. Barosa there?” she called.

Getting no reply, she repeated the question andknocked on the panel.

[26]There was an answer this time, but not at all whatshe had expected. One of the fellows fired a pistoland the bullet pierced the thin panel and went dangerouslynear her head.

I pulled her across to a spot where she would besafe from a chance shot. Only just in time, for halfa dozen shots were fired in quick succession.

She was going to speak again, but I stopped herwith a gesture; and then extinguished one of the twocandles by which the room was lighted.

A long pause followed the shots, as if the scoundrelswere listening to learn the effect of the firing.

In the silence the man in the corner groaned, andI heard the key turned in the lock as some one triedto push the door open.

I drew out my weapon.

“You will not shoot them, Mr. Donnington?”exclaimed my companion under her breath.

“Doesn’t this man Barosa know your voice?” Iwhispered.

“Of course.”

“Then he isn’t there,” I said grimly.

I raised my voice and called loudly: “Don’t youdare to enter. I’ll shoot the first man that triesto.” Then to my companion: “You’d better crouchdown in the corner here. There’ll be trouble the instantthey are inside.”

But she had no lack of pluck and shook her headdisdainfully. “You must not fire. If you shootone of these men you will not be safe for an hour inthe city.”

“I don’t appear to be particularly safe as it is,”I answered drily.

There was another pause; then a vigorous shovebroke the chair I had placed to the door and halfa dozen men rushed in.

As I raised my arm to fire, my companion caught itand stopped me.

[27]For the space of a few seconds the scoundrels staredat us, their eyes gleaming in vicious malice and triumph.I read murder in them.

“Throw your weapon on the table there,” orderedone of them.

Then a thought occurred to me.

I made as if to obey; but, instead of doing anythingof the sort, I extinguished the remaining candle, grabbedmy companion’s arm, drew her to the opposite sideof the room and, pushing her into a corner, stood infront of her.

And in the pitchy darkness we waited for the ruffiansto make the first move in their attack.

THE effect of my impulse to extinguish the lightin the room was much greater than I hadanticipated. It proved to be the happiest thought Ihad ever had; for I am convinced that it saved mylife, and probably that of my companion.

The average Portuguese of the lower class is tooplugged with superstition ever to feel very happy inthe dark. He is quick to people it with all sorts ofimpalpable terrors. And these fellows were soon ina bad scare.

For a few moments the wildest confusion prevailed.Execrations, threats, cries of anger, and prayers weremingled in about equal proportions; and every manwho had a pistol fired it off. At least, that appearedto be the case, judging by the number of shots.

As they aimed at the corner where they had seenus, however, nothing resulted except a waste of ammunition.

The darkness was all in my favour. I knew thatany man who touched me in the dark must be anenemy; while they could not tell, when they ranagainst any one, whether it was friend or foe. Morethan one struggle among them told me this, and showedme further what was of at least equal importance—thatthey were afraid to advance farther into theroom.

When a lull came in the racket, therefore, I adoptedanother ruse. I crept toward the corner where they[29]had seen us, and, stamping heavily, cried out that Iwould shoot the first man I touched.

Another volley of shots followed; but I was backout of range again, and soon had very welcome proofthat the trick was successful. Each man appearedto mistake his neighbour for me, and some of themwere pretty roughly handled by their friends beforethe blunders were discovered.

Some one shouted for a light; and in the lull thatsucceeded we had a great stroke of luck. The woundedman, who lay in a corner near to them, began to movehis feet restlessly, and they immediately jumped tothe conclusion that I was going to attack them fromthere.

I backed this idea promptly. Letting out a fierceyell of rage, I fired a shot at random. This filled tooverflowing the cup of their cowardice, and in anothermoment they had bolted like rabbits out of the roomand locked the door again.

I lost no time in relighting the candles, and set towork to pile the furniture against the door to preventthem taking us again by surprise, and to give me timeto see if we couldn’t get away by the window.

Opening it as quietly as possible I had a good lookat the bars, and saw that it would be possible to forcethem sufficiently apart with wedges for us to squeezethrough.

“We can reach the street this way, madame?” Iasked my companion, who was now very badly scared.

“It is useless,” she replied despairingly.

“Not so useless as stopping here. We can’t expectsuch luck a second time as we have just had.”I spoke sharply, wishing to rouse her.

But she only shook her head and tossed up herhands. So I began to break up some of the furnitureto make some wedges, when she jumped to her feetwith a cry of surprise and delight.

“It is his voice,” she exclaimed, her eyes shining[30]and her face radiant with delight. Whoever “he”might be, it was easy to see what she felt abouthim.

Then the key was turned once more and an attemptmade to force away my impromptu barricade.

I closed the window instantly and blew out one ofthe candles.

“Open the door. It is I, Barosa,” called a voice.

“Let him in, monsieur. Let him in at once. Weare safe now.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, suspecting a trick.

Again the rich colour flooded her face. “Do youthink I do not know his voice, or that he would harmme? Let him in. Let him in, I say,” she criedexcitedly.

I pulled away enough of the barricade to admit oneman at a time. I reckoned that no one man of thecrowd I had seen would have the pluck to come inalone.

A dark, handsome, well-dressed man squeezed hisway through the opening with an impatient exclamationon the score of my precaution. And the instantshe saw his face, my companion sprang toward himuttering his name impetuously.

“Manoel! Manoel! Thank the Holy Virgin youhave come.”

His appearance excited me also, for I recognizedhim at a glance. He had been pointed out to me inParis some time before by my brother-in-law as oneof the chief agents of Dom Miguel, the Pretender tothe Portuguese Throne. His real name was LuisBeriardos. His presence in Lisbon at such a time andhis connexion with a section of the revolutionariesgave me a clue to the whole business.

The two stood speaking together for a time in whispers,and then he went out to the others. I heard himexplain that they had made a blunder in regard tomadame and that he was ready to vouch for her as[31]one of their best friends and a leader of theirmovements.

Some further murmur of talk followed, and when hereturned, one or two of the rest tried to follow. ButI stopped that move. One man was all I meant tohave in the room at a time; and when I told theothers to get out they went. I had managed to makethem understand that it was safer to obey.

“What does this mean, sir?” asked Barosa, indignantly.

“You need have no fear now, Mr. Donnington,”added madame.

I replied to Barosa. “Those men have been tellingyou that I am a spy and you have come in to questionme. This lady has assured me that I have nothingto fear from you. You will therefore have the goodnessto get the key of that door and lock it on this side.Then we can talk, but not till then.”

“I shall not do anything of the sort,” he repliedhotly.

“Then I shall shove these things back in position;”and I began.

“Dr. Barosa will get the key, Mr. Donnington,”put in madame; and she appealed to him with a look.“He has saved my life, doctor,” she said in an undertone.

I noticed that she did not now call him by hisChristian name as in the first flush of her relief.

He hesitated a second or two and then with anangry shrug of the shoulders complied.

“I’ll take the key, doctor,” I said quietly; andwhen he stood irresolute, I pushed past him anddrew it out of the lock. “Now we can talk, and I’mready to answer any questions, in reason, which youlike to ask.”

“Your conduct is very extraordinary, sir.”

“Not a bit of it. These friends of yours take mefor a spy. You may come to the same conclusion.[32]They tried to take my life; and you may wish to dothe same. I am simply taking precautions. I havetold this lady enough about myself to satisfy her thatI am no spy; but if you are not equally satisfied, Iprefer to remain here with no other company thanourselves until a chance of getting away offers.”

He was going to reply when madame interposed.To do her justice she took up my cause with a rightgood will. She repeated all I had previously told her,gave him a graphic account of what had passed,lauded me to the skies, and ended by declaring herabsolute conviction that every word I had spokenwas the truth.

Feeling that my case was in safe hands, I let themhave it out together. He was suspicious, and atevery proof of this, her anger and indignation increased.

“I have accepted Mr. Donnington’s word, Dr.Barosa,” she said hotly, when he declared that I oughtnot to be allowed to leave the house; “and I havegiven him a pledge for his safety. You know me,and that I will keep my word. Very well, I declare toyou on my honour that if any harm comes to himnow, I will abandon the cause and reveal everythingI know about it and all concerned in it.”

That shook all the opposition out of him on the spot.

“You are at liberty to go, Mr. Donnington,” hesaid at once.

“Thank you; but what about your friends outthere?”

“I will leave the house with you,” declared madame.“And we will see if any one will dare to try and stopyou.”

“It might be simpler if they were to go first,” Isuggested.

“I will answer for them,” said Barosa. “We haveyour word that you will not speak of anything youhave learned here to-night?”

“Yes, I pledge my word,” I replied.

[33]“Let me thank you once more, Mr. Donnington——”began madame.

But I stopped her. “We can call the accountbetween us squared, madame. If I helped you outof one mess you have got me out of this. And forthe rest, silence for silence. We shall not meet again.”

“Are you staying long in the city, sir?” askedBarosa with a suggestion of eagerness in his tone.

“Not an hour longer than my business here rendersnecessary. I am not so delighted with my experiencesso far as to wish to remain.”

He left the room then and after a hurried conferencewith the fellows outside he called to us and we leftthe house.

With what relief I drew the first breath of the freshnight air will be readily understood; but I do notthink I fully realized how narrow an escape I had haduntil I was safe in my rooms and sat recalling theincidents of the strange adventure.

Who was the woman I had helped? Not a hinthad been dropped of her name; but that she was aperson of as much importance in the world outside asin the ranks of the revolutionary party of which shewas a leader, I could not doubt. That the conspiracywas being carried on in the interest of the Pretenderwas fairly certain, seeing that this Beriardos, or Barosa,as he now called himself, was mixed up in it; and Iresolved to write at once to Madrillo to send me everythinghe knew about him.

What had he meant, too, by that eager question asto the length of my stay in the city? He was certainlynot satisfied that I was not a spy. Should Ihave to be on the look-out for further trouble fromhim and the scum of the city joined with him? Itwas a more probable than pleasant prospect.

As that exceedingly handsome creature had remindedme, I had gained some information which made medangerous to these people; and however willing she[34]might be to accept my promise of secrecy, it was allPortugal to a bunch of grapes that the others wouldnot be so content.

And the irritating part of it was that I had gotinto the mess through my own blundering stupidity.If I hadn’t been ass enough to go wandering aboutthe city when I had been warned to stop indoors, Ishouldn’t have had this bother. But the world is fullof asses; and many of them with a heap more brainsthan I. And with a chuckle, as if that silly cynicismwere both an excuse and a consolation, I tossed awaymy cigar and went to bed.

A night’s sound sleep put me on much better termswith myself, and I scouted the thought of troublesomepersonal consequences following my adventure. Thething was over and done with and I was well out ofthe mess.

Instead of bothering to write to Madrillo for detailsabout this Dr. Barosa, therefore, I went off to theStella for a cruise to blow the cobwebs away and thinkabout Miralda and the meeting with her that evening.

We were to meet at the house of the Marquis dePinsara, and my friend, Volheno, had impressedupon me the importance of the gathering.

“Affairs are in a somewhat delicate condition justat present,” he had said; “and as there is a great dealof surface discontent here and in Oporto—althoughthe bulk of the country is solid in our favour—wehave to exercise some care in organizing our followers.The Marquis de Pinsara is one of M. Franco’s firmestadherents, and this reception will really be politicalin character. You may have heard of the ‘NationalLeague of Portugal?’ No? Well, it is a powerfulloyalist association, and we are doing our utmost tomake the movement fully representative and powerful;”and being a politician and proportionatelyverbose, he had first inflicted upon me a long accountof the League and its merits, and from that had launched[35]into the reasons why he meant to take me to the reception.Put shortly these were simply that he wishedto interest the Marquis de Pinsara and many of hisloyalist friends in the concessions at Beira which Ihad put forward as the object of my visit.

What this process of “interesting” the Marquismeant, I learnt within a few minutes of my enteringhis house.

As Volheno sent me a line at the last moment sayinghe was detained, I had to go alone and I was veryglad. Not being quite certain how Miralda wouldreceive me, I did not wish to have any lookers-onwhen me met. Moreover, I certainly did not want tofool away the evening, a good deal of which I hopedto spend with her, in talking a lot of rot about theseconcessions which I had only used as a stalking-horsefor my visit to Lisbon.

But I soon found that in choosing them, I had investedmyself with a most inconvenient amount of importance.

The Marquis received me with as much cordialityas if I were an old friend and benefactor ofhis family. He grasped my hand warmly, expressedhis delight at making my acquaintance, could notfind words to describe his admiration of Englandand the English, and then started upon the concessions.

I thought he would never stop, but he came to thepoint. Volheno had taken as gospel all the rubbishI had talked about the prospects of wealth offeredby the concessions, and had passed it on to the marquisthrough a magnifying glass until the latter, being acomparatively poor man, was under the impressionthat I could make his fortune. He was more thanwilling to be “interested” in the scheme; and tookgreat pains to convince me that without his influence Icould not succeed. And that influence was mine fora consideration.

In the desire to get free from his button-holing I[36]gave him promises lavish enough to send him off tohis other guests with eyes positively glittering withgreed.

Unfortunately for me, however, he began to usehis influence at once, and while I was hanging aboutnear the entrance, waiting to catch Miralda the momentshe arrived, he kept bringing up a number of his friends—mostlytitled and all tiresome bores—whom he wasalso “interesting” in the scheme.

They all said the same thing. Theirs was the onlyinfluence which could secure the concessions for me,and they all made it plain about the consideration.I began at length to listen for the phrase and occasionallyto anticipate it; and thus in half an hour or soI had promised enough backsheesh to have crippledthe scheme ten times over.

One of these old fellows—a marquis or visconte orsomething of the sort, the biggest bore of the lotanyway—was in possession of me in a corner whenMiralda arrived, and for the life of me I couldn’tshake him off. I was worrying how to get away whenthe marquis came sailing up with another of them intow, a tall, stiff, hawk-faced, avaricious-looking oldman, with a pompous air, and more orders on hisbreast than I could count.

I groaned and wished the concessions at the bottomof the Tagus, but the next moment had to shut downa smile. It was the Visconte de Linto, Miralda’sstepfather.

The marquis had evidently filled him up withexaggerated stories of my wealth and the riches Ihad come to pour into the pockets of those who assistedme, and his first tactic was to get rid of the borein possession. He did this by carrying me off topresent me to his wife and daughter.

It was the reverse of such a meeting as I had picturedor desired; for at that moment Miralda was besiegedby a crowd of men clamouring for dances. But I[37]could not think of an excuse, and I had barely timeto explain that I had met Miralda and her mother inParis, when the old man pushed his way unceremoniouslythrough the little throng and introduced me,stumbling over my name which he had obviously forgotten,and adding that Miralda must save two or three dancesfor me.

As he garbled my name she was just taking herdance card back from a man who had scribbled hisinitials on it and she turned to me with a little impatientmovement of the shoulders which I knew well.

Our eyes met, and my fear that she might have forgottenme was dissipated on the instant.

ALTHOUGH it was easy to read the look of recognitionin Miralda’s eyes, it was the reverse ofeasy to gather the thoughts which that recognitionprompted. After the first momentary widening of thelids, the start of surprise, and the involuntary tighteningof the fingers on her fan, she was quick to force asmile, as she bowed to me, and the smile served asan impenetrable mask to her real feelings.

The viscontesse gave me a very different welcome.She was pleased to see me again and frankly expressedher pleasure. I had done my best to ingratiate myselfin her favour during those three weeks in Paris, andhad evidently been successful. She was a kind-heartedgarrulous soul, and before I could get a word in aboutthe dances, she plunged into a hundred and one questionsabout Paris and England and the beauties of Lisbon, andwhy I had not let them know of my coming and soon, and without giving me time to reply she turnedto Miralda.

“You surely remember Mr. Donnington, child?We met him in Paris, last spring.”

“Oh yes, mother. His sister is M. Madrillo’s wife,”said Miralda indifferently.

This was not exactly how I wished to be remembered.“I am glad you have not forgotten my sister, at anyrate, mademoiselle,” I replied, intending this to bevery pointed.

“M. Madrillo showed us many kindnesses, monsieur,[39]and did much to make our stay in Paris pleasant;and it is not a Portuguese failing to forget.”

This was better, for there was a distinct note ofresentment in her voice instead of mere indifference.But before I could reply, the viscontesse interposeda very natural but extremely inconvenient question.“And what brings you here, Mr. Donnington?”

The visconte answered this, making matters worsethan ever; and there followed a little by-play ofcross purposes.

“Mr. Donnaheen is here on some very importantbusiness, my dear—very important business indeed.”

“If I remember, Donnington is the proper pronunciation,father,” interposed Miralda, very quietly,as if courtesy required the correction—the courtesythat was due to a stranger, however.

“I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me, Miralda,” hereplied testily. “This gentleman will understandhow difficult some English names are to pronounceand will excuse my slip, I am sure.”

“Certainly, visconte.”

“I am only sorry I do not speak English.”

“Donnington is quite easy to pronounce, Affonso,”his wife broke in.

He gave a sigh of impatience. “Of course it is, Iknow that well enough.”

“You were speaking of the reason for Mr. Donnington’svisit,” Miralda reminded him demurely; andas she turned to him her eyes swept impassivelyacross my face. As if a stranger’s presence in Lisbonwere a legitimate reason for the polite assumptionof curiosity.

“It is in a way Government business; Mr. Donnington”—hegot the name right this time and smiled—“isseeking some concessions in our East Africancolony and he needs my influence.”

“Oh, business in East Africa?” she repeated, witha lift of the eyebrows. “How very interesting;”[40]and with that she turned away and handed her programmeto one of the men pestering her for a dance.

No words she could have spoken and nothing shecould have done would have been so eloquent of herappreciation of my conduct in absenting myself forfour months and then coming to Lisbon on business.Once more I wished those infernal concessions at thebottom of the Tagus.

“I hope to be of considerable use and you may dependupon my doing my utmost,” said the visconte,self-complacently.

“I cannot say how highly I shall value your influence,sir, not only in that but in everything,” I replied,putting an emphasis on the “everything” in the hopethat Miralda would understand.

But she paid no heed and went on chatting with theman next her.

“And how long are you staying, Mr. Donnington?”asked her mother.

“Rather a superfluous question that, Maria,” saidher husband. “Of course it will depend upon howyour business goes, eh, Mr. Donnington?”

I saw a chance there and took it. “I am afraidmy object will take longer to accomplish than I hoped,”I replied; for Miralda’s benefit again of course.

“At any rate you will have time for some pleasure-making,I trust,” said the viscontesse.

“Englishmen don’t let pleasure interfere with business,my dear, they are far too strenuous,” repliedher husband, who appeared to think he was flatteringme and doing me a service by insisting that I couldhave no possible object beyond business. “I presumethat you are only here to-night for the one purpose.The Marquis de Pinsara told me as much.”

At that moment a partner came up to claim Miraldafor a dance, and as she rose she said: “Mr. Donningtonis fortunate in finding so many to help him in hisbusiness.”

[41]“Wait a moment, Miralda,” exclaimed her fatheras she was turning away. “Have you kept the dancesfor Mr. Donnington?”

Again her eyes flashed across mine with the samehalf-disdainful smile of indifference. “Mr. Donningtonhas been so occupied discussing the serious purposeof his visit that he has had no time to think of suchfrivolity and ask for them;” and with that partingshot she went off to the ball-room without waiting tohear my protest.

The visconte smiled and gestured. “I supposeyou don’t dance, Mr. Donnington,” he said, “I haveheard that many Englishmen do not.”

“Indeed he does, Affonso,” declared his wife quickly.“I remember that well in Paris. He and Miraldaoften danced together. And now, sit down here inMiralda’s place till she comes back and let us have achat about Paris,” she added to me.

But the old visconte had not quite done with me.Drawing me aside—“I want you to feel that I shalldo all in my power, Mr. Donnington,” he began.

I knew what was coming so I anticipated him. “Iam sure of that, and I have been given to understandthat you can do more for me than any one else in Portugal.And of course you’ll understand that those who assistme in the early stages will naturally share in the afteradvantages and gains. I make a strong point of that.”

“Of course that was not in my mind at all,” heprotested.

“Naturally. But I should insist upon it,” I saidgravely.

“I suppose it will be a very big thing?”

“Millions in it, visconte. Millions;” and I threwout my hands as if half the riches of the earth wouldsoon be in their grasp. “And of course I know thatwithout you I should be powerless.”

He appreciated this thoroughly and went off onexcellent terms with himself and with a high opinion[42]of me as a potential source of wealth, while I sat downby the viscontesse to explain why four months hadpassed since we met.

But these miserable concessions gave me no peace.I was only beginning my explanation when up camethe marquis and dragged me off for the first of anotherbatch of introductions, followed by a long conferencein another room with him and Volheno who hadmeanwhile arrived. And just as the marquis tookmy arm to lead me away, and thus prevented myescape, Miralda returned from the dance.

A single glance showed her that I was fully occupiedin the business which I had been forced to admit inher presence was the object of my visit to Lisbon,and the expression of her eyes and the shrug of hershoulders were a sufficient indication of her feeling.

I was properly punished for the silly lie which I hadmerely intended to conceal my real purpose, andwhen I saw Miralda welcome a fresh partner with asmile which I would have given the whole of PortugueseAfrica to have won from her, I could scarcelykeep my temper.

I was kept at this fool talk for an hour or more whenI ought to have been making my peace with her, andI resolved on the spot to invent a telegram fromLondon the next day reporting a hitch in the negotiations.

When at length I got free, Miralda was not anywhereto be seen; and I wandered about the roomsand in and out of the conservatories looking for her,putting up no end of couples in odd corners and gettingdeservedly scowled at for my pains.

I saw her at last among the dancers; and I stood andwatched her, gritting my teeth in the resolve that notitled old bores nor even wild horses should preventmy speaking to her as soon as the waltz was over.

I stalked her into a palm house which I had missedin my former search and, giving her and her partner[43]just enough time to find seats, I followed and walkedstraight up to them.

She knew I was coming. I could tell that by theway she squared her shoulders and affected the deepestinterest in her partner’s conventional nothings.

“I think the next is our dance, mademoiselle,” Isaid unblushingly, as I affected to consult my card.She gave a start as if entirely surprised by andrather indignant at the interruption; while her partnerhad the decency to rise. But she glanced at hercard and then looked up with a bland smile and shookher head. “I am afraid you are mistaken, monsieur.”

The man was going to resume his place by her side,but I stopped that. “I have the honour of yourinitials here, and if to my intense misfortune you havegiven the dance to two of us, perhaps this gentlemanwill allow me, as an old acquaintance of yours, to enjoythe few minutes of interval to deliver an importantmessage entrusted to me.”

I was under the fire of her eyes all the time I wasdelivering this flowery and untruthful rigmarole;but I was as voluble and as grave as a judge. I tookthe man in all right. I made him feel that under thecirc*mstances he was in the way and with a courteousbow to us both, he excused himself.

Miralda was going to request him to remain, I think,so I took possession of the vacant chair; and then ofcourse she could not bring him back without makingtoo much of the incident and possibly causing a littlescene.

That I had offended her I could not fail to see; herhostility and resentment were obvious, but whether thecause was my present effrontery or my long neglectof her, I had yet to find out.

She did not quite know what to do. After sittinga few moments in rather frowning indecision, she halfrose as if she were going to leave me, but with a little[44]toss of the head she decided against that and turnedto me.

“You have a message for me, monsieur?” Hertone was one of studied indifference and her lookdistinctly chilling.

“For one thing, my sister desired to be most kindlyremembered to you.”

Up went the deep fringed lids and the dark eyebrows,as a comment upon the message which I had describedas important. “Please to tell Madame Madrillo thatI am obliged by her good wishes and reciprocatethem.” This ridiculously stilted phrase made itdifficult for me to resist a smile. But I played up toit.

“I feel myself deeply honoured, mademoiselle, bybeing made the bearer of any communication fromyou. I will employ my most earnest efforts to conveyto my sister your wishes and the auspicious circ*mstancesunder which they are so graciously expressed.”

She had to turn away before I finished, but shewould not smile. There was, however, less real chilland more effort at formality when she replied—

“As you have delivered your message, monsieur——”she finished with a wave of the hands, as if dismissingme.

But I was not going of course, and then I made avery gratifying little discovery. Her dance card wasturned over by her gesture and I saw that for the nextdance she had no partner.

“That is only one of the messages, mademoiselle,”I replied after a pause in the same stilted tone. “HaveI your permission to report the second?”

I guessed she was beginning to see the absurdity ofit, for she turned slightly away from me and bowed,not trusting herself to speak.

“My brother-in-law, M. Stefan Madrillo, desiredme to bring you an assurance of his best wishes.”

“Have you any messages from the children also,[45]monsieur?” she asked quickly, with a swift flash ofher glorious eyes.

I kept it up for another round. “I am honouredby being able to assure you that their boy appreciatedto the full the bon-bons which were the outcome ofyour distinguished generosity when in Paris, and retainshis appetite for delicacies; but the little girl,not yet being able to speak, has entrusted me withno more than some gurgles and coos. To my profoundregret I cannot reproduce them verbatim. May Ihave the honour of conveying your reply?”

She kept her face turned right away from me anddid not answer.

“I have yet another message, mademoiselle, if yourpatience is not exhausted,” I said after a pause.

“Still another, monsieur?”

“Still another, mademoiselle.”

“From whom, monsieur?”

“From a man you knew in Paris, mademoiselle,Mr. Ralph Donnington. He has charged me toexplain——”

“I don’t wish to hear that one, thank you,” shebroke in.

“But he is absolutely determined that you shallhear it.”

“Shall?” she cried warmly, throwing back herhead with a lovely poise of indignation and lookingstraight into my eyes.

“Yes, shall,” I replied firmly. “I have travelledover a thousand miles to deliver it.”

“I am not interested in mining concessions, Mr. Donnington,”she cried scornfully, thinking to wither me.

“Nor am I.”

Her intense surprise at this put all her indignationto flight, and left nothing in her eyes but bewilderedcuriosity.

“Nor am I,” I repeated with a smile.

“But——”

[46]“I know,” I said when she paused. “I had tohave a pretext.”

She knew what I meant then and lowered her eyes.

“I still do not wish to hear Mr. Donnington’s message,”she said after a pause and in a very differenttone.

“I do not wish to force it upon you now, and certainlynot against your wish. I may be some monthsin Lisbon, and——”

“There is the band for the next dance, I must go,”she interposed.

“I have seen by your card that you have no partner;but if you wish me to leave you I will do so, ortake you back to the viscontesse—unless you willgive it to me.”

She leant back in her chair, her head bent, her browsgathered in a frown of perplexity and her fingersplaying nervously with her fan.

“I do not wish to dance, Mr. Donnington, thankyou,” she murmured.

“Just as you will.”

A long silence followed. She was agitated and Iperplexed.

After perhaps a minute of this silence, I rose.

“You wish to be alone, mademoiselle?”

She did not reply and I was turning to leave whenshe looked up quickly. “I do not wish you to go,Mr. Donnington.” Then putting aside the thoughts,whatever they were, which had been troubling her,she laughed and added: “Why should I? It ispleasant to meet an old acquaintance. You havecome through Paris on your way here, of course. Wereyou there long?”

I was more perplexed by the change of tone andmanner than by her former silent preoccupation.

“I did not come through Paris,” I replied, as Iresumed my seat. “I came from England in theStella—my yacht.”

[47]“You have had delightful weather for your cruise.”

“I was not cruising in that sense. The Stella is avery fast boat and I came in her because I could gethere more quickly.”

“Our Portuguese railways are very slow, of course,and the Spanish trains no better. It is a very tediousjourney from Paris.”

“Very,” I agreed. Whether she wished to makesmall talk in order to avoid my explanation, I did notknow; but I fell in with her wish and then tried tolead round to the old time in Paris.

She turned my references to it very skilfully however,and after my third unsuccessful attempt, sheherself referred to it in a way that forced me to regardit as a sealed page.

“It has been very pleasant to meet you again, Mr.Donnington, and have such a delightful chat, and Iam so much obliged to you for not having pressedme to dance. I hope we shall see a good deal of youwhile you are here. You quite captured my dearmother during that time in Paris. Of course you’llcall.”

“I ventured to leave cards immediately on myarrival.”

Then she rose. “I must really go now. MajorSampayo will be looking for me for the next dance.Have you met the major yet?”

“I don’t think so; but I have had so many introductionsthis evening that I don’t remember all thenames.”

“Ah, the result of your supposed purpose in Lisbon,probably. Of course I shall keep your secret,” shereplied with a smile. Then a sudden change cameover her. She paused, the hand which held her fantrembled, the effort to maintain the light indifferenceof voice and manner became apparent, and her voicewas a trifle unsteady as she added: “You will meetMajor Sampayo at our house. Ah, here he comes with[48]my friend the Contesse Inglesia. I suppose my motherhas told you I am betrothed to him.”

The news gripped me like a cramp in the heart, andI caught my breath and gritted my teeth as I stared ather.

But the next instant I rallied. The pain and concernin her eyes seemed to explain what had so perplexedme in her manner. Her agitation when I toldher the real purpose of my presence; her quick assumptionof indifference, of mere acquaintanceship, herstudious evasion of my references to our time in Paris,and her light surface talk on things of no concern toeither of us. If my new wild hope was right, all thishad been merely intended to school herself to referlightly to the matter of her betrothal.

I forced a smile. “Permit me to congratulate——”I began; but the words died on my lips as I turnedand saw the two people whom she had mentioned.

The man, Major Sampayo, I knew to be one of thevilest scoundrels who ever escaped the gallows.

And his companion was the woman whose life I hadsaved from her revolutionary associates on the previousnight.

WITH a big effort I managed to pull myselftogether, and much to Miralda’s surprise Icovered my momentary confusion with a hearty laughand a sentence spoken for the benefit of the other twowho were now within earshot.

“I’m afraid I’ve bored you frightfully, but Icouldn’t resist sparing a few minutes from this concession-mongeringbusiness. And after your saying thatthe viscontesse remembers our chats in Paris, I shallcertainly ask her to allow me to call.”

I succeeded in speaking in the tone of a quite casualacquaintance, and I turned to find two pairs of eyesfixed intently upon me.

Whether the fellow who now called himself MajorSampayo recognized me I could not tell, but his companiondid, and I waited for her to decide whetherwe were to acknowledge that we had met.

She made no sign and I made my bow to Miraldaand was moving off when the major intervened.

“Will you present me to your friend, Miralda?”

I could have kicked him for the glib use of her name.I paused and turned with a smile, as if highly pleasedby the request. If I knew myself, the kicking wouldcome later.

“Mr. Donnington, may I introduce Major Sampayo?”said Miralda, a little nervously.

I bowed and smirked, but behind the entrenchmentof English reserve I made no offer to take his hand.

[50]“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Donnington.”

“I consider myself equally fortunate, Major Sampayo.”

I saw then that he had an uneasy feeling that wehad met somewhere before, and his eyes moved fromside to side as he searched his memory to place myvoice or face or name.

“Is that really Mr. Donnington?” exclaimed hiscompanion, with a delightful assumption of interestedsurprise. “My dear Miralda, please don’t leave meout.”

“My friend the Contesse Inez Inglesia,” said Miralda.

She held out her hand and as I took it she lookedstraight into my eyes with a most cordial smile. “Ihave heard so much about you, Mr. Donnington, thatI have been questioning every one I know to find amutual friend, and wandering all over the rooms tofind you.”

Which meant that she knew I had been a long timewith Miralda.

“I have such an implicit faith in Portuguese sincerity,contesse, that you will turn my head if youflatter me so. The fact is I have been making anunconscionable bore of myself with Mademoiselle Dominguez.I met her and the viscontesse in Paris last spring,and I was so glad to find a face I knew to-night, thatI could not resist the temptation for a chat.”

“Have you been long in Lisbon, sir?” asked Sampayo,still worrying himself about me.

“Two days, major, that’s all. I came in myyacht.”

“Surely you’ve heard about Mr. Donnington,major,” said the contesse. “He’s the millionairewho has come about the mining concessions in Beira,or somewhere.”

“No, I had not heard that,” he replied, with a littlestart, as if this might have suggested a clue to hisproblem. “Have you been in Beira, sir?”

[51]I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. “I supposeI ought not to own it, but I was never there in mylife.”

“Major Sampayo knows every inch of South Africa,Mr. Donnington,” said the contesse. “He was outthere at the time your country was at war with theBoers.”

“Oh, indeed,” said I, as if in great surprise. I knewthat well enough. “Then I shall hope to get somewrinkles from him.”

“You served in that war, didn’t you, Mr. Donnington?”asked Miralda, evidently feeling she oughtto say something.

“For a few months. I was in Bloemfontein andMafeking.” I purposely named places as distant aspossible from the spot where I had seen him. I didnot wish him to recognize me yet.

“Were you out at the finish of the campaign?” heasked at the prompting of his uneasy fears.

“About the middle. I was sent down country afterthe relief of Mafeking.” This was half truth but alsohalf lie. I had gone up again almost immediately.But it appeared to ease his unrest.

“I have a curious feeling that we have met somewhere,”he said; “and was wondering whether it couldhave been out in South Africa. That was the reasonfor my rather inquisitive questions.”

I laughed. “Oh, I should have recognized you ina moment if that had been the case. I never forget aface.”

This made him uneasy again, but, as the band struckup, he gave his arm to Miralda.

“Thanks for a delightful chat, mademoiselle,” Isaid lightly to Miralda. “May I take you to yourpartner, madame?” I asked, offering my arm to theContesse.

Instead of accepting it she said to Miralda. “Ifyou see Vasco tell him I’ll give him another waltz[52]for this. I am going to sit this out with Mr. Donnington—thatis, of course, if he is willing.”

“I’ll tell him, Inez,” replied Miralda over her shoulderas she walked away.

Inez was silent until they were out of hearing, andthen she said very meaningly: “What an excellentactor you are, Mr. Donnington.”

“May I return the compliment? I saw that youwished it to appear that we were complete strangers.And with your permission that is just what we havebeen up to the moment of this introduction.”

Another pause followed by a surprise for me.

“So you are Miralda’s Englishman!”

But I was too well on my guard to betray myself.“Am I really?” I asked with an easy laugh. “Wehad a jolly time for a week or two, but—that’s fourmonths ago.”

“You are fond of camelias, Mr. Donnington.”

“I am wearing one, as you see,” I replied pointingto my buttonhole. But I had often given cameliasto Miralda in those three weeks; and this handsome,dangerous, stately creature with hazel eyes, whichwere open and frank or diabolically sly at will, knewit.

Again she paused once more as the preface to a shot.

“What do you know about Major Sampayo, Mr.Donnington?” She flashed the question at me, hereyes searchlights in their intensity.

“I think he’s quite a handsome man and looks awfullywell in that rather gorgeous uniform; and Ipresume those orders on his chest show that he is asdistinguished a soldier as he looks.”

“Spoken without even a shadow of hesitation. Ideclare that every moment I admire your actingmore.” She let her eyes rest on mine and half closedthe lids. “I think I am glad I am not Major Sampayo,”she said slowly.

“I should imagine you have every reason to be satisfied[53]with your own delightfully handsome personality.But if it comes to that, I am also glad I am not themajor.”

“Not even with Miralda thrown in?”

“Not even with Miralda thrown in,” I repeated witha laugh. “She’s a very charming girl and exceedinglypretty and all that. She was acknowledged tobe one of the prettiest girls in Paris last spring, youknow, and I admire her tremendously.”

“A frank admission of unconcerned admiration isvery clever, of course, but I am not deceived by it, Mr.Donnington.”

“No? Well then shall I confess that I worship her,that the ground her foot touches is changed to holysoil; that when she smiles I am in heaven, and whenshe frowns, in hell; and that for four months I haveonly existed on the hope of seeing her again; that shefills my heart, inspires my every thought, dominatesmy every action, permeates my being, and is the end-alland be-all of my life?” I declaimed all this with alot of extravagant gesture; and then added in a differenttone: “And why on earth do you want to insistthat I am in love with her?”

“It is necessary that I know exactly the relationshipbetween you?”

“My relationship is precisely the same as betweenyou and myself, madame.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are we not all cousins in more or less remotedegree—in our descent from Adam and Eve?”

She rustled her shoulders impatiently. “Don’tyou understand what I mean? You know how wefirst met.”

“Oh ho, and is the fair Miralda one of you?” Ilaughed. “But I thought that subject wastaboo?”

“You know my secret and I can therefore talkfreely to you.”

[54]“I would very much rather that you did not, if youplease.”

“I am under the deepest of all obligations to you,Mr. Donnington; you saved my life and I wish to beyour friend. If you have any such feeling for Miraldaas you have burlesqued, I owe it to you to let youunderstand things and be warned in time. It is not possiblefor a foreigner to know the undercurrents of life hereat present.”

“My dear lady, I am only trying to swim on the surface.I find myself to-night in the house of one of thestaunchest supporters of the Government at a gatheringintended to strengthen the position of the loyalistbody—the National League of Portugal.”

“I am one of the acknowledged leaders of thatLeague.”

I could not restrain a start of astonishment at this;and she noticed it, of course.

“You are surprised. But many of those here aremy friends—my political friends, I mean. It was mypublic connexion with the League which led me intothe trouble last night. The men who threatened meknew of my position in it, but not of my sympathieswith them—that of course is as close a secret aspossible—and by a trick decoyed me to a house where Iwas seized and brought to where you found me. Theintention was to kill me and then carry me into thestreets to make it appear that I had been killed in therioting. You will understand from this the dangerousforces that are at work. Some of those mensuspect you of being a spy and you will be well advisednot to prolong your stay in Lisbon. And your friendshipwith M. Volheno will not add to your safety.”

“Cannot an Englishman come here without beingtaken for a spy?”

“You know that one of your best English detectiveshas been employed by the Spanish Governmentto reorganize the detective force there. One story[55]I have heard is that you yourself are an English detectiveengaged by M. Volheno to help in unearthing someof the conspiracies here, and that your desire to obtainsome concessions in Africa is a mere blind.”

“It would be difficult to go much further awayabout me, anyway.”

“Yet those who seek concessions from a Governmentdo not usually advertise the fact far and wide.You are a man of courage and resource: we have hadproof of that. You have learnt some of our secretsand one of our haunts. You have some secret knowledgeabout Major Sampayo that threatens him; andyou are more than clever enough to sustain the partof an Englishman of wealth and position.”

“And do you mean that you yourself believe thispreposterous story?”

“No; but I should like to know the real reasonfor your coming here.”

“And that Dr. Barosa, does he take me for a spy?”

“No, we have already made inquiries about you fromour friends in England. But, like myself, he wishesto know why you are here. You will do well to giveme your confidence.”

“And your other colleague—Major Sampayo?”

“I did not tell you that he was with us.”

“Not in so many words. And really I don’t care.”

“He will remember where he has met you before,and the facts may help us to know more about you—foryour benefit or otherwise.”

“My dear madame, if you mean that for a threat,it does not in the least alarm me. Let me tell you oncefor all I am not a member of the English detectiveforce; my presence here has not the remotest connexionwith your politics or your plots; and I haveno sort of sympathy with them one way or another.I am just an average Englishman; and as such claimthe right to go where I will when I will, so long as Imind my own business. And as an Englishman I[56]can take care of myself and must decline to be frightenedout of doing what I wish to do either by charming,cultured and handsome ladies, like yourself, or bysuch gutter scum as I had the tussle with last night.”

“Then you refuse to give me your confidence?”

“Let me put it rather that I have really no confidenceworth giving. I shall hold absolutely secretwhat you have told me—that on my honour. Andnow do you mind if we talk about the scenery?”

“You will have cause to regret it, Mr. Donnington.”

“My dear madam, I have arrived at the matureage of twenty-seven, and probably twenty-six ofthem are full of regrets for lost chances. But there isa question of real seriousness I should like to put toyou,” I said very gravely.

“Well?”

“What is the name of the third, no the fourth bluff,to the north of the river mouth?”

She turned and bent those strange eyes of hers uponme with an intent stare. “You mean me to understandthat you regard everything I have said—mywarning, my questions, everything—as a mere jest.”

“I mean that, although I am by the way of being awilful person, I am not an ungrateful one; and thatif you would do me the honour one day of making upa little party to view that bluff from the deck of myyacht, it would give me great pleasure and I hopepromote that better understanding between us whichI should like to think you desire as much as I.”

“I accept willingly,” she replied with a smile;but even then she could not resist a thrust. Lookingat me out of the half-veiled corners of her eyes sheasked: “May I bring Major Sampayo?”

“By all means, and Dr. Barosa and any others ofyour colleagues—even the fair Miralda; and I willhave cosy corners specially fitted up for you all whereyou may talk politics or personalities as you prefer.”

Again her strange eyes fastened on mine, searchingly.[57]“What do you really mean by that?” she asked,with tense earnestness.

“Oh, please don’t let us get serious again, and readgrave meanings into mere trifling banalities,” Iexclaimed with a laugh. “I mean no more than thatI should try to give you all a good time and let youenjoy it in your own way.”

“If I am to enjoy it, Mr. Donnington, you mustask Miralda’s brother, Lieutenant de Linto.”

“My dear lady, I’ll ask the whole regiment if youwish it.”

“Here he comes, you can ask him now. I supposeyou know him?”

A young fellow in the uniform of a lieutenant hadentered the palm house and came hurrying towardus. I did not care for his looks. Tall and slight offigure, a foppish and affected manner, anæmic anddissipated in looks with a narrow, retreating forehead,no chin to speak of, and prominent eyes, in one ofwhich he had an eyeglass, I set him down as weak,unstable, shallow, and generally undesirable. But hewas Miralda’s half-brother and thus to me a personof consideration.

“I say, Inez, this is too bad. I’ve been huntingfor you everywhere and the dance is all but over.”

She beamed on him with one of her richest smiles.“I own my fault, Vasco, but I sent word to you byMiralda. I simply could not resist the opportunityof a chat with the distinguished Englishman every oneis talking about. Mr. Donnington, Lieutenant deLinto.”

I had risen and shook hands cordially, expressingmy pleasure at meeting him. “I fear that unwittinglyI have taken your place, lieutenant,” I added.“Pray pardon me.”

“Here’s my card, Vasco. Take two dances for theone we have missed.”

“That’s all right then,” he said, as he took her card[58]eagerly and scribbled his initials on it. “I think afterall I’m obliged to you, Mr. Donnington,” he addedwith a vacuous smile which he intended to be pleasant.

“Mr. Donnington has asked me to make up a littleyachting party one day, Vasco, and I was just mentioningyour name as you came up.”

“Oh, I say, but I’m a rare bad sailor,” he replieddoubtfully.

“We’ll choose a fine day then, Vasco. And ofcourse I couldn’t go without you.” She laid her handon his arm and glanced up into his face with a yearninglook which convinced him of her perfect sincerity andfetched a sigh out of him that told its own tale.

I excused myself promptly, and as I turned away hetook the chair by her side, feasting his big eyeson her beauty and letting his little senses surfeitthemselves in the glamour of her charms.

She had his scalp right enough. He was hers, body andsoul and honour. But why had she taken the trouble?She cared for him even less than I cared for her;and the night before I had seen her look at Barosawith the light which only one man can bring to awoman’s eyes. Only one at a time, anyway.

Why then should she fool this little insignificantcreature? Of course she had a purpose. She wasnot the woman to waste her time and her glances fornothing.

Was it those confounded politics again? Oneof the little wheels within the big one which was tohave its part to play when the whole machinery ofplot and conspiracy was set in motion.

Fools can be useful at times.

What part had this one to play?

It was nothing to me—and yet it might be much.He was Miralda’s brother; and nothing which concernedher could be indifferent to me.

AS I made my way through the crowded rooms withthe object of finding the viscontesse and makingsure of an invitation to her house, I saw Miralda andSampayo sitting together. They did not see me andI stood a moment watching them.

He appeared to be urging her to do something andhis eyes were insistent, compelling and passionate.There was no doubt that he felt for her all the animallove of which such a man is capable.

But there was no answering light in her eyes. Shewas passive, cold and indifferent; and the emotion hestirred was more like fear than anything.

Instinctively I hated the man and felt an unholyglow of gladness at the thought that at a word fromme any hold or influence he could have over her wouldsnap like a rotten twig.

My thoughts slipped back to that old time in SouthAfrica; and in place of the swaggering major of cavalry,with his breast covered with orders, I saw him as Ihad seen him there, a broken-down tatter-de-mallionmember of the hungry brigade at Koomarte Port;general sponge, reputed spy and acknowledged rascal,passing as a Frenchman under the name of JeanDufoire; one of the many scamps who infested theborder between the Transvaal and the PortugueseColony, ripe for any scoundrelism from theft to throat-slitting.

This was the story I knew about him. When old[60]Kruger was bundling off his private fortune to Europe,this Dufoire managed to get hold of some secret informationabout one of the consignments and joined withthree other men to steal it. They were successful.The two men in charge of it were found murdered;and the money, said to be nearly £50,000, was missing.

But that was not all. Not content with a share ofthe loot, Dufoire first picked a quarrel with one ofhis companions and shot him treacherously, and thencheated the other two of the greater part of the moneyand disappeared.

The facts came out when the two men were afterwardscaptured. One of them died; and just beforehis death confessed everything, in the hope that theBritish would take the matter up and secure Dufoire’spunishment. Many men were aware that I knewDufoire by sight; and when the war was over and Iwas leaving Capetown for home, the other scamp,a Corsican named Lucien Prelot, sought me out to getnews of him. He swore by all the saints in the calendarthat if he could ever find Dufoire he would drive aknife between his ribs. He begged me on his kneesto let him know if I ever met Dufoire again; and vowed,Corsican as he was, that he would go from one end ofthe world to the other in his quest for revenge.

Of course I would not have anything to do with suchan affair; but he managed in some way to ferret outmy address in England and wrote me two or threeletters urging the same request. And then one dayhe turned up in London to tell me that he had mademoney on the Rand, that he was in Europe searchingfor Dufoire, and that he could and would pay me anysum I chose to ask if I would tell him where to find hisenemy.

That was about a year before my father’s death;and every month had brought me a letter from him,in the hope that I could send news. These letterswere addressed from various parts of Europe where[61]he was pursuing his search, with the deadly intensityof his unslaked and unslakable thirst for revenge.

And while Prelot was hunting for a Frenchmanof the name of Jean Dufoire, the scoundrel himselfhad been strutting it in the Portuguese capital asFrancisco Sampayo, major of cavalry. He hadpurchased his position, of course, with the fortune hehad acquired by robbery, bloodshed and treachery;and had found some means to use it to obtain thepromise of Miralda’s hand in marriage.

That some underhand means had been employed toforce her consent I was certain; as certain as that Icould scare the brute out of the country with half adozen words. But before I spoke them I felt that Imust learn more of the facts.

“Good evening, Mr. Donnington,” The voicebroke in upon my reverie, and I turned to find Dr.Barosa at my elbow.

“Ah, good evening, Dr. Barosa,” I replied, as weshook hands.

“You were looking very thoughtful, sir; I am afraidI disturbed you.”

“I have reason to be thoughtful, doctor. I am morethan a little perplexed by the position in which I findmyself.”

“I shall be delighted to be of any service, if I can.Would you care for a chat here, or may I do myselfthe pleasure of calling upon you at your rooms?”

“Both, by all means. I should like a word or twowith you, and the sooner the better; but I shall alsobe glad to see you at my rooms at any time.”

He thanked me and led the way to a spot where wecould talk privately.

“I’ll go straight to the point, doctor: that is ourEnglish way. I have had a conversation with ContesseInglesia this evening, and I wish to disabuse yourmind thoroughly of any thought that I am a spy.”

“My dear sir, I do not think it.”

[62]“I don’t wish you only to think it, I want you toknow. You’ll appreciate the difference. I am readyto give you any proofs you can suggest, to answerany questions you like to put, and to back every wordI say with facts. I am tremendously in earnest aboutthis. And when you have thoroughly convincedyourself, I wish you to convince any one and everyone associated with you, who may be inclined to suspectme.”

“Your reasons, Mr. Donnington?”

“Must surely be obvious. Last night’s businessshowed me the length to which some of your morereckless friends are prepared to carry mistakes of thekind; and I desire to be able to walk the streets ofthe city without expecting to be shot or knifed at thenext corner.”

“I do not doubt you, and certainly do not presumeto ask for any facts; but if you would prefer to makeany statement, I am of course ready to listen.”

I replied to that by giving him a fairly full accountof myself, and then added: “Of course I am awarethat my statement, unsupported by evidence, couldeasily be made up by any one who was here as a spy.I suggest, therefore, that you shall get evidence of myidentity. The best and simplest thing I can suggest atthe moment is that I give you the addresses of variousfirms who have photographed me from time to time,and that you send your agents to them to get photographsof Ralph Donnington which they have taken.You can then send some one to my place at Tapworthfor the photographs to be identified; you can havethem shown also to my bankers in London; and toany one of a dozen people who know all about me.”

“I accept your word, I assure you,” he said, with awave of the hand.

“But that is just what I do not wish you to do.You must be in a position to say you know, and totable the evidence;” and with that I wrote down the[63]names and addresses and insisted upon his takingthem.

“As the matter is naturally pressing you will ofcourse use the telegraph, and if money will expediteyour inquiries I will very gladly pay any sum that isnecessary. I am, fortunately for myself, a man ofconsiderable means, and not likely to spare money toput an end to this intolerable suspicion.”

“You have invited me to question you. There isone point. You are a friend of M. Volheno?”

“That gentleman, as I have told you, was broughtto our place, Tapworth Hall, by my sister’s husband,M. Stefan Madrillo, some years ago, and when I cameover here about these concessions, Madrillo advisedme to see him. Only in that degree is he a friend ofmine.”

“These concessions have been spoken about, Mr.Donnington, with unusual freedom.”

“That is not my doing. M. Volheno gave a somewhatlurid account of them to the Marquis de Pinsara,as a man likely to be able to help in the matter; andthe latter appears to have told all his acquaintances.I shall not be in the least surprised to find the matter inthe papers in the morning. Of course it is veryridiculous and calculated to frustrate my object entirely.But it is not my doing, I assure you.”

“Yet M. Volheno might have an object?”

“You mean to use them to conceal some otherpurpose for my visit?”

“And you give me your word that you have noother purpose except to obtain these concessions?”

“Contesse Inglesia put much the same question, andI will answer it as I answered her. I pledge my wordthat I have no sort or kind of interest in the politicalaffairs of your country otherwise than as they may beincidentally connected with these concessions.”

“Is that an entirely frank answer, Mr. Donnington?”

“Any suspicion underlying that remark I have[64]already given you the means of dissipating. I declareto you, on my honour as an English gentleman, that Ihave none but absolutely private and personal reasonsfor coming to Lisbon.”

“You have discussed political matters with M.Volheno?”

“Certainly not in any detail. He told me the citywas in a condition of unrest, and that there were allsorts of more or less dangerous combinations againstthe Government. But this was merely as a reasonfor the warning he gave me against being in the streetsalone after dark.”

“You did not heed that warning?”

“No. I was disposed to smile at it. But I learntmy lesson last night, and shall profit by it in the future.”

Barosa sat a few moments thinking. “I willhave these inquiries made, Mr. Donnington,” he saidthen; “but I have no doubt whatever of the result.I will make it my personal affair to see that you haveno trouble. In point of fact we already have proofthat you are what you say. Mademoiselle Dominguezand her mother met you in Paris last spring, and theyof course know you to be Mr. Donnington.”

Why did he want to drag Miralda into the matter?

“I have intentionally kept her name out of our conversation,Dr. Barosa,” I answered with a smile, “andI still wish you to make your own investigations.”

“The Contesse Inglesia is disposed to think thatyour meeting with Mademoiselle Dominguez is connectedwith your presence here now.”

“The contesse is a very charming and delightfulwoman, doctor, and being a woman is likely to jumpto conclusions.”

“You will understand, of course, that any suchpurpose would concern us. She is a friend of ourcause, and betrothed to a man to whom we are undergreat obligations, Major Sampayo.”

“I will ask you, if you please, not to give me any[65]information about either your friends or your objects.For the rest, I shall be glad to know when you havesatisfied yourself about me; and afterwards, if youwish, to see you at any time as a friend. But no politics,mind.”

He took this as a hint that the subject should bedropped, and he switched off to a topic I was alwaysready to talk about, yachting and yachts in general,and my own boat in particular. He was a keenyachtsman, and when I suggested that he should findtime to have a run on the Stella, he accepted theinvitation quite eagerly.

As a matter of fact, I rather liked him. He hadtreated me quite candidly; and I was convinced hewas satisfied that, whatever might be my real objectin coming to the city, it had no connexion with thepolitical situation. His politics were no concern ofmine. I was absolutely indifferent whether the Kingof Portugal was Dom Carlos or Dom Miguel; and itwas no part of my duty to tell Volheno or any one elsethat this keen-eyed smooth-voiced, doctor, who wasaccepted as a loyalist in this most loyalist of gatherings,was in reality a secret agent of the Pretender endeavouringto exploit this National League in the interests ofhis master.

The only point where the thing threatened to affectme was in regard to Sampayo. Barosa had admittedthat they were under great obligations to him, and Iread this to mean that some of old Oom Paul’s moneywas finding its way into the coffers of the cause.

If, in return for the money, Sampayo had stipulatedfor the support of Barosa and the rest in regard toMiralda, there might be trouble. But I was so confidentof being able to bring that scoundrel to hisknees that I could view even such an alliance withoutconcern.

What I had to do first was to get at Miralda’s ownfeelings and the reasons behind her engagement,[66]and for that I must do my best to secure her motheras an ally.

The viscontesse greeted me with a smile and a shakeof the head. “You’ve neglected me shamefully, Mr.Donnington. Here’s nearly the whole evening goneand we’ve scarcely had a word together.”

“I hope we shall have many opportunities. I assureyou I have not had a minute to myself the wholeevening, and after all a place like this is not the bestin the world for a real friendly talk.”

“When can you spare time to come and see us?”

“May I come?”

“May you come, indeed? Why of course younot only may, but must. Now when?”

“Shall you be at home to-morrow?”

“I’m always at home. Come in the afternoon.I’ve such a lot to tell you. I suppose you’ve heardabout Miralda and Major Sampayo. I was just goingto tell you about it this evening when that wretchedold marquis carried you away.”

“You mean your daughter’s engagement? Yes.She herself told me of it.”

“Do you think him a handsome man? They callhim one of the handsomest men in the army. Andhe’s very rich, too. There were heaps of women settingtheir caps at him.”

“A man who is both rich and handsome is generallylabelled desirable. At least in London and presumablyin Lisbon also.”

“You will find that out before you have been herelong. Do you think our girls pretty?”

“Some of them are much more than pretty,” Iagreed.

“Would you like an introduction to any of them?I’ll do it for you in a moment.”

“I am too pleased to be where I am to wish anythingof the kind.”

“Ah, you always knew how to say nice things,[67]Mr. Donnington. I often think of that time in Paris,and sometimes I—do you know what I used to think?”

“If I was the subject of your thoughts I trust theywere pleasant ones.”

“You know an old woman—I call myself old, butI’m offended in an instant if any one else does—anold woman, especially the mother of a pretty girl—youthink Miralda pretty, don’t you?”

“By far the prettiest in the rooms to-night.”

“Well, a mother gets into the way of thinking thatwhen a young man pays her attention, it’s vicarious,you know. A woman’s never too old to relish attentions,of course, but I suppose you know that. Butin Paris I had my suspicions.”

“Of whom, viscontesse?”

“Of you, Mr. Donnington. Perhaps I should saythey were rather hopes than suspicions. You werea great favourite of mine, I’ll admit that. At thesame time, I wasn’t quite sure that some of the nicethings you said and did were solely on my account.But that’s all over now, of course—over and donewith;” and she smiled and fanned herself slowly,looking at me askance through half-closed lids, as ifto watch the effect of her words.

Was she warning or reproaching me? Or both?What answer did she expect? “I trust nothing hasoccurred in the interval to cause me to forfeit your goodopinion, madame.”

The fan stopped a moment, as if she detected thedouble meaning of my words. “Four months is along time to take to travel a thousand miles or so. Ihad hoped to see you in Lisbon.”

“I think you know that I was called from Parissuddenly by my father’s illness. He lay for manyweeks between life and death, and it was absolutelyimpossible for me to leave him even for a day. Ihave come here at the first possible moment.”

The fan stopped again, abruptly this time, and she[68]lowered it slowly until it rested upon her lap; herlook was very serious and her eyes full of concern.

“It is only these—these concessions which havebrought you here now, Mr. Donnington?” she repliedafter a pause, her tone and look suggesting some degreeof nervous doubt of what my reply would be.

I returned her look and framed my answer carefully.“I have been very careful to let every one know that—everyone else.”

She bit her lips and frowned, the concern in hereyes deepened, and with a half-suppressed sigh sheturned away and began to fan herself slowlyagain. I think she understood my meaning, butbefore she could reply Miralda came up on MajorSampayo’s arm. As she saw them approaching, theviscontesse started and glanced quickly and nervouslyat me with a look I could not read.

I rose to give my seat to Miralda, and her mothersent Sampayo to find the visconte as she wished togo home. Then she burst into one of her garrulousspeeches and did not cease speaking until Sampayoreturned with the visconte, when she hurried bothhusband and Miralda away on the plea of an overpoweringheadache. And Sampayo went with them.

I was both perplexed and excited as the result ofthat short conversation. It was possible to read somuch both in her words and in her manner; and I waspuzzling over her real meaning when Sampayo re-enteredthe room, glanced round hurriedly, and thencame straight across to me.

By the heavy frown in which his brows were drawntogether, his air of decision, and the expression ofhis eyes when he saw me, I guessed that he had atlast succeeded in remembering me and had decidedto lose no time in finding out what I knew about him.

I had been watching him without looking up, andwhen I did so, his look changed and he forced a smile:a very poor effort to appear at ease.

[69]“You know I was puzzling where we could havemet, Mr. Donnington. I have settled it at last. Itwas in South Africa, and I wish to have a word or twowith you.”

ALTHOUGH Sampayo had obviously made uphis mind to ascertain at once whether I knewanything about those black doings of his in SouthAfrica, I had not the slightest intention of satisfyinghim.

There were many things I had to clear up before Idealt with him; and, as matters stood, it suited memuch better that Miralda should be betrothed tohim than to any one else.

Sampayo was a big brute, much bigger than I, andhad once possessed great strength; but during hisyears of comfort and wealth, fat had taken the placeof a good deal of his muscle. He had, however, retainedthe air of bullying masterfulness and he nowtried to bully me.

“You have not been frank with me, Mr. Donnington,”he said as he sat down. “I don’t suppose youwished purposely to mislead me, but you did so infact. You said that after the relief of Mafeking youdid not see any more of the war.”

“No, no, pardon me. I said I was sent downcountry.”

“Well, that’s much the same thing, sir; whereas,from what you have told Mademoiselle Dominguezit is clear that you went up country again and werethere at the end of things. You meant me to inferthe opposite, and I must ask you for your reasons.”

At his hectoring tone I turned and looked him full[71]in the eyes, and then turned away again with a shrugof the shoulders, giving him no other reply.

“You heard me, Mr. Donnington.”

I took out my watch, glanced at the time, and replacedit in my pocket very deliberately, and yawned.

“I have asked you a question, sir, and I mean tohave an answer.”

I paused and looked at him again more deliberatelythan before. “Is it possible that you are addressingme?”

“Certainly I am addressing you,” he said with anangry twist of the head.

“Then be good enough to drop that barrack-yardtone, or say at once that you wish to force a quarrelupon me.”

I knew he was an arrant coward; and this was notat all to his liking. After a slight pause he said in avery different manner: “I may have spoken abruptly,but I think I am entitled to an explanation.”

“Of what?” I rapped out very sharply.

“Whether you intentionally misled me as to yourmovements in South Africa?”

“What on earth can it matter to you or any oneelse except myself where I went and where I did notgo in South Africa?”

“Do you say you did not meet me out there?”

“Why should I say whether I did or did not? Andwhy should you be so anxious about it?”

“I am not anxious about it at all. No more sothan yourself. But if you did meet me and now denyit, I have a right to ask your reasons.”

“I met hundreds of men, of course—thousandsindeed—and equally of course you may have beenone of them.”

“That is not meant as an evasion, I hope,” he exclaimed,losing his temper again.

“Major Sampayo!” I cried indignantly.

He gave a twirl to his moustaches and it looked as[72]if he were going to quarrel in earnest. But he thoughtbetter of it. “I meant no offence, Mr. Donnington,”he muttered.

“Then I will take none.”

“But you will remember your remark that younever forget a face.”

“I did not mean that I could identify at sight everyman I met in the campaign both on our side and amongthe Boers. Of course there would have to be somethingin the circ*mstances of the meeting which would serveas a connecting link.”

“And you do not remember me then?” he persisted.

It was awkward to answer this without a directlie, so I turned and had another steady look at himfor perhaps half a minute and then shook my head.“Can you suggest anything likely to recall your featuresto me?”

His eyes shifted uneasily under my scrutiny, andhe vented a little sigh of relief as he replied: “Ofcourse I cannot.”

“We both appear to be in the same difficulty, then.Now that I look fixedly at your features, there issomething about them that I seem to know; but verylikely it is only due to the fact that I have seen youtwo or three times to-night. Sampayo. Sampayo,”I repeated, as if trying to recall the name, and thenshook my head again as if giving the matter up. “Isuppose we must take it that we have not met,” I said.

“I can understand that,” I said with a smile.

“You will excuse my curiosity, I trust, Mr. Donnington.It may have seemed somewhat exaggerated toyou perhaps, but I am always anxious to meet anyone who was out there when I was.”

“I can understand that,” I said, with a smile.

All the former uneasy suspicion leapt to life againin his eyes. “Why?” he asked, quickly and eagerly.

“It is just the same with me,” I answered lightly.“It suggests a sort of comradeship, you know, chattingover the old experiences.”

[73]“Certainly, certainly,” he agreed.

“I shall be glad to have an opportunity of exchangingexperiences with you some day. Only we mustn’tbegin, as we did just now, by firing broadsides at oneanother.”

“No, no, of course not. I am quite ashamed of myheat.”

“That’s all right, major. On which side were youin the war? Of course we’ve all buried the hatchetlong ago.”

“I was not a combatant, Mr. Donnington. I wasmaking money and was very successful, I am glad tosay.” As I knew how he had made it, his boastfulself-complacent tone was amusing. “I rejoined thearmy here on my return. And now there is anothertopic on which I should like to say just a word or two.You met Mademoiselle Dominguez last spring in Paris,I believe.”

“Yes. She was there with her mother.”

“You are aware that she has done me the honourto promise to be my wife?”

“Oh yes. She herself told me. But——”

He interrupted with a wave of the hand. “Onemoment. It has been suggested to me to-night thatyour present visit is in some respects a result of thatmeeting?”

I smiled. “Considering that I have been only twodays in the city there appears to be a tremendousamount of interest in my movements and actions.”

“You have proposed that we should see somethingof each other in a friendly way, Mr. Donnington, andI should be glad of your assurance that there is notruth in the suggestion?”

“Really, really!” I protested laughing again.

“Pardon my frankness, but I wish to know wherewe stand.”

“You are not serious, of course?”

“Indeed I am. And I must press the point.”

[74]“Well, really, I can’t take such a thing seriously atall, Major Sampayo. You are naturally at libertyto entertain any ideas you wish as to my presence inLisbon. But I am greatly astonished that you shouldhave even broached such a subject.”

“I have a right to put the question to you, I think.”

“Well, I disagree with you, and absolutely declineto discuss it. You must have seen very little of theEnglish in South Africa if your experiences have ledyou to believe that it is our custom to exchangeconfidences with a stranger. Possibly after you and Ihave had our proposed chat over our mutual experiencesout there and get to know one another better, we mayresume the subject. But not until then, if you please.And now, I must bid you good-night.”

He looked very angry and malicious; but I did notcare for that. I was rather pleased than otherwisethat Miralda should have spoken of me to him in sucha way as to rouse his jealousy.

Sleep was almost out of the question for me thatnight. I was in a positive fever of unrest.

Did Miralda care for me? If so, why had she promisedto marry Sampayo?

Over and over again I recalled every word that hadpassed between us that evening, and every glance shehad given me. The first look at the moment of meetinghad been one of surprise, but I had read no otherfeeling into it.

She had, however, been genuinely indignant whenshe heard that only business had brought me. Andshe had every right. I had carried matters far enoughin Paris to warrant her in believing I cared for her. Ihad done everything I could to make my feelings plain.Then I had gone without a word, had remainedaway four months, and had now arrived “on business.”It was only human nature that she should resent suchtreatment.

Unexplained, my conduct was that of a cad and a[75]coxcomb. She might well believe that in Paris Ihad spoken without meaning, had been amusing myselfwith a flirtation, and had forgotten her as soonas I had shaken the dust of the city off my feet. Tofollow to Lisbon on such an errand as the viscontehad described and I had acquiesced in, was nothingshort of a brutal insult to her.

But while her resentment was white-hot, I had madeher see the truth. Her eyes had told me that sheunderstood. And the explanation had shifted theaxis of all her thoughts. I had come solely on heraccount, hurrying to her at the first moment I was atliberty to speak the words which had been impossiblein Paris, and—she had pledged herself to another man.

If she cared for me—always that if—she wouldfind herself playing the part she believed I had played.The charge of inconstancy was transferred from myshoulders to hers. And she had to face the task oftelling me the truth. Her sudden agitation was intelligibleenough. And she had undoubtedly been verydeeply moved. That thought was as balm in Gileadto me.

I thought long and carefully over her manner atthat point. She had thrown off her agitation withan effort and passed at once to the opposite extremeof indifference; she had plunged into a discussion ofconventional trivialities of no interest to either of us,and had deftly fended off my attempts to refer toour former relations until she herself had mentionedthem in a way that implied they were past and buried.And she had followed this with the news of the engagement.

The object might have been to spare us both fromembarrassment. But I read more in it. That sheshould try to spare me pain was as natural as is thelight when the sun shines. But she had not spared me.She would know that to refer to it in the light toneshe had used would add to the shock; and there had[76]not been a word of preparation and not one ofregret.

Why?

I thought I could see the reason. She wished meto believe her heartless and unfeeling. She had regrettedher involuntary agitation on learning the truth,lest I should believe she really cared. She had thenacted designedly and with the set purpose of makingme believe she had entirely forgotten the Paris episodes,could speak of them with complete indifference, andwas happy in her engagement.

Again, why?

And again I thought I could see her reason. Shefelt there were circ*mstances behind her betrothalto Sampayo which shut out the possibility of its beingbroken and she wished to drive home that convictionupon me. She could not tell me what the facts andinfluences were which had decided her; so she deliberatelyblackened herself in my eyes, posing as a jiltwho had first encouraged me to hope and had thenthrown me over with a laugh and a careless toss of thehead.

But I knew her too well to accept any such self-caricatureas a true portrait, even without the helpof all I had heard from Inez, from Barosa, and from theviscontesse.

Was it too late now to win? It might be; but itcertainly was not too late to make a big effort. Andsuch an effort I would make at once. If she had compromisedherself in this wretched conspiracy businessso far as to be under the thumb of Barosa and hisassociates, her very safety demanded that I should strivewith might and main to break the power they heldover her and set her free from it.

But my fear was that some other compelling influencewas at work; and I looked to find it in her home.It was not the viscontesse, I was certain of her;but I knew very little yet of the visconte and nothing[77]at all of the brother, Vasco, except that he was infatuatedwith Inez and was being properly fooled by her.I made my promised visit to the viscontesse onthe following afternoon hoping to be able to resume thethread of the conversation at the reception. But noopportunity offered. She had some friends and I couldnot get a word with her alone; and Miralda did notcome in until just as I was leaving.

But I learnt something from the conversation. Itconcerned mainly the personal side of the politicalsituation. Every one had a grievance against M.Franco, the Dictator. In his zeal for economy hehad swept away a host of sinecure positions aboutthe Court; and had thus made enemies not only ofevery one who had been paid for doing nothing andtheir friends and relatives, but also of all who had beenlooking forward to such payments.

The visconte himself had held one of the best ofthese sinecures. He had been the royal cork-draweror napkin ring-holder-in-chief, or something equallyimportant, and the loss of the salary had been hotlyresented.

It sounded intensely ridiculous; but the viscontesseherself was full of indignation; and her friends allagreed and joined in abusing the Government witha violence which, although entirely laughable, provedhow widespread was the discontent among those whohad been staunch in their loyalty.

It was on this feeling among the higher classes thatBarosa was working on behalf of the Pretender, DomMiguel.

Just as I was leaving, the viscontesse found amoment to tell me she wished to have had more opportunityof talking to me, so I promptly asked her tocome to luncheon on the Stella the next day, and shewas hesitating when Miralda came in. We werestanding near the door and she joined us. Shegreeted me with just the same air of detached friendliness[78]she had shown on the previous evening; butwhen her mother spoke of my invitation, she surprisedme.

“It will be delightful, and I should like it above allthings—that is if the invitation is to include me, Mr.Donnington?”

“Why, of course.”

“And can we have a little run out to sea? I lovethe sea you know.”

“It shall be exactly as you wish,” I replied, andhaving arranged that the launch was to be ready forthem at noon, I went off delighted at the prospect ofhaving Miralda and her mother to myself, for somehours.

THE next morning was gloriously fine, and I was onthe Stella in good time to see that all was in readiness.Old Bolton, my skipper, muttered somethingabout the wind shifting and that we should probablyhave a change in the weather, but for once I didn’tbelieve him, and just before noon I jumped into thelaunch and went off in high spirits to fetch Miraldaand her mother.

Then came a decidedly disagreeable surprise.

As I stepped on to the quay, Inez was waiting forme, her servant standing by with wraps. With oneof her most radiant smiles she gave me her hand andreminded me that I had invited her to see the yacht.“So when I heard Miralda and the viscontesse weregoing to-day, I thought this would be just a chance ofchances.”

“Of course, delighted,” I replied very cordially.I couldn’t very well tell her she wasn’t wanted; soI buttoned up my chagrin and made the bestof it. “We’re going to have a little run out tosea.”

“You’re quite sure I shall not upset your plans?”she asked, knowing quite well that that was preciselywhat she was doing.

“My dear lady, what plans do you think I havethat could be spoilt? There’s heaps of room on theStella for us all.”

“I mean with regard to Miralda, Mr. Donnington,”[80]she said, dropping her light tone and fixing those queereyes of hers on me.

“I hope to give both the viscontesse and herdaughter a pleasant day’s outing. You don’t considerthat a very deadly plan, I hope.”

“You may remember my warning?”

“I try to make it a rule to remember only thepleasant things which are said to me by beautifulladies, contesse.”

“You mean you refuse to be warned?”

“Against what?”

“Ah, you pretend you do not know,” she retortedimpatiently.

“I don’t think you quite grasp the position. I amin Lisbon on business which will detain me some littletime. Meanwhile, I am fortunate in having met someold friends and made some new ones, and I am delightedto have an opportunity of welcoming them on myyacht. That is how matters stand. And any warningagainst doing that, however well meant and by whomsoevergiven, is really as little needed as if you or Iwere to go to the Stella’s captain and warn him againsthidden reefs out there on the open sea.”

“It is against a hidden reef in an apparently opensea that I am warning you.”

“Well, Captain Bolton is a splendid seaman andknows his charts, but a man of very few words, andhe would—just smile.”

“You may smile if you will; but do you think Ishould have forced myself upon you in this way withoutreason?”

“The man is fortunate indeed upon whom suchpleasure is thus thrust.”

“You cover your meaning with a jest—but I am toomuch in earnest. I wish to be your friend. Youmust not seek to interfere with Miralda’s marriage.”

“Your pardon, but we are really getting too personal.Let me suggest that we wait to discuss that lady until[81]she is present. Ah, here they are,” I exclaimed, catchingsight of them. And then I had a little thrust atInez. “And you are fortunate, too. Lieutenant deLinto is with them.”

I knew how he must bore her; and she did not succeedin disguising her chagrin. She had admitted that shehad come as a sort of watchdog; and the punishmentfitted the crime so aptly that I grinned. Nor was thatto be her only punishment, as matters turned out.The skipper proved a true weather prophet, and Inez wasa desperately bad sailor.

She played her watchdog part cleverly; but it wasentirely superfluous. All the delightful anticipationsI had indulged in were killed by Miralda herself, whoseconduct perplexed me far more than on the previousnight.

Almost from the moment her dainty foot touchedthe Stella’s deck, she acted in a manner I could nothave deemed possible. She was very bright and laughedand talked as if there were no such thing in the worldas care and trouble. She treated me as if I were a mereacquaintance whom she was just pleased to meetagain. Nothing more.

But it was not that which so pained me. She spokefreely of her visit to Paris, referring now to her motherand again to me in regard to little episodes of the timethere, and doing it all without a suggestion of restraint.Then in a hard tone and with jarring half-boastfullaughter, she began to jest about her conquests. Shenamed several men, who, as I knew, had admired her;mimicked their ways, ridiculed their attentions, andfreely admitted that she had flirted with them, because“one must amuse oneself.”

If any man had told me that she was capable of suchconduct I think I should have knocked him down.But I heard it all myself. I could scarcely believemy own eyes and ears. The last belief in the back ofmy mind was that she could be the callous, heartless[82]coquette she was showing herself, luring men to her byher beauty only to laugh at them for believing in her,and descending to the depths of talking about it toothers in a vein of self-glorification.

The luncheon gong interrupted but did not checkher, and as I sat listening in silence she appealedto me more than once to confirm some little ridiculoustrait of some one or other of the men she had “scalped.”

Inez saw and rejoiced at my discomfiture, but retributionwas at hand for her. When we sat down toluncheon the sea was as smooth as the table-cloth,but when we reached the deck again the weather hadchanged and a heavy bank of clouds to the souththreatened a capful of wind. And even this servedto show Miralda in a new light.

She heard me tell the skipper to return. “Is itgoing to be rough? I hope so. I love a rough sea.Don’t go back yet.”

Inez and Vasco protested vigorously.

Miralda looked at them both and shrugged her shoulders,and then turned to me. “I don’t see why weshould spoil our pleasure for them, do you?” she askedwith a laugh that was half a sneer.

“I am sorry to cut your pleasure short, but I thinkwe had better return,” I replied.

“People look so silly when they are ill;” and with anunpleasant laugh she crossed to the side.

When the wind came and the Stella began to roll,Inez hurried away, followed directly by Vasco.

The viscontesse had been very quiet all the time, andalthough the motion of the yacht did not appear toupset her, she said she would rather lie down andasked Miralda to go with her.

“Don’t be unreasonable, mother,” was the reply.“I am enjoying every moment of it. You don’t wantto shut me up in a stuffy cabin. But take my hat withyou, and bring me a wrap of some sort, and mycloak.”

[83]The unfeeling words and the tone in which they wereuttered, stung me like the knots of a whip lash. I gavemy arm to the viscontesse and took her below andinstalled her comfortably on a sofa in the saloon.

“Miralda loves a rough sea, Mr. Donnington,” shesaid, as she pointed to the wraps for me to take on deck.“Don’t stay with me; I am going to take an old woman’sprivilege and have a nap.”

I took the things in silence and returned to Miralda.

She stood by the bulwarks her eyes intent on thetroubled waters; a stray lock or two of her hair hadbeen freed by the breeze, and her face was radiant withdelight. She revelled in the scene. A veritableincarnation of vigorous youth and bewitching beauty.

She turned as I reached her side. “Isn’t it glorious,Mr. Donnington? I suppose I may stay on deck? Ishan’t be in the way?”

“The whole yacht is yours to be where you will, ofcourse,” I replied.

“You always say such pleasant things. I rememberthat knack of yours. Help me on with this cloak,”she added with a coquettish glance. “There, how doI look?” she asked when she had adjusted the wrap,gracefully, as all her acts were. “And now you mustfind me a corner where I shan’t be quite blown away,”she commanded.

I found her a corner and installed her.

“We shall want two chairs, of course, and then wecan have a long chat like we used to in Paris.”

I had had quite enough of Paris already, if shemeant to continue to talk in her former strain. But Ifetched another chair and sat down.

Then she laughed suddenly and almost boisterously.“Do you know I really believe my mother wanted meto go and stop with her? She can be a terrible nuisance.Imagine me pinned up there. Sympathize with me.”

“The viscontesse told me she hoped to get to sleep,”I replied.

[84]“Then wasn’t it selfish of her? As if I was going tomiss this beautiful sea just because she feels bad andhas a headache. Absolutely preposterous, wasn’tit?” and she laughed again.

I looked round at her and made no reply.

She returned the look as if surprised at my silence.Then her eyes lighted and her lips parted. “Oh, Iremember now, of course. It was you who always puton that mournful look—funereally gloomy—when I usedto do things which shocked your English propriety. Iwas thinking it was that Graf von Holstein—that long-facedGerman who would insist upon giving meflowers I did not want and then expected me to dancewith him in return.”

I had given her flowers and asked her to dance whenshe wore them.

“Very unreasonable, mademoiselle,” I said after apause.

“Oh, men are always like that. They all seemto think that because a girl amuses herself and dancesonce or twice with them, they have made a conquest.”

“A man is of course unreasonable to believe in awoman.”

“What a delightfully cynical platitude. Isn’t thesea getting up quickly? Poor mother! I am afraidyou won’t tempt her on the yacht again.” Again shelaughed, and added: “And that’s a nuisance, forI love the sea.”

I turned unexpectedly and caught a look in her eyesas they were bent on me, which she had not meantme to see. And then I thought I understood.

“I thought that was it,” I said quietly. I myselfcould smile now.

“What was what, Mr. Donnington?” she asked asa sort of challenge; adding, with an attempt to resumeher former expression of reckless frivolity: “that soundslike a conundrum, doesn’t it? And they are suchstupid things.”

[85]“I believe I have the answer to the bigger conundrum.”

“There’s the grave Englishman again,” she jested,with a toss of the head.

“Yes. ‘Miralda’s Englishman,’” I answered, holdingher eyes with mine and speaking slowly and deliberately.

It was great daring, but I felt that I must stripaway this mask of heartless raillery which galled andpained me beyond endurance. I would know thetruth at any cost. If this coquette of flouts and jibeswho laughed at men with one breath and made light ofeven her mother’s sufferings with the next, was thereal woman whom I had set in the inmost shrine of myheart, the sooner I was away the better.

The mask fell, but not at once.

She met my gaze steadily, almost defiantly, and theblood rushed to her face as she read my look andstrove to force a laugh and utter a jest in reply. Butthe words would not come.

“You understand me,” I said, in the same deliberatetone. “You are either the most heartless jilt who evertrifled with the best feelings of men in order to be ableto boast of your triumphs afterwards, or you aredeliberately playing the part for some purpose of your own.God forbid that I should accept your self-accusation.”

“I will go——” she began and half rose. But thereaction came then. The crimson faded from her face,leaving it white and strained. She hid it behind herhands as she sank back in the chair, her head lowered,trembling in agitation.

I was answered and without a word I rose and lefther that she might be alone while she recovered herself-command.

With a rare feeling of exultation I renewed all thathad passed in the light of my new knowledge. Shehad set herself purposely to disgust me with the gibberingcaricature she had drawn of herself. And my[86]heart thrilled and my blood raced through my veinsas I saw that my reading of her conduct on the eveningof the reception had been right.

Many minutes passed as I paced the deck decidingthe course I would take, and not until I had settled itdid I return to her.

She had regained her self-possession, but as I satdown she looked at me questioningly and nervouslyas if fearing how I should refer to the secret I had surprised.But there was not a vestige of the mask left.She was just herself.

“The wind is dropping again already,” I said in acasual tone.

Her eyes thanked me, but she made no reply andsank back in her chair with an air of relief. I uttereda few commonplaces about the weather and the yacht,worked round to the subject of Lisbon and then to thatof my supposed purpose in the city. For once theconcessions were of use, as they enabled me to describemy own acts and intentions in regard to her as if Iwere referring to the concessions.

“Of course I shall find difficulties—indeed the wholeposition is entirely different from my anticipations. Iought to have been here earlier. But it was impossible.After my father’s stroke of paralysis which took me at amoment’s notice from Paris, he lay between life anddeath for three months; and although I was as anxiousthen as now about these concessions and should havecome at once to Lisbon, I could not leave him for anypurpose, however vital and important to me.”

“No, of course not,” she murmured, not raising hereyes from the deck.

“But now that I am here, of course I shall not abandonmy efforts to obtain them until they are actually in thepossession of some one else. I have heard that theyare promised, but I shall not regard that as an actualbarrier.”

She moved slightly and answered in a voice firm but[87]low: “From what I have heard you will only bewasting time and effort, Mr. Donnington. You willnot be allowed to—to obtain them.”

“You think the unsettled condition of political mattershere, the cabals and intrigues and so on, will interferewith me?”

“I am sure of it,” she said very deliberately.

“You mean there are obstacles of which I knownothing. As for those I do know, I care nothing forthem.”

“It depends upon what you do know.” Every wordwas uttered in a low tense monotone, full charged withsuppressed feeling.

“I know, as I say, that they are promised to someone else, but that doesn’t count with me. I knowtoo that they are involved in the secret plans of someof those whose political objects are opposed to theprofessed objects of some leaders of the League of Portugal.But that also I will not regard as an insuperable barrier.”

“Is that all you know?”

“Yes.”

“It has not occurred to you that private influencesmay be at work which those who might wish to helpyou are powerless to resist, and which make your questabsolutely unattainable and impossible?”

“I admit I have had fears of that, but I shall notbelieve it impossible until I know what those influencesare.”

“I have told you that I know it to be impossible, Mr.Donnington.”

“Will you tell me more—what these private influencesare?”

“I cannot without speaking of things that must besecret; without revealing a story of shame and crime.”

“Why should I sacrifice an object which is more tome than any I have ever desired because another personhas done wrong?”

“You must not even seek to discover it.”

[88]“On the contrary, I will know it within the next fewhours.”

“If you knew it, you would recognize the truth ofwhat I have said. But if you will take advice, youwill use those next few hours to be many leagues onyour way to England.”

“I will go when I said—when the concessions areactually in the possession of those who seek them.Not one hour, not one minute before.”

She was silent for a while and then for the first timesince I had rejoined her she sat forward and lookedat me. “Once in those days when we met in Paris,you said you would do anything I asked you? Doesthat promise hold good now?”

“Yes.”

“Then I wish you to leave Lisbon at once.”

I shook my head. “No, anything but that.”

“I was afraid,” she murmured, and leant back inher seat, with a sigh of despair; and we both remainedsilent.

Some time later the skipper’s voice roused me. “Weshall drop anchor in about quarter of an hour, Mr.Donnington,” he said as he passed.

Miralda rose with a sigh, started to leave me andthen returned.

“There is one thing you spoke of which I mustmake clear. I am no revolutionary, as you hinted, but Iam not free. I have been compromised against my willand I cannot break the bonds. But don’t think me arebel, because you see me associated with those who are.”

And without waiting for any reply, she turned andhurried away.

When the anchor was dropped and the launch waitingto take us all on shore, she came up with the viscontesseand was again wearing a mask. But a different onenow. She laughed and chatted brightly, but withoutthe hardness or bitterness of the earlier time.

I was once more the stranger. I gathered that the[89]mask was now worn to mislead Inez, for when we shookhands, although her words of thanks were just thoseof common courtesy, there was an expression in theeyes and a simultaneous pressure of the fingers eloquentof the altered relations between us.

Wishing to be entirely alone I returned to the Stellaand remained there thinking and speculating andplanning.

I did not reach my rooms until late and found aletter awaiting me which made me rub my eyes inastonishment.

It was from Volheno, thanking me for some informationI had given him and saying that it had been actedupon the previous night with excellent results. “Itwill of course be considered by the Government whenwe come to decide the matter of the Beira concessions;and I need scarcely say that if you can give us any moreinformation of the same kind, you will render theGovernment a great service.”

I had given no information and would see him inthe morning and explain. The man was mad; and Itossed the letter down and went off to bed.

I must have slept heavily after the day in the freshair, for I was roused by some one shaking me roughly.

I opened my eyes to find the lights switched up andthe police in my room. Two of them were searchingthe room and a third stood over me and ordered mesternly to get up and dress and be quick about it.

“What does it mean?” I asked, blinking like an owlin the sudden light.

“You are arrested. That’s what it means. Dressand come with us, unless you want to go as you are;”and the fellow gave point to his words by stripping offthe bedclothes.

A curious sequel, this, to Volheno’s letter.

DIGNITY in a nightshirt is impossible; so I rolledoff the bed and dressed myself quickly.

Why I should be arrested I could not imagine, unlessit was in some way the outcome of that row in thestreets. Even if that were so, the thing could not beserious. I had been mistaken for one of the mob andnearly clubbed by a policeman; but it was scarcelylikely I should be punished because he had missedhis aim. Probably some fool or other had blundered,and the whole thing was just a mistake.

I was disposed to smile at it, therefore. I mightlose half a night’s sleep; but that was no great matter;and as a recompense I should have an experience atfirst hand of police methods under a dictator.

“What am I supposed to have done?” I asked theman who had awakened me.

“Wait and see.” He jerked the words out withscowling gruffness.

“In England when a man is arrested like this it’susual to tell him the reason.”

“This isn’t England.”

“There’s no need to make the affair more unpleasantthan necessary by talking in that tone. The wholething’s a mistake; but I don’t blame you. Whygrowl at me, therefore?”

“Orders.”

“Well, who ordered this?”

“Hurry.” And he accompanied the word with anemphatic gesture.

[91]“Thank you,” I said with a grin; and as it wasevident I should not get anything out of him, I finisheddressing in silence. In the meanwhile the two menfinished their search of the drawers and wardrobe andmy luggage; and we went to my sitting-room.

This had also been ransacked; and the work musthave been done before they roused me. “Your mencertainly understand their work,” I said; for thesearch had been very thorough; “but you mighthave put some of the things back in their places.If you’ll give me a couple of minutes, I’ll do it myself,however.”

“No.” Short, sharp, and peremptory this, fromthe fellow who had spoken before.

“Then wake my servant—his room is through thekitchen at the end of the hall and up a short flight ofstairs.”

“No.” Same tone from the same speaker.

“All right. Then I’ll leave a line here for him tolet him know what has happened.”

“No.”

“But he’ll think I’ve gone mad, or bolted, or——”

“Come.” He was quite a master of monosyllabicdialogue.

“I’ll be hanged if I will,” I flung back at himangrily.

But as he pulled out a revolver and made me understand—withouteven a monosyllable this time—that I shouldbe shot if I didn’t, I decided not to be obstinate.

As we left the door of the house a vehicle drove upand I was bundled into it, none too gently.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Silence.” The word was so fiercely uttered thatI saw no use in arguing the point. I sat still thereforewondering to which prison we were going and whatsteps I should be allowed to take to get the matterexplained. The simplest course would be to send a lineto Volheno; but the arrest was really an outrage,[92]and in the interests of other Englishmen in the city,a row ought to be made about it by the Britishauthorities.

I was hesitating to which of the two quarters I wouldsend, when the carriage stopped before a large privatehouse, the door of which was instantly opened and Iwas hurried inside. Obviously I was expected.

The three men took me up a broad flight of stairs andhalted on the landing. The man of monosyllables wentinto a room at the back of the house, taking with himsome papers which I concluded he had brought frommy rooms; and after perhaps a couple of minutes hereopened the door and signed to us to enter.

Seated at a large official-looking table was a man inevening dress reading the letter from Volheno, thereceipt of which had so puzzled me on my return fromthe Stella. To my intense surprise he rose and offeredme his hand.

“I am sorry to have had to disturb you, Mr.Donnington, and am extremely obliged to you forhaving come so promptly,” he said with a courteoussmile and an appearance of great cordiality.

This was too much for my gravity. I looked at himin bewilderment, and then laughed. “As a matterof fact your men didn’t give me any alternative.”

“I do not understand,” he replied glancing fromme to the police, who looked rather sheepish.

“Well, I was arrested. These men got into myrooms—I don’t know how—hauled me out of bed,would tell me nothing, except that I was under arrest;and dragged me here. That’s why I came so promptly,”I said drily.

“What does this mean, you?” he thundered at thepolice, his eyes flaming his anger.

“I was only ordered to bring him here, and Ibrought him,” answered the man of few words, in ahang-dog, surly tone.

“By Heaven, it is infamous. Do you mean to tell[93]me that you never delivered M. Volheno’s letter tothis gentleman?”

“I had no letter.”

“You blockhead, you fool, you thing of wood, getout of the room. You’ll hear of this again, all of you.A set of clumsy mules without the brains of an idiotamongst you;” and he stormed away at them furiously.

I chuckled at their discomfiture while admiring atthe same time the excellent variety of abusive epithetpossessed by their angry superior.

“These blunders are the curse and despair of publicmen,” he exclaimed as he slammed the door after themand returned to his seat. “Of course the whole thingis an egregious blunder, Mr. Donnington, and I tenderyou at once a most profound apology.”

I considered it judicious to mount the high horse.“It is a very disgraceful affair, sir, and naturally Ishall report the matter to the representatives of mycountry here and demand satisfaction.”

“Oh, I hope you will not find it necessary to do that,”he replied in a tone of great concern. “I would nothave had it occur for any consideration in the world.”

“A man in my position is not likely to submit tamelyto such an infamous outrage; and I cannot see my wayto have such a thing hushed up,” I declared with a verygrandiose air. “It might have occurred to any countrymanof mine whose lack of influence might renderhim unable to protect himself.”

“Let us talk it over;” he urged; and we did atsome length until I allowed myself to be mollified byhis apologies, and agreed not to take any step withoutfirst seeing Volheno.

“And now perhaps you will have the goodness toexplain why I was asked so courteously”—I dwelton the phrase and he winced—“to come here at thistime of night.”

“It was really M. Volheno’s suggestion, Mr. Donnington.You see I am in evening dress and I was fetched[94]home hurriedly from a social gathering as the resultof some discoveries the police have made. I mayexplain I am the magistrate—d’Olliveira is my name:you may perhaps have heard it.”

“I have not. I never discuss public matters here,”I said.

“Well, as I was saying, some important discoverieshave been made and a number of arrests——”

“Of the same nature as mine?” I interjected.

“Oh, please,” he replied with a deprecatory smileand wave of the hand. “A number of genuine arrestshave been made and I am going to interrogate theprisoners. M. Volheno thinks it very probable thatyou can identify——”

“Do what?” I exclaimed.

“We believe that they are some of the men whofrequented the revolutionary headquarters in the RuaCatania about which you gave him information.”

“Wait a moment. I never gave M. Volheno anyinformation of any sort whatever, sir.”

He gave me a very shrewd glance and his eyes werehard and piercing. “Surely—I don’t understand,then.”

“I am beginning to, I think. I had a letter fromhim to-night—I think your clever police brought itaway with them—in which he thanked me for havingdone something of the sort. But he is under a completedelusion. I am going to see him in the morningand tell him so.”

“Is this the letter?” I nodded as he held it up.“With your permission I’ll read it again.”

“I don’t care what you do with it,” I said.

“It is certainly very strange,” he muttered to himselfwhen he finished. “He clearly has had a letterfrom you and this is the reply to it.”

“Nothing of the sort is clear, sir, and I’ll beg youto be so good as not to imply that I should lie aboutit either to you or to him,” I rapped out hotly. “I[95]have had as much from your people as I can stand forone night. I tell you point-blank that I did not writeany letter either to M. Volheno or any one else givingany such information as he and you appear to think;nor did I tell any one anything of the sort. I declarethat on my word of honour.”

His look was very stern. “This is an official matter,of course, Mr. Donnington, and you must not regardanything I say as reflecting in any way upon yourword. But I am taken entirely by surprise, of course,and equally of course the matter cannot rest here.”

“What does that mean?”

He made a little gesture of protest and sat thinking.“Do you say that you had no such information aboutthe house in the Rua Catania?” he asked after thepause.

“What I know and what I don’t know concerns noone but myself, sir,” I replied firmly. “I declineto answer your question.”

He shrugged his shoulders significantly. “Thismay be more serious than I thought. You will seethat. I think, perhaps, I had better send for M.Volheno.”

“You can send for the Dictator himself if you like.It makes no sort of difference to me.”

He was much perplexed what to do and at lengthtook a paper from one of the pigeon holes of the table,folded it very carefully and then held it out to me. “Isthat your signature, Mr. Donnington?” He put thequestion in his severest magisterial manner.

“It’s uncommonly like it, I admit.”

“Ah,” he grunted with evident satisfaction. “Haveyou any objection to write a few lines in my presenceand at my dictation.”

“None whatever, provided you undertake to destroywhat I write in my presence afterwards.”

He smiled grimly and then rose and waved me to sitat the desk.

[96]“Well?” I asked, looking up pen in hand at thedesk.

“Write as follows, please.”

“It may influence your Government in grantingthe Beira concessions which I seek,” I wrote as hedictated, “if I give you some information which Ihave learnt. Let your men raid at once the house237, Rua da Catania. It is one of the headquartersof the revolutionary party. I shall be in a positionto tell you much more in a few days. Of courseyou will keep the fact of my writing thus absolutelysecret.”

“That will do,” he said.

I resumed my former seat and he sat down at thedesk again and very carefully compared what I hadwritten with the letter the signature of which he hadshown to me. The work of comparison occupied a longtime, and now and again he made a note of some pointwhich struck him.

“You gave me a pledge on your word of honourjust now, Mr. Donnington,” he said, at length turninga very stern face to me. “Are you willing thatI treat with you on that basis?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then will you pledge me your word to imitate tothe utmost of your ability a line of the writing of thisletter?”

“Certainly.”

Again I took his seat and he folded the letter sothat only one line was visible.

“Rua de Catania. It is one of the headquarters,”was the line.

“It’s a little unusual for a magistrate to give lessonsin forgery, isn’t it?” I asked as I studied the writingand then wrote as good an imitation of it as I could,and returned to my seat.

[97]Again he made an examination letter by letter, verylaboriously.

“Well?” I asked, growing impatient at his longsilence.

“I am greatly perplexed, Mr. Donnington. And Imust ask you one or two questions. How did youcome to know of the house mentioned here?”

“Wait a bit, please. I have complied with the testyou put; what is the result? And what is my position now?”

“I put my questions in a perfectly friendly spirit—asM. Volheno would put them were he here.”

“And that writing test?”

“I will discuss it freely with you afterwards. Ipromise you that.”

“Well, I can tell you nothing about the house.Evidently the writer of that letter knows that I learntwhat I know by accident; but what I know I cannotreveal.”

“I am sorry you take that line. Whom did youmeet there?”

“I cannot answer.”

“Did you meet a Dr. Barosa there?”

“I cannot answer.”

“Did you rescue a lady from any of the men belongingto the place?”

“I cannot answer. I will not answer any questions.”

“Was that lady the Contesse Inez Inglesia?”

I held my tongue.

He asked many questions of a similar nature, surprisingme considerably by his knowledge of my movementson that night and since; but I maintained astolid silence.

I could see his anger rising at his repeated failureto extract any reply, and he sat thinking with pursedlips and a heavy frown. “I will make one furthereffort. I ask you as a personal favour to M. Volhenoto reply to me.”

[98]“If M. Volheno were fifty times as great a friend ofmine as he is, and begged me on his knees, I would notdo it, sir!”

His frown deepened at this. “Then you must understandthat if you persist in refusing, you may aswell abandon all thought of obtaining the concessionsyou seek.”

“To the devil with the concessions. If Volhenoor you or any one else in the business think you aregoing to bribe me with them to do spy work for you,the sooner you disabuse your minds of that insultingrot the better,” I answered letting my temper go.“And now I’ve finished with this thing and wantto go back to bed.”

“I cannot take the responsibility of allowing youto leave, Mr. Donnington,” he snapped back sharply.

“Do you mean that you dare to detain me as aprisoner?”

“Keep your temper, sir, and remember that Iam a law officer of His Majesty the King of Portugal.”

“Then as a British subject I claim my right to communicateat once with the British Legation.”

“That request will be considered, and if it is thoughtdesirable, complied with. Not otherwise. This is apolitical matter. It is known to us that you have heldcommunication with these dangerous revolutionaries;you are seeking to shield them by refusing information;and the only inference I can draw is that you do sobecause you are in collusion with them.”

At that I burst out laughing. “Infer what you likeand be hanged to you.”

“You may find this is no laughing matter, sir,” hecried, getting white with anger.

“And so may you, magistrate though you are.Kidnapping Englishmen is not a game your Governmentcan play at with impunity, my friend.”

“I shall send for M. Volheno,” he said as he rose;[99]“and in the meantime shall detain you here on myown responsibility.”

And with that he favoured me with a scowl and wentout of the room, leaving me to speculate where I wasgoing to finish the night.

The odds appeared to be in favour of a prison cellrather than my own bed.

THE matter was obviously more serious than Ihad at first believed; and I realized that, asthe authorities were aware that I knew Barosa andInez were really revolutionaries, I might have somedifficulty in convincing them that my knowledge hadbeen innocently obtained. And two unpleasant possibilitiesloomed ahead.

This hot-headed magistrate, if left to himself, mightpack me off to one of their prisons; and any one whohas seen a Portuguese prison will understand mydread of such a step.

The condition of these dens of filth, wretchedness,and abomination is a black stain upon the Portugueseadministration. Take the lowest and dirtiest typeof the worst doss-house in London, multiply its foulestfeatures ten times, overcrowd it with verminousbrawling scum to two or three times the extent ofwhat you would consider its utmost limit of accommodation,and stir up the whole with gaoler-bullieswho have all graduated with the highest honours inthe school of brutality and blackguardism; and youhave a typical Portuguese gaol.

A sojourn in one of those human hells was onepossible result for me; and the other was even moredistasteful—that a sufficiently grave view might betaken of the case to have me ordered out of the country.

I was railing at my ill-luck in ever having learntthe facts which threatened one of these alternatives,[101]when the murmurs of many voices started below inthe house swelled as it came up the stairs and culminatedin a chorus of threats and groans and curses justoutside as the door was opened and a man was thrustviolently into the room and went staggering acrossthe floor.

He had been in the wars. His clothes were all disordered,his collar was flying loose, his coat was torn,and he had the crumpled look which a man is apt tohave at two o’clock in the morning after a night onthe general rampage finished up with a scrimmagewith the police.

His first act was inspired by the sheer stupidity ofrage. He turned and shook his fists at the door andswore copiously. He had quite a natural gift forcursing, and gave free vent to it. Then he beganto put his clothes straight and saw me for the firsttime.

“Hallo, you here?”

“Yes.” Both question and answer sounded a littlesuperfluous under the circ*mstances, but it turnedout that he recognized me.

“Did they want you?” He swore again as he recalledhis own experiences.

“Who?”

“Those infernal brutes out there?”

“Do you mean the police?”

Instead of replying he gave me a sharp look and thencame up close and peered inquiringly at me with hishead slightly on one side.

“What the devil are you doing here?”

“Waiting to go somewhere else; but where, seemsa little doubtful at present.”

He laughed. “I didn’t expect they’d take you yet.They’re all fools—the whole lot of them. I toldthem to give you more rope.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, not that sort;” and he made a gesture to[102]indicate hanging. Then wrinkling his brows he addedsuspiciously: “You didn’t come of your own accord,did you?”

“Perhaps you’ll make things a bit plainer.”

“If you did, you’d better tell me.”

“If there’s any telling to be done you’d better startit,” I said drily.

“They got me to-night—— Here, aren’t you interestedin Miralda Dominguez?” he broke off loweringhis voice.

“I’m getting rather interested in you. Who areyou?”

He winked knowingly. He was quite young, darkand not bad-looking, except that he had sly ferrettyeyes. “You don’t know, eh? You don’t remember,eh? Is that your line? Or are you on the sametack as I am?”

“What is your particular tack?”

“You might have guessed it I should think. They’vegot about twenty of Barosa’s people here and abouthalf a dozen police to look after them. Somebodylet ’em know that I meant to save myself by tellingthings, and the brutes nearly tore me to bits as I cameup. The devils;” and once more he cursed themluridly. “But I’ll make it hot for some of them,”he added, his little close-set eyes gleaming viciously.

“Oh, you’re an informer, are you? Well, I don’tlike your breed, I’m——”

“Oh, I know you, of course. You’re Ralph Donnington,the reputed English millionaire. I know;”and he winked again. “I saw you at the de Pinsarahouse the other night with Barosa. He told me youwere all right. I had to tell them about you, of course.They’ve sucked me about as dry as a squeezed orange.Barosa told me you were interested in Miralda Dominguez——”

“I’d rather not talk any more,” I interposed sharply.

“I suppose you know it’s all up. They’ve got[103]Barosa and Contesse Inglesia, and Lieutenant de Lintoand heaps of others. But not his sister yet.”

I affected not to hear this and took out a cigaretteand lighted it.

“Can you spare me one?”

I put the case in my pocket.

“If you want to get her out of the mess you’dbetter do as I’ve done. Out with everything. It’sthe only way. I——”

I jumped to my feet. “Look here, if you talk anymore to me I shall act as deputy for those men outside,and when I’ve finished with you, you’ll find it difficultto talk at all.”

That stopped him and he slunk away to the doorand flopped into a chair staring at me and mutteringto himself, probably cursing me as he had cursedthe others.

Soon afterwards M. d’Olliveira came back with acouple of police, and said that Volheno was comingand would arrive in about half an hour. Then heordered the first of the prisoners to be brought in.

The informer jumped away from the door as if itwas on fire and crossed to the other side of the magistrate’sdesk.

The proceedings were very short—apparently forno purpose other than identification.

I glanced at the prisoner and recognized him as oneof the men I had seen at the house in the Rua Catania.He was the scoundrel named Henriques, who had beengoing to strike Inez when I had entered.

He looked at the young informer with a scowl ofhate and hissed out an execration.

The magistrate appealed to me first. “You knowthis man, Mr. Donnington?” he said sharply, andthe fellow turned a scowling face on me with a halfdefiant and wholly malicious expression.

“Do I? If you know that, why ask me?”

“Don’t trifle with me, sir.”

[104]“He knows him well enough. He saw him thatnight in the Rua Catania,” broke in the informer.

“Hold your tongue,” was the rough rebuke. “Doyou deny it, Mr. Donnington?”

“You can draw what inference you please. I declineto be questioned by you or any one,” I replied.

“I cannot too strongly warn you, Mr. Donnington,that any refusal to identify this man and any of hiscompanions will render you suspect.”

“I am quite ready to accept the responsibility.”

He turned then to the informer and accepted hisidentification, made a note of it, and sent the prisoneraway in custody.

Another of the men I had seen in the house wasbrought in, and a very similar scene was enacted,except that I held my tongue. Three more followedand then a pause.

When the door opened next time Dr. Barosa wasbrought in.

“You know this man, Mr. Donnington?” askedd’Olliveira.

“Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting him at thehouse of the Marquis de Pinsara. Good evening, Dr.Barosa;” and I rose and would have shaken handswith him had not the police prevented me.

“Did you see him in Rua Catania?” asked themagistrate.

“I have told you I met him elsewhere. That is myanswer.”

“I am obliged to you, Mr. Donnington,” said Barosa,“but unfortunately no good purpose can be gainedby your keeping silent about anything you know. Youcan only compromise yourself; and as everythingis now known to these people, I release you from thepledge of secrecy you gave.”

“Ah,” broke in d’Olliveira, gloatingly.

“To the devil with you and your grunts of satisfaction,”I cried hotly, turning on him. “If you[105]want to bribe or frighten information out of people,do it with carrion like that young brute at your side.Don’t try it with Englishmen.”

“How dare you use that tone to me, sir?” he exclaimed,getting up.

Barosa interposed. “I beg you not to compromiseyourself further. It may lead you into a very falseposition and can do no good either to me or to theContesse Inglesia. It is known quite well that you werepresent in the——”

“That’s enough, doctor. If you like to tell thesepeople what they want to know, it’s your affair notmine. As for my part, I have friends quite influentialenough not only to protect me, but to make itunpleasant for this hectoring gentleman here. I amsorry to see you in this mess.”

He threw up his hands. “It is the fortune of war.”Then he turned to the magistrate. “Now, sir are yousatisfied?”

There was a pause and d’Olliveira said: “Yes,absolutely.”

And then I had the most amazing surprise of my life.

The magistrate waved his hand and a dozen or moremen, police and prisoners mingled together, crowdedinto the room, and the eyes of every man presentwere directed on me.

Barosa stepped forward and offered me his hand.

“You must forgive us, Mr. Donnington,” he said.

“Forgive you. What the deuce for?”

“For having tested you in this drastic way. Youwill admit the evidence that you had betrayed us tothe authorities was very strong—a letter in yourname to your friend M. Volheno and his to you, thankingyou for the information, was found in your rooms.I made the inquiries you suggested and satisfied myselfof your absolute good faith. I would not believeyou had broken your word, but my friends hereinsisted, and then this test was planned.”

[106]“Do you mean——” I stopped in sheer astonishmentas the truth dawned on me.

“I mean that this was all an elaborate pretence.There is no magistrate here and no police. We areall comrades in the one cause, and after what haspassed no one of us will ever distrust you again. Isay that for all of us.”

“Yes, certainly for me,” said the magistrate.

“For us all,” came a chorus.

“Well, you fooled me all right,” I said, gaping atthem for a moment like a bumpkin at a wax-workshow, for the suddenness of the thing almost bewilderedme. Then I laughed and added: “It seems Iwas sitting on a bag with more gunpowder in it than Iknew. Which do you expect me to do—thank youfor your present confidence or curse you for your formerdistrust?”

“The matter is ended, Mr. Donnington,” saidBarosa. “And you have as much reason as we haveto be glad the result is what it is.”

“And if it had gone the other way?”

He shrugged his shoulders and replied very drily:“You had better not ask perhaps. At such a crisisour methods with those who betray us cannot be—pleasant.”

“Which reminds me,” I said, turning to the manwho had played the magistrate—whose real nameI learnt was Sebastian Maral—“you’ve asked meplenty of questions and there are one or two I shouldlike to ask you. How did you get that spurious letterI was supposed to write to M. Volheno?”

“I think we had better discuss those matters alone,”interposed Barosa; and then all but we three left theroom.

“Was such a letter really written?” I asked.

“Certainly. That which you received was M.Volheno’s reply to it.”

“Then some one did give away that Rua Catania[107]house? Who is it? Do you suspect any one inparticular?”

“No,” said Barosa, his look darkening as he added:“But we shall of course find out.”

“I think you can help us, Mr. Donnington,” saidMaral. “The writer is obviously an enemy of yours.Can you make a suggestion?”

I was fairly confident that I knew, but it did notsuit me to say so. “I have not had time yet to makeany enemies unless some one is after the Beira concessionsand thought this an easy way of getting rid of acompetitor. Will you show me the original of thatletter you dictated to me?”

He glanced at Barosa who nodded, and it was givento me.

I made a discovery then. Either from inadvertenceor as a proof of confidence in me, Maral left on theletter, where it was pinned to the top, a strip of paperwith half a dozen words followed by the numerals“134.”

I compared the handwriting of the letter with myown copy of the dictated part and saw at once howclumsy a forgery it was. My signature was donewell enough; the writer probably had a signature ofmine and had practised it until the resemblance wasstriking. But the attempt to write an entire autographletter was a conspicuous failure.

Then while pretending to continue my examinationof the writing, I worried over the curious superscription,and it dawned upon me at length that it was a messageof some sort in cypher.

As the other two had their heads together in a veryearnest discussion, I unpinned the cypher message androlled it up in my palm. Its nature convinced methat it was inadvertence not confidence which had ledMaral to let me see it, and I took the risk of his notnoticing its absence even if I could not do what I nowvery much wished—retain the letter itself for a time.

[108]“I wish to keep this letter, Dr. Barosa,” I saidpresently.

“I am afraid that is not possible. It has to bereturned.”

“We can get over that easily enough. You areprobably as eager as I am to know who wrote it. Asfor returning it, I’ll write out another in my own hand,and that one can be returned.”

After some demur this was agreed to; and I wentto the desk and wrote the duplicate letter, and wascareful to fold it up so that Maral should not miss thestrip of paper I had annexed.

While I was writing, Barosa paced up and down theroom thinking. The fact that there was a traitor somewhereamong the followers disquieted him profoundly.And when I had finished he came up to me and saidwith intense earnestness: “You have some definitepurpose in keeping that letter, Mr. Donnington?”

“Naturally. I mean to try and find the writer ofit.”

“Are you sure there is no one you suspect?”

“I do not know all your followers; if there is anyone among them who seeks to prevent my getting——”

He broke in, with an impatient motion of the hand.“Do you give me your word you have no positivesuspicion?”

“Is that a question you should expect me to answer?I am not one of you, and I have no interest whatever inyour cause. If I am anxious to discover the writer,it is for my own purposes not yours.”

“We are helping you in trusting that to you.”

“Take it back if you will;” and I held it out.

He shook his head and did not take it. “If youfind out the truth you will tell me?” he asked.

“I make no promise. I may or I may not, butfrankly that will turn upon my own concerns, notupon yours.”

“You are very straight,” he said, with a slow hesitating[109]smile, much more suggestive of vexation thanmirth.

“I think we had better leave it there. It is notimprobable that if I do get at the truth I may needyour help. In that case I shall come to you.”

“I should like something more definite.”

I shook my head. “Not yet, at any rate,” I said.

“I may visit you?”

“At any time you please. And now, I’ll be off.”

While we had been speaking Maral was taking papersfrom the desk, and as he turned and held out his hand tobid me good-night, we heard the sound of loud knockingat the door of the house.

“What can that be?” he exclaimed nervously.

The next moment the room door was thrust openand the young fellow who had played the part of informerrushed in.

“The police!” he gasped. “The house is surrounded.All the rest have gone.”

Barosa did not turn a hair, but Maral, suddenlygrey with fear, tossed up his hands and dropped intohis chair with a sigh of despair.

“Are they really the police this time?” I asked.

He nodded. “More of the same man’s work,”he said with grim concentrated passion, and carriedaway for the moment by his feelings, he clenched hisfists and uttered a vehement oath.

I should have sworn too, no doubt, if I had beenin his place. But I was thinking of myself and whatI was going to do.

It was a tight corner for us all.

In the pause the knocking was repeated more noisilyand peremptorily than before.

AT the second summons Barosa roused himself.

“What will you do, Mr. Donnington. Wehave a secret means of leaving the house and——”

“I swear I had forgotten that,” exclaimed Maral,as he jumped up, grabbed his papers and made forthe door.

“Wait please. Give me the letter which M. Volhenowrote me,” I said, stopping him.

He searched for it agitatedly and then thrust itinto my hand. “Come on, Barosa,” he cried anddarted away.

“Are you going to remain?” asked Barosa, hurriedly.

I nodded. “You won’t want to use this houseagain?”

“Of course not. But——”

The crash of glass below interrupted him,announcing that the police had broken in, and thenext moment I had the room to myself and satdown to wait for the real police and find out howtheir treatment differed from that of the bogusones.

With Volheno’s letter in my possession I had nothingto fear, and I glanced at it to make sure that Maralin his panic had handed me the right one—and thengave a start of surprise.

It was Volheno’s letter all right, but folded up init was a long doubled strip of paper with three rows of[111]small holes punched in it at irregular intervals. I knewinstantly what it was—the key to the cipher whichI had seen attached to the letter which I had duplicated.

As the police might have a fancy to search me Irolled it and the other strip very tightly, emptied acigarette, inserted the roll, and plugged up the endswith tobacco; and just when the police were at thedoor I struck a match and was puffing at the cigaretteas two of them entered.

“Good evening, gentlemen, I’m very relieved to seeyou,” I said, rising and carefully pinching out thelighted tobacco.

“You are our prisoner,” exclaimed one of them,covering me with a revolver.

“I’m extremely relieved to hear it, I can assureyou.”

“Where are the others?”

“What others?”

“The other scoundrels who use this house?”

“To my intense satisfaction your arrival scaredthem away.”

“Don’t try and fool us with that tone. You won’thelp them and it will make things worse for you. Putup your hands.”

I did so, at once, of course, keeping hold of myprecious cigarette, and they made a very business-likesearch of all my pockets, and then felt all aboutme to see that I had no weapons. They put the resultsof their search on the desk, and one of them, being avery zealous officer, went to the trouble of breaking opentwo or three of the cigarettes and pinching andbending the rest. But it did not occur to him that Icould be smoking one which he might wish to see. Ithad been quite a happy thought, that little precautionof mine.

Then one of them picked up the letter from Volhenoand was unfolding it when I said gently: “I am not[112]sure that M. Volheno will care for you to read correspondencebetween us.”

The name acted like a charm of magic. He refoldedit and dropped it like a live coal.

“It would, however, assist you to understand theposition, my friend, and appreciate your mistake,”I said in the same suave tone.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Ralph Donnington. I am an Englishmanand have the privilege of enjoying the friendshipof M. Volheno.”

“Why didn’t you say who you were before?”

“You did not ask me, and I never argue with the manat the butt end of a revolver.”

“How is it you are here?”

“I think that is a matter I can better explain to myfriend, M. Volheno, himself.” Seeing the excellenteffect of the name, I deemed it judicious to rub it in.“Are you in command here? If not, I wish youwould bring your superior here or take me to him.”

They whispered together and one of them leftthe room.

“Do you know where you are? What this houseis, I mean?”

“Oh yes, perfectly. I have had very good proofof it. Would you have any objection to my loweringmy hands? This is rather a trying position.”

He nodded and his face relaxed in a grin which heturned away to conceal.

“I should also like my matchbox and cigarettes—ifyou don’t think I shall blow the Government upwith them. Thank you very much,” I added as hehanded them to me.

Affecting considerable annoyance at the conditionof the cigarettes, I tossed away those which were broken,and while pretending to straighten out the bent onesI managed to slip the one I held into the case withouthis knowledge. Then I lit another and pocketed the[113]case, and sat puffing away, with that air of easyindifference affected by the cigarette-smoking villainin melodrama when he is top dog and has all the virtuousmembers of the caste in his power.

I had nearly finished the cigarette when the manreturned with a superior officer whose look of chagrintold me that the raid had been unsuccessful andthat Barosa and the rest had escaped.

“Now what is your story?” he asked brusquely.

As he had the look of a man who would not standany nonsense, I dropped my air of indifference. “Iam an Englishman, Donnington is my name. I quiteunderstand that my presence here requires explanationand that of course I am entirely in your hands.”

“What is your explanation?”

“I was brought here by force.”

He sneered. “You think I shall believe that?”

“I am sure that my friend, M. Volheno, will.”

“What does M. Volheno know of you?”

“Your men took from me a letter he wrote to me.It is on the desk there and explains itself. But it ismarked confidential; and whether he would wish youto read it is a point I will leave to you. I am indifferent.”

This proved a good card. He stretched out his handto take the letter and paused.

“Tell me the purport of it,” he said.

“No, no. I can’t do that. It is a confidentialletter, I say. I cannot disclose it therefore. But Iam your prisoner and cannot prevent your doing whatyou please.”

His perplexity was quite amusing.

“How do I know it is not a forgery?”

“I don’t know that myself, but it was addressedto me at my rooms, 318, Rua de Palma, and reachedme to-night through the post.”

“How long have you been in this house?”

“Some hours.”

[114]“Alone?” he cried with another sneer.

“Oh no. For part of the time one man was here;for others, two; and at times perhaps a dozen.”

“Where are they?”

“I have no more idea than you. There were twoof them when you and your men arrived. I was thenleft alone.”

“But the house was surrounded. They couldn’tescape.”

“I was brought straight to this room and have notbeen allowed to leave it for a moment.”

“‘Allowed’?” he repeated quickly, catching atthe word.

“That is just what I mean. Otherwise, I certainlyshould not have remained.”

“Who were the men?”

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. “I wouldtell you if I could.” This was a deliberate equivocation,but it saved me from a direct lie. I meant thatI could not because of my pledge, but I meant himto infer that I did not know.

He paused and I added: “And now I shall be gladto know what you propose to do with me?”

“What do you suppose we generally do with prisoners?Billet them at the Avenida Palace Hotel?You’ll be locked up for the rest of the night, of course,while we make inquiries about you.”

“I am an Englishman—as I have told you.”

“What of that? What’s good enough for aPortuguese is good enough for an Englishman, I suppose.”

“I am also a friend of M. Volheno.”

“So you say. But do you expect me to rouse himin the middle of the night whenever a revolutionaryrascal chooses to say he is a friend?”

“I can give you the names of several other influentialmen who know me. The Marquis de Pinsara,Visconte de Linto,” and I rattled off a number of the[115]men to whom I had been introduced on the night of thereception.

“You can communicate with them in the morningand call them as witnesses,” he sneered. He had thesardonic habit strongly developed. “But I haven’tdone questioning you yet.”

“I shall not answer any more questions. Youdon’t believe what I tell you. My object was to avoidthe unpleasantness of being thrust into one of yourfilthy gaols; and that has evidently failed.”

“You will tell me where the men are hidden whowere here with you,” he said very threateningly.

“I repeat, I know no more than you do. You werealready in the house when they left this room.”

“That won’t do for me,” he answered bluntly. Hemotioned to the two men who pulled my hands behindmy back and slipped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists,while he himself sat down at the desk and made a listof the things the men had taken from me. “Is thisall?” he asked the fellow who had searched me.

“All but a cigarette case.”

“Anything in it?”

“Nothing but cigarettes. I made sure of that.”

“All right.” I breathed more freely.

“Now, prisoner, show me the secret hiding-placein this room.”

“There is none. The men left the room.”

He came close up and glared so fiercely into my facethat I thought he was going to strike me. He was thesort of brute to enjoy hitting a defenceless man. “Ifyou lie to me, I’ll——” he ground his teeth and leftme to finish the sentence out of my own fears.

“I do not lie,” I said meeting his look steadily.“And you will do well to bear in mind in all you donow that in the morning you will find every word Ihave said as to my friendship with M. Volheno istrue.”

I spoke very calmly thinking it would have the[116]better effect. But it appeared to enrage him andthis time he actually raised his hand for a blow. Itwas therefore clearly time to try a change of manner.

So I shoved my head forward until our noses werenearly touching and with a fierce oath, I cried: “Youdare to lay a hand on me, you infernal bully, and itshall cost you dear. M. Volheno shall know of this.Do your duty whatever that may be, but not one jotmore, or——” and I adopted his tactic of an unfinishedsentence.

The result was a surprising success. His hand fellto his side, his eyes wavered, and his threateningtruculence of manner dropped from him like a cloak.The reason was, of course, that he was a miserablecoward and had mistaken my coolness for fear.

“I am only doing my duty,” he muttered.

“You lie,” I thundered back, quick to take advantageof his mood. “You dare to handcuff me like afelon, when I tell you I am a British subject and giveyou ample means of testing what I say. You’ll haveto reckon with the British Legation for this. Dowhat you will, while you have me in your power;but don’t think for an instant you won’t have to payfor your bullying in the morning.”

“I have——”

“Don’t try to excuse yourself. If you want tobully any one, do it with the unfortunate devils underyour orders. As for me, do what you dare—butremember, it will be my turn to-morrow.”

“If you’ll give your word not to offer resistance,you shall be freed.”

“You didn’t ask that before you handcuffed me.I call these men to witness that. Take me in themto M. Volheno—if you dare. Or haul me off to gaolin them. It’s all one to me—until to-morrow.”

He paused and then signed to the men who freedme, and he left the room. I sat down and the menstood near the door whispering and snigg*ring together.[117]They appeared to be rather pleased at their chief’sdiscomfiture.

He was away so long that I fell asleep and was in themiddle of a realistic dream that I was in prison amongthe scum of the city when I was roused by some onethundering my name in my ear.

I started up and found the official had returnedwith a companion who was shaking me and calling meby name.

“Mr. Donnington! Mr. Donnington!”

“Well, what is it?” I grumbled, blinking at himlike an owl until I recognized him as a man I had seenat Volheno’s bureau.

“M. Volheno desired me to come to you, sir.”

“Oh, ho,” I chuckled, turning to the official, “soyou thought discretion was the better part of bullying,eh?”

“My name is Dagara, Mr. Donnington. I am M.Volheno’s private secretary. He instructed me tosay that he desires to see you as soon as you can callon him.”

“I have to go to gaol first,” I said with a snarl formy old enemy. “I was already there in my dreamswhen you roused me. But if I am to be shot or hangedor beheaded as this man decides, I’ll leave directionsfor my corpse to be packed up neatly and sent to M.Volheno.” I was winning so I could afford a smalljibe.

“You are of course at liberty to go where you will,”said Dagara.

“Then I’ll go back to bed,” I declared as I rose,“and will see M. Volheno in the morning. I haveto tell him how this brute has treated me.”

The official had wilted like an unwatered flower inthe noon sunlight. He returned me my belongingsand began to mumble an apology. “I much regret——”

“I’ve no doubt of it. I know your kind,” I cut[118]in drily, and then left the house with Dagara, feelingthat I was well out of an ugly business.

I had come off with all the honours of war, too, formy letters had not been read and the two little secretpapers were safely stowed away in my cigarette case.

The secretary walked with me to my rooms and Ifound him an exceedingly close-lipped individual.The house where the drastic test of my good faith hadbeen applied was in the Rua Formosa, about half amile from the Rua de Palma; and during the walk Icould get little else than monosyllables from my companion.He did go so far as to tell me that he hadbeen at work all night with Volheno and that thatwas the reason he had not gone home and had beenable to come so promptly to identify me.

But when I asked him about the police official hereplied that he knew nothing.

I soon ceased to question him, and as we reachedmy rooms, he said suddenly: “You will understandof course that M. Volheno never allows me to speakof any of his affairs. I will give him your message,and wish you good-morning, Mr. Donnington;” andwith this abrupt apology in explanation of his silence,he raised his hat and went off.

A useful and silently working wheel, no doubt, inthe complicated machinery of the Dictator’s systemof government, was my mental verdict as I enteredmy rooms, eager to examine my prizes at leisure.

I put back some of the things Barosa’s men hadleft littered about, brewed myself some strong coffee,and set to work.

I first read through again very carefully the forgedletter which had been sent to Volheno. That it wasthe work of an enemy who was well versed in mymovements was of course on the surface. My friendshipwith the man to whom it was addressed, mysecret knowledge of the house in the Rua Catania,my business in regard to these Beira concessions,[119]these three points told their story as plainly as theattempt proved the ingenious malignity of the writer,and his intention to cause Barosa and his friends tosuspect me of treachery. The blow was aimed at mylife.

There was only one man in all Lisbon who couldhave the needed information and would have themotive.

Sampayo.

Jealousy was one motive, and fear of what I knewabout him another. And he was just the sort ofcunning beast to go to work in this mole-like way. Hehad reckoned that Barosa’s people would acceptwithout question such a proof of my treachery andact upon it. And in all probability they would havedone so, but for my conversation with Barosa onthe night of the reception and his conviction of mygood faith.

But there was another point. He must have knownthat the contents of the letter would be at once passedon to Barosa. There was therefore some one aboutVolheno in league with the revolutionary party,and that some one must be sufficiently high in hisconfidence to be able to get the letter and send it tohis friends.

I must find that man out; and then I studied thelittle slip of paper which Maral had inadvertentlygiven me with the letter.

The line of nonsense ran as follows.

“Real effects to you truly. You know what thisonly can mean. 134”

Absolute gibberish of course. But I had the key.

I noticed that the sentence exactly fitted a line ofthe same length as the strip of paper with the holes init; and when I laid the first line of holes on the topof the words the meaning was clear.

[120]All the letters were covered by it except the following:

RETURN AT ONCE

“Return at once.”

A simple direction to send the letter back; and 134was probably the number by which the man wasknown to his companions. I had had my trouble fornothing—or next to nothing; for the cipher key didnot cover the figures at the end of the message.

Then a thought struck me. The numerals mightstand for letters: 134 would be “A. C. D.;” or 13and 4, “M.D.”

“M.D.!” I uttered the letters aloud in my surprise.They were Miralda’s initials. “Miralda Dominguez.”

The coincidence mazed me; but a moment’s reflectionmade the inference appear grotesque, preposterous,idiotic; and I laughed at it.

But my nerves were out of balance. The ordealof the last few hours, following so close upon the tenseinterview with Miralda on the Stella, had tried meseverely. Everybody appeared to be playing atmake-believe to cause me to misread everything I sawand heard.

Even as I laughed at the thought that Miralda couldhave had even the remotest connexion with thecipher message, the disconcerting possibility suggestedby the coincidence would not be shaken off.

Furious with myself, for the subconscious distrustof her which this depression of spirits implied, I huddledthe papers together and went off to bed.

A FEW hours’ sleep enabled me to laugh muchmore sincerely at the thought which had sentme off to bed in a hurry, and I was reviewing thewhole situation when Miralda’s brother called. Hehad the look of a man who had been making a nightof it, and was washed out and generally sorry for himself.

“Hullo, then, I have caught you, Mr. Donnington.May I come in?”

“Of course you may,” I said as I shook hands withhim, put him into an easy chair and handed him thecigarettes. “Why, did you think you wouldn’t catchme?”

He lit a cigarette and I saw that his hand shookbadly.

“Eh? Oh, you’re such a busy man, aren’t you?”His hesitancy and a note in his voice suggested nervousness,as if he had been momentarily at a losshow to answer.

“Not too busy for a chat with you at any time,lieutenant.” I spoke cordially because I wished tobe friendly.

“Thanks,” he said, adding after a puff or two:“You look confoundedly fit.”

“Not much the matter, I’m glad to say.”

“No, I should think not, indeed.” Another pausefollowed and he put his eyeglass in position, glanced[122]at me and then round the room, and let it fall again.“I suppose not.”

“Will you have a pick-me-up?” I asked. It struckme he had been looking about for one.

“Cognac,” he replied with a nod. I rang for myservant, Bryant, and mixed a brandy and soda, whichVasco drank eagerly. “Had a hot night of it,” hemurmured with one of his inane grins as he set theempty glass down.

“Lost?”

“I always do, curse the luck,” he answered, andpouring himself out about a wine-glassful of brandyhe gulped it down. “Hair of the dog, you know,”he added, smacking his lips. The spirit stimulatedhim. “Better luck next time;” and he laughed, thefrown left his face, and he lolled back smoking withan air of indifference real or assumed.

“So you’re off, eh? Going in your yacht?”

“Off? Where to?”

“Home, I suppose. That’s what I meant aboutcatching you.”

“I am not going away.”

“Not? Why Sampayo——” he stopped suddenly.“No, it wasn’t Sampayo of course—but I heard youwere going last night,” he said, evidently confusedby his first slip.

My interest awoke in an instant. If Sampayo hadsent him to me, it was probably to learn the issue ofthe previous night’s scheme.

“No no. I shan’t be able to get away for a longtime to come.”

“Then I wonder why the deuce—I’m awfully gladto hear it. Then you won’t be taking your boat away?”

“Of course not. But I’m afraid the weather yesterdaymade your trip in her rather unpleasant.”

“Not a bit of it. The fact is I—I came to ask youa favour. I wonder if you’d mind lending her to mefor a day. As a matter of fact I want to give some[123]of the fellows of my regiment a bit of an outing, andI should like to take ’em out in her.”

He said all this with the air of one repeating a lessonand very much afraid of forgetting it. “My dearlieutenant, you can have her and welcome. Give mea couple of days’ notice, that’s all.”

“Thanks. I’m afraid you’ll think it cool of me.”

“Not cool of you at all; but I think Major Sampayohimself might have asked, instead of worrying you todo it.”

He sat bolt upright and stared at me. “I say, howthe deuce did you know?” he cried, astonishmentshaking all the pretence out of him.

“Never mind that. You can have the Stella,” Ianswered, with a smile, intending him to infer that Iknew much more.

“I know I’m a clumsy sort of ass. I suppose Igave it away. Dashed if you don’t beat me;” andhe shook his head in perplexity as he first tried torelight his cigarette and then threw it away and starteda fresh one.

“Did Major Sampayo tell you why he thought I wasleaving in such a hurry?”

“Here, hold on. I’m getting a bit afraid of you.”

“I am the last man in Lisbon you need be afraidof, lieutenant. I have the greatest desire for yourfriendship and—if you would like to give it—yourconfidence.”

I spoke earnestly and he glanced at me with ahunted, harassed look in his eyes, and then reachedfor the brandy again. I put it out of his reach. “Inever was more serious in my life,” I added. “IfI can ever help you, you have only to ask.”

He got up. He was pale and shaking. “I thinkI’ll go,” he said.

“Very well. But don’t forget what I’ve said.I mean it, on my honour;” and I held out my hand.

Instead of taking it he looked intently into my eyes[124]and then, to my surprise, and pain, he seemed to crumpleup suddenly. He threw himself back into the chair,covered his face with his hands and burst into tears.

It is hateful to see a man cry, but the feeling I hadfor him was rather pity than contempt. His tearstold me so much. He was the merest tool in Sampayo’shands, and his weak nature was as clay for the strongerman’s moulding. Miralda’s words flashed across mymind—that behind her betrothal to Sampayo was a“story of shame and crime.” Here was the key to it,I was convinced.

The shock of learning that I knew Sampayo was inthe background, his fear of what I knew, followed bymy earnest offer of friendship, confidence and help,coming at a moment when he was shaken by a nightof dissipation, had unmanned him.

With an excuse that I had to speak to Bryant, Ileft him alone for a few minutes, and when I returnedhe was staring out of the window smoking.

“You’ll think me an awful fool and baby, Mr.Donnington,” he said nervously and shamefacedly.

“No. Any man might break down under the loadyou are carrying.”

“May I come and see you again? I’m all shakenup now.”

“You can do better than that. Tell me now.”

“How you read a fellow’s thoughts.”

“Sit down and tell me frankly what hold MajorSampayo has on you.”

“I—I can’t tell you.”

“Is it money?”

“I—I can’t tell you,” he repeated, in the samehesitating way.

“I shan’t preach. I only wish to help.”

“I—I can’t tell you. I—I daren’t. I wish toheaven I dared.”

“You mean because of—your sister and all theothers involved?”

[125]With a quick start he asked, “Is it on her accountyou ask?”

“It is on your account, I ask.”

He wavered, but with a shrug of his thin shouldershe turned back to stare out of the window again. Aftera pause he said somewhat irritably. “I’m not in theconfessional box, Mr. Donnington. You’ve no right toquestion me. And after all, you can’t help me.”

“If you think that, there’s an end of the thing,lieutenant.”

“Now I’ve put your back up, I suppose?” andhe laughed feebly.

“Not in the least, I assure you. I know that youare in a devil of a mess——”

“How do you know it? Has Miralda——” hebroke in.

“Don’t mention your sister’s name, please,” Iinterposed in my turn, speaking sharply.

“Sampayo says you hate him on her account.And he hates you. There’s no mistake about that.”

“Yet he sent you to borrow my yacht.”

“That’s for another thing altogether—there I go.If I stop here you’ll have everything out of me.”

“If you mean in regard to this wretched conspiracy,I probably know much more than you could tellme.”

His jaw fell in his surprise. “You know and yetlend the Stella? Why, are you——” He pausedand stared at me in gaping bewilderment.

There could be only one reason for this. The Stellawas to be used for some purpose connected with therevolutionaries and he had jumped to the conclusionthat I was in league with them. Before I could replyhe saw his mistake. “What a mess I’m making ofthings,” he muttered to himself; and then to meweakly—“Don’t question me any more, Donnington.”

“Very well. But I was not asking you about thatat all, merely your personal affairs.”

[126]He stood glancing at me nervously and irresolutely.“I say, you won’t give me away, will you?”

“You have my word on that.”

“Not even to Miralda, I mean? I told her I wantedto talk to you, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

“When was that?”

“A couple of days ago.” That was before our talkon the Stella when she had been intent upon keepingme at a distance.

“Why did you ask her?”

“There you go again. You said you wouldn’tquestion me. I wish you wouldn’t,” he said peevishly,and then added with utter inconsequence; “she usedto be always speaking of you when she came backfrom Paris. You were Miralda’s Englishman, youknow. And when you turned up here——”

“I’d rather you didn’t tell me.”

“You are an odd mixture. One minute you wantto know everything and the next you shut me up.She’s awfully white and it’s because it’s so hard onher that I feel such a brute. I——” he pulled upsuddenly and seized his hat. “No, hang it, I can’ttell you now.”

At that moment Bryant brought in a letter fromVolheno asking me to go to him at once, and whenwe were alone again Vasco held out his hand. “MayI come again? I—I should like to tell you.”

I told him to come any time, and having made merepeat my promise not to give him away, he wrungmy hand and went off.

So Miralda was being sacrificed to save her brotherfrom the consequences of the “shame and crime”of which he had been guilty. That was unmistakablyplain now; as plain as that Sampayo was thebrute who was demanding the sacrifice as the priceof his silence.

In one way it was good news to me. I had fearedthat there might prove to be some other obstacle far[127]more difficult to overcome. But the instant I sentSampayo flying for life from the vengeance of theCorsican, Prelot, this barrier would cease to have terrorsfor either Miralda or her weak-kneed brother. Itwould be best, however, to learn what this crime wasbefore dealing with Sampayo.

It must be serious, for Vasco was absolutely helpless;so much so that Miralda had forbidden him tospeak to me. But that must have been before ourexplanation on the Stella. Would she still forbidhim?

Other points in the interview were by no means soclear as the evidence of Sampayo’s power. Why hadhe been sent to me? Was it merely to ascertain whetherI had escaped the snare laid on the previous night?If so why the request about the Stella?

The two things appeared to be inconsistent, andyet there was a possible explanation. KnowingVasco to be a fool, Sampayo had had to prompt himwith a reason for the call, supposing I had escaped fromthe toils. Vasco was prepared to find me gone. Hehad blurted that out; and Sampayo had probablycoached him with the request for the yacht to concealhis own hope—that I was dead—and at the same timeto give him something to talk about if I were foundat home.

Could that request for the yacht be genuine? Ifso, for what purpose was it wanted? I could notanswer that riddle at present, but I might be able toget the answer from Vasco.

As I was leaving to go to Volheno, I rememberedthe ease with which Barosa’s men had got into theflat, so I told Bryant to get a new lock and a boltand have them fitted that day. I had had enough ofmidnight visitors.

Volheno received me as courteously as ever, butI soon found that he was profoundly perplexed aboutmy conduct.

[128]“I expected you much earlier, Mr. Donnington.”

“I am sorry. I didn’t get to bed till six o’clock andlay late.”

“You’ll understand that I have been anxious tohear your news. You have rendered me a most valuableservice by giving me the information about thatRua Catania house, and you will add immensely tomy obligation if you’ll tell me about this affair lastnight in the Rua Formosa.”

“I have not rendered you any service at all, as amatter of fact. I was coming to see you about yourletter. It was a complete puzzle. I did not writeto you at all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I altogether. But if you received aletter signed with my name giving information, it wasa forgery.”

“Mr. Donnington! Are you serious?”

“Never more sober in my life.”

He rang his table bell. “Tell M. Dagara to come tome.”

“He is out, sir.”

“Tell him to come to me the instant he returns. Ihad no doubt that the signature was yours. I couldn’tdoubt it.”

“Well, you must doubt it now. I declare to youpositively that I did not write the letter which put youon the track of that Rua Catania business.”

“I am bound to say I thought it strange that, havingbeen only a few hours in the city, you should havegot secret information which my people have beentrying in vain to get for weeks.”

I let this go without a reply, but he guessed myreason for silence.

“Had you any such information in your possession?”he asked, shooting a quick questioning glanceat me.

“I think I would rather not answer that question.”

[129]“That means that you had, of course, and makesthe matter all the stranger.”

“Well, I’ll admit I knew something,” I said onsecond thoughts, reflecting that I should have toexplain the previous night’s affair. “These are thefacts. You remember warning me not to be in thestreets at night. I disregarded the warning and onthe second night I got into the middle of a fight betweenthe mob and the police, and had to run for it.By chance I found shelter in that house in the RuaCatania and afterwards learnt the character of theplace.”

“You saw some of these villains there, ofcourse?”

“Yes, and had a bit of trouble, but I got out allright.”

“Do you know the men?”

“Yes,” I said, after considering. “But the positionis this. I only got away by passing my word of honournot to speak of anything or any person I had seenthere.”

“Of course such a pledge given under those circ*mstancesis not to be considered binding. Do you knowthe names of any of them or——”

I shook my head. “I must keep the word I gave,M. Volheno.”

“Would you keep your word to a murderer whospared your life on condition that you kept secret amurder you had seen him commit?”

“That case has not arisen and I would prefer notto discuss questions of casuistry.”

“But these men are assassins and worse. Theyare enemies of the State ripe for any evil work. I mustpress you to tell me all you know.”

“My lips are sealed. And to that fact I owe myescape from worse trouble last night.”

“Well, tell me that then,” he said, with a deepfrown of vexation.

[130]“The letter you received in my name was really intendedto fix on me a charge of having broken mypledge;” and I went on to give him a short and carefullyworded account of what had passed, layingparticular stress upon my treatment by the police.

He put the last point aside with a short promisethat the matter should be sifted, and then questionedme at great length and with all the pressure hecould exert to get me to give the names of the menI had seen, or a description of them.

I resisted all his pressure and then he tried argument.He explained the position of the Government,and their difficulties; the urgent necessity that theyshould know who were their friends and who theirenemies, declaring that my information might be ofpositively vital importance.

In reply I uttered one or two home truths, tellinghim that in my opinion they were trying their handsat repression in a very amateurish fashion; employingenough force to render many classes of the people dissatisfiedand violent, but not enough to keep themin subjection.

We were hammering away at this when Dagaraentered.

“You asked for me, sir?”

“Oh, yes. Bring me the file of personal letters—Ato F. That brings us back from the generalquestion to your part in particular, Mr. Donnington,”he said, when the secretary had gone out again.

“You must not press me any more. I cannot dowhat you ask.”

But he did press me very strongly indeed, andthen Dagara returned with the file of letters.

“I want that which Mr. Donnington wrote aboutthe Rua Catania affair. Just find it.”

I was not a little curious to see whether the copyI had made had been returned.

“I think I left it in my desk,” said Dagara.

[131]“Oh, how many times have I told you to file theseat once.”

“I did file it, sir, but if you remember you askedfor it when you were dictating the reply to Mr. Donnington.”

“Manoel, Manoel, is that any excuse for not refilingit at once?” exclaimed Volheno, and proceeded tolecture the man for his carelessness.

It was well for me that both of them were thusengaged, and I rose and strolled to the window andlooked out.

“Manoel,” was his first name, then, “ManoelDagara”; and in a flash the identity of the “M. D.”of the cipher message was plain.

This sleek, secretive, smooth-tongued secretary whohad parried my questions with the unctuous pleathat his employer enjoined such close silence in regardto his affairs, was in league with Barosa! On suchterms indeed that he even purloined private lettersand carried them to his other masters.

Here in the very eye of the web of Governmentwas a traitor.

Volheno might well say they did not know who werefriends and who enemies.

AS the door closed behind Dagara I returned tomy seat. M. Volheno was obviously annoyedby the incident, but I observed that it was rather thefact of the secretary’s negligence than the consequencesof it which had ruffled his temper.

“You would scarcely believe, judging by this, thetrouble I have taken to train that young man. Sincehis marriage there has been some difference in him;but he is usually as dependable as a machine, anddoes his work with precision, speed and silence.”

“A man of the kind is, of course, essential for suchconfidential affairs as yours,” I replied.

“Of course I can trust him. He has my entireconfidence and is a perfect encyclopædia of details.As a matter of fact he is a distant connexion of mine,an orphan, and I educated him.”

“Such a man has reason to be grateful,” I said.

“I believe he would give his life for me,” declaredVolheno confidently.

Dagara came back then, but without the letter, andI concluded that Maral had failed to send him the copyI had made. While he was making his explanation Iobserved him very carefully.

He was genuinely troubled, as he might well be,indeed; but there was so little in his look and mannersuggestive of roguery or hypocrisy that, despite whatI knew, I set him down as an honest fellow who hadbeen forced against his will into this treachery.

[133]His explanation was that the letter was probablyamong his employer’s papers and that he would makea search for it; and Volheno, trusting him implicitly,accepted the story and sent him away with anotherword or two of censure.

Then he resumed his efforts to get me to disclosewhat I knew, but adopted a different line. He referredto the concessions, and gave me to understandthat, whereas it would help me in regard to them if Itold him things, my refusal would as certainly prejudicemy chances.

I did not attach the value of a rotten orange to them,but I deemed it judicious to make a fine display ofrather indignant surprise.

From that he went a step further—that although hehimself had no doubt that I had acquired the informationinnocently, it was highly probable that those towhom he was bound to report the matter would nottake the same view; and he hinted that in such a caseI might receive a request to leave the country.

That touched me on the raw, but I instantly professeda readiness to leave. I would go that very dayif he wished, but in such a case, of course, the concessionswould be dropped and there would be no plumsin the future for those who looked for them in returnfor help at the present.

And then he grew a little more subtle.

“There is another point, Mr. Donnington. Weshall necessarily take more interest than heretoforein your movements.”

“I am quite indifferent about that,” I replied.“You may quarter your agents in my rooms and on myyacht, if you wish.”

“I don’t mean any such thing as you imply. Butyou have certain friends in Lisbon, and——”

“On your introduction,” I reminded him.

“There is, for instance, the Visconte deLinto.”

[134]“To whom I was presented by the Marquis de Pinsara.”

“Some of his family were known to you previously.The whole of that family occupy a somewhat peculiarposition. You may have heard that the visconte filledfor some years a Court position with a good emolumentand no duties. M. Franco has put an end tothat—as in so many other cases—and this has producedboth discontent and bitterness in some quarters.Between such discontent and actual disaffection,the gap is small; and we cannot help being impressedby a coincidence where we find close friendly relationsbetween some such family and a foreigner who suddenlyacquires such dangerous information as youyourself possess.”

“If you mean that my acquaintance is likely toprejudice them in any way, it shall cease. But it is amare’s nest—nothing more.”

“The prejudice might be against you, Mr. Donnington.The position of that family is—peculiar.The visconte is angry and embittered by the loss ofhis salary. His wife is indiscreet and has often spokenagainst the Government in very strong terms. Theson is a lieutenant in the one regiment in Lisbon someof whose officers are not wholly free from a suspicionof disaffection. And the daughter, a very charmingyoung lady, is engaged to marry another officer of thesame regiment and, further, has one or two friends—oneespecially—who is something of an enigma. Thenyou arrive, and—well, you can draw the inference.”

I smiled. “The inference I draw, M. Volheno, isnot from surmise but from a knowledge of facts.”

“Now don’t you think you would be well advisedto let me have in confidence the information you havegained?”

“I have already explained—I am bound by myword.”

“Then we can do no good by further discussion,”[135]he exclaimed abruptly, and rose to end the interview.

I hesitated a moment whether to tell him that I hadreally come to Lisbon on Miralda’s account, butthought it better to hold my tongue. It would haveshown him the strength of his threat to pack me outof the country.

The interview left me with the extremely unpleasantand disquieting feeling that I was getting out of mydepth in troubled waters which might easily be lashedinto a storm.

Why he had introduced the topic of the de Lintofamily, I could not understand. Yet he must havehad a reason, and I ought to know it. Could I getit from Dagara? He had Volheno’s confidence, andif Barosa and his associates could force him to givethem information, I might be able to squeeze him alsounder a threat of exposure. The plan was infinitelydistasteful; but if Miralda’s safety was at stake, Iwas ready to adopt almost any means to protecther.

She was in some danger, clearly. She had told meherself that, although she was no rebel, she was compromised.And as Volheno suspected her, it mightbe only a short time before discovery would followand suspicion materialize into an actual charge.

Considerably alarmed at this prospect I decided tocome to close grips with Sampayo at once. He mightnot be the only obstacle between Miralda and me, butthe situation would certainly be much clearer theinstant he was out of the way.

I went off in search of him that afternoon, therefore,but learnt that he was in Oporto and would not returnuntil the following day. On my way back I met theVisconte de Linto close to his house and he urged me togo in with them. He was eager to know somethingmore about the concessions and his own prospectsin regard to them.

[136]This proved to be a preface to a long account ofhis grievances against the Dictator. I was a verypatient, sympathetic listener; and my patience wasrewarded, for I succeeded in steering the talk round tothe subject of Sampayo, about whom I wished to knowthe visconte’s real opinion. I appealed to his cupidity,therefore.

“I should very much value your advice on a pointconcerning Major Sampayo,” I said in a confidence-invitingtone. “I am told that his influence with theGovernment is so great that his help alone would beenough to secure me all I want. Of course you’llsee my difficulty. I should be delighted to have myfriends sharing in the good things; but those behindme naturally expect me to limit the number. Now,if he can do everything, of course he is just the manfor their purpose.”

His face fell. “He couldn’t do that, Mr. Donnington.Of course, he is a wealthy man and all that, but——”and he shook his head.

“Scarcely wealthy—in our sense of the word, visconte,”I replied airily. “Not wealthy compared with men whoare prepared to put fifty or a hundred thousandpounds into a single scheme.”

“Will your friends go that extent?”

“If the concessions are such as I desire, I should beready to do much more than that myself.” I spokeintentionally as if such a sum were a mere bagatelle.

“You must be a very wealthy man, then, Mr.Donnington,” he exclaimed.

I smiled blandly and shrugged my shoulders, andthen became very earnest. “I could of course financethe whole thing myself; and if I could find some onehere in Lisbon to co-operate with me honourably andstraightforwardly—he must of course be a man ofthe highest honour—I might do so; and should ofcourse leave all the negotiations here to him. Well,the question is then whether Major Sampayo is such[137]a man. I place great reliance upon your opinion,as he is to marry your daughter.”

His perplexity at this was almost comical. He sawthat his own chance of plunder was in danger, anddid not know how to save it without running down theman who was to marry Miralda.

“You place me in a great difficulty, sir,” he saidnervously.

“Let me tell you something in confidence, then.I do not like Major Sampayo. Of course in businessmatters we do not allow such personal considerationsto determine our actions, although they may influenceus. I would much rather work with such a man asyourself for instance. But as his name is known tothose behind me, of course any decision I may makeand my reason for it might reach him.”

His alarm at this was obvious. “I—I am afraidI cannot say anything.”

“Of course as your son-in-law, his success wouldbenefit you. An indirect benefit, perhaps, but stilla benefit.”

“Our conversation has taken a very unexpectedturn, Mr. Donnington. I was under the impressionyou desired my influence in any event.”

“It may be a question between yours or his,” Isaid, pressing him further into the corner. “That iswhy I have spoken as I have.”

“I—I really cannot say anything. You must decidefor yourself. I should be delighted to be associatedwith you, but—but——” he shook his head and paused.

“But you are afraid of Sampayo?” I finished forhim.

“Mr. Donnington!” he exclaimed with no littleindignation.

“Don’t take offence, please, at least until you haveheard me out. Will you give me your word of honournot to speak of what I wish to tell you?”

“Yes, certainly.”

[138]“In coming to Lisbon I had another object besidesthese concessions. I met your daughter in Paris, andmy disappointment was intense when I found that shewas betrothed to Major Sampayo. I had hoped thatin all my affairs I should have enjoyed the advantageof your help—as that of a relative by marriage.”

He tossed up his hands and stared at me in speechlesssurprise.

“Since I have been here—you must pardon myspeaking very freely—it has come to my knowledgethat Sampayo has forced himself upon you by reasonof his knowledge of certain matters.”

“My dear Mr. Donnington——” He could get nofurther, and jumped up from his chair and began topace the room in extreme agitation.

“My reason for speaking in this way is to ask youone very vital question. If Major Sampayo were to relinquishhis claims to your daughter’s hand, wouldyou be willing to honour me by allowing me to pleadmy own cause with her?”

“I should be only too——” he cried impulsivelybut checked himself in the middle of the sentence, andshook his head again. “It is out of the question; outof the question.”

“I am answered, on the one point. Now, will yougo a step further and tell me why you deem it out ofthe question?”

“I really cannot discuss the matter. I really cannot,”he said nervously. “You must excuse me.”

“I cannot press you, of course. But will you thinkit over and let me see you again?”

“I am afraid I must say it would be quite useless,Mr. Donnington.”

“Well, the position may have changed when wenext meet,” I said as I rose. “And now, will youlet me give you a hint on another matter. M. Volhenois my friend, as you know, and when I was with himto-day I learnt that your attitude toward the Government[139]is a subject of close and watchful interest. Youand all in this house will be well advised to be on yourguard;” and without giving him time for the alarm inhis eyes to crystallize into questions, I left him.

As I crossed the hall his wife met me. She greetedme very warmly and taking me to the saloon askedme to wait a moment for her.

Before she returned, however, Miralda and Inezcame in. Both were surprised to find me there, andjudging by their manner, their surprise was not so greatas their displeasure.

“You are still in Lisbon, Mr. Donnington?” saidInez coldly.

“Obviously. Does that surprise you?”

“More than I can express. Doesn’t it, Miralda?”

“I don’t know,” murmured Miralda who was verymuch disturbed.

“I have no intention of leaving, madame,” I saidto Inez.

“No doubt your correspondence detains you?”

“My correspondence?” I repeated.

“And your close association with M. Volheno andthe Government.”

“Inez!” exclaimed Miralda, under her breath.

I understood then. They had heard part of theRua Catania business, but not the sequel; and Inezhad been using it to poison Miralda against me. I wasnot unwilling to see the result. “It is well known thatM. Volheno is friendly toward me.”

“There has been an exchange of letters betweenyou, I believe.”

“Well, scarcely. He wrote to me and I have writtento him.” Miralda started uneasily, looked acrossquickly, and then dropped her eyes.

“I have seen your letter to him and have beenspeaking to Miralda about it.”

“You will permit me to doubt that you have seenthe letter I wrote?”

[140]“I have a copy of it;” and she handed it to me.“You do not deny that that is what you wrote.”

I glanced over it. It was in her own handwriting.“Word for word, as nearly as I can recollect,” I said.

Inez smiled derisively in triumph. “That is how anEnglishman keeps his word,” she sneered.

“I have kept my word just as an Englishman would,madame.”

But Miralda was both perplexed and troubled. “Doyou really mean you wrote such a letter, Mr. Donnington?”she asked.

“It is a fact that I wrote a letter addressed to M.Volheno and couched in those identical terms. Underthe circ*mstances it was the best course for me toadopt.”

Miralda caught her breath and winced as if I hadstruck her.

“Circ*mstances,” echoed Inez, with a fine scorn.

“But you had pledged your honour not to reveal aword of this,” said Miralda, hesitatingly. “Youcannot mean that you broke it deliberately in thisway?”

“That is perfectly plain,” declared Inez. “It isonly what I told you.”

But Miralda shook her head and laid her hand onInez’ arm, as she appealed to me. “Mr. Donnington?”

“You know enough of us English, mademoiselle,to judge whether, having given my word, I shouldbreak it.”

“There is no doubt,” said Inez, with a contemptuoustoss of the head.

“You at least have condemned me. And you,mademoiselle?”

“If you admit you broke your word, I should beforced to believe you; but——” and she threw up herhands with a frown of perplexity.

“But I have not admitted it,” I said.

[141]“How can you say that in the face of this letter?”cried Inez, her fingers shaking with anger as she heldit out.

“Wait, Inez. You can explain this, Mr. Donnington?”

“I cannot explain anything——”

“There, what did I say?” interposed Inez, withcontemptuous scorn.

“To those who have already condemned me withoutexplanation.”

Miralda looked at me steadily. “I have not condemnedyou,” she said slowly.

“Then I tell you at once that the letter I wrote waswritten with the full sanction of a man whose approvaleven the Contesse Inglesia will regard as important—Dr.Barosa.”

“Dr. Barosa!” they exclaimed together, but in verydifferent accents. Miralda’s betokened surprise, Inez’scorn and disbelief.

“It was written last night in his presence, long afterthe raid on the Rua Catania house and when he hadthoroughly satisfied himself and others that I had notbroken my word.”

“I find that very difficult of belief,” cried Inez.

“Inez! How dare you?” cried Miralda impetuously,and then winced and flushed slightly in someconfusion, as her friend turned sharply upon her witha meaning glance.

“Mr. Donnington is to be congratulated upon havingso zealous a champion,” she said coldly.

But it was I, not she, who profited by this shaft.Miralda’s face set and her eyes shone as she held outher hand to me. “I owe you an apology, Mr. Donnington,for having stooped to listen to this slander. Youhave my word for it that I will not do it again.”

As I took her hand, Inez coughed suggestively.

Miralda understood and turned quickly from me.“There is a limit to what I will endure even from you,[142]Inez. You have reached it now;” and Inez, being aperson of discretion, held her tongue.

I left them, asking Miralda to make my excuses toher mother, and returned to my rooms in a glow ofpleasure at the proof of Miralda’s confidence in me, andher zeal in risking even a breach with Inez on myaccount.

At my rooms I found a letter marked “Urgent andconfidential.”

I guessed of course that it had some concern with theconcessions, and after puzzling over the unknownhandwriting, as one will at times, I opened it withoutmuch interest.

But I read it with the closest concern. It was fromVasco, and it gave me the very facts I was so eager tolearn.

VASCO’S letter was very long, and so rambling andinconsequent in parts as to be almost incoherent.It was obviously written under the impulse of intensefeeling, despair indeed; and was in response to mysolicitation of confidence and offer of help.

“I don’t believe you can help me even if you would,and I don’t suppose you’ll care to try when you knowthe mess I am in. But you said you would, and adrowning man catches at straws. I am at the end ofthings; utterly broken up and ruined; and bar writingto you I have only two alternatives—to shootmyself or get more hopelessly into the power of theman who has done a lot to drag me down. That’sthe mood in which I write to you, and the reason Iwrite. If you won’t or can’t help me, say so at once.”

That was the preface to his ugly story.

Put in a few words he was hopelessly in Sampayo’spower. He was a gambler and a hard drinker, andSampayo had used both these weaknesses to ruin him.And ruin him he certainly had, using a craft and cunningworthy of the man.

Having got Vasco hopelessly in debt to him andothers, Sampayo had succeeded in having him placedin a position where he had charge of a considerablesum of money subscribed by the officers of the regiment.He had then dunned him for payment and set[144]others to do the same, and Vasco had been weak enoughto use this money. Sampayo was of course on thewatch, and had discovered the theft within a fewhours of its commission.

To frighten such a weakling was easy work; andSampayo had at once engineered matters so that themoney had to be instantly forthcoming. Scared outof his wits, Vasco had admitted his act, and the scoundrel,in the guise of friendship, had offered to find thesum on condition that Vasco gave him a writtenconfession.

Glad to escape on any terms, Vasco had only tooreadily agreed, and exposure had thus been averted.This was some six months previously. For two ofthem Sampayo showed nothing but friendship. Thenthe persecution started. Vasco was drawn into therevolutionary net and forced to commit himself. Thenext step was that Miralda should be involved. Tosave Vasco she had yielded; and after another intervalthe demand that she should consent to marrySampayo had followed.

She had resisted this strenuously—she had beenhome from Paris only about a month at the time;but the utmost pressure had been brought to bearupon her, not only by the visconte and Vasco, but byBarosa and the leaders of the revolutionary party.

For two months she had held out, and had yieldedonly a month before my arrival.

How this part of the letter stirred me will be readilyunderstood. After my talk with Miralda on the Stella,it was not mere coxcombry on my part to believethat, had I come only a month earlier, I should havefound her ready to receive me on the same footing asin those weeks in Paris.

I could understand now the reason for Inez’ warning,Barosa’s references, Sampayo’s instant jealousy, andthat regret of the viscontesse that I had not comesooner. They had known the reason for Miralda’s[145]stubborn resistance, and had feared that my arrivalwould lead to her rebellion.

Vasco’s immediate request was that I would lend himsome money—about five hundred pounds—but hefreely admitted that even if I consented, the moneywould not free him from Sampayo.

I sent him a note at once that I would do what hewanted and would have the money ready for him if hewould come to me the following evening.

But I made it a condition that he should go on boardthe Stella at once and remain there until the time forour interview. I did not mean to give Sampayo achance of frightening him into admitting he had toldme. I told Bryant to put the letter into Vasco’s ownhands and to go with him to the yacht, and I wrote aline to my skipper with instructions.

It proved to be a prudent precaution. Sampayoreturned about midday and as I found out afterwardswent everywhere in search of Vasco, before going tohis own quarters, where I was waiting.

He had learnt meanwhile that his attempt againstme had failed, but he was genuinely surprised to seeme when he entered.

“This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Donnington,”he said.

“I am sure of the unexpectedness,” I replied drily,taking no notice of the offer of his hand.

He drew himself up stiffly. “Am I to understandthat your refusal of my hand is intentional?”

“Am I to understand on my side that you made theoffer of it from any feeling of friendship?”

“That is a very extraordinary question.”

“It is not altogether an ordinary visit, Major Sampayo.It has more to do with business of a sort thanfriendship. I am right in thinking you do not feel verywell disposed to me.”

“Oh, really I have no time just now for talk of thatkind. I have been away from the city and have a great[146]press of matters to attend to. Be good enough tostate your business briefly.”

He said this in a very curt sharp tone and he crossedto a writing desk, unlocked it and began to turn oversome papers.

I made no reply, but leant back in my chair andlighted a cigar. My silence worried him. He keptup a pretence of being very busy, opening a letteror two and making some notes as if ignoring mypresence.

Then under the pretence of fetching a book, he roseand assumed surprise to find me still in the room.“Oh, are you still here?”

“Yes, still here, as you see—waiting.”

“Your conduct is very extraordinary. You aretrying my courtesy to the utmost limit.”

“On the contrary, I am only waiting until you havetime and inclination to give me undivided attention.By all means finish these pressing matters first.”

“Well, then, state your business at once.”

“It may take some time,” I said with an apologeticsmile. I could not resist the pleasure of playing withhim a little, as a punishment for his conduct.

“If it has anything to do with the concessions youare after, you may spare me and yourself the wasteof time in discussing them. I have decided to havenothing to do with the matter.”

“Don’t you think I could persuade you to changeyour mind?”

“Certainly not. The Marquis de Pinsara spoke tome to endeavour to obtain my influence for you, but Ideclined. I will not be mixed up in an affair whichI do not consider quite clean.”

“I assure you there is nothing in it which wouldsoil your hands, Major Sampayo,” I said, with justsufficient emphasis on the “your” to rouse him.

“I consider that remark extremely offensive, sir,”he replied hotly. “And you will be good enough to[147]understand that I do not allow any man, Englishmanor not, to make offensive remarks to me. I do notsuppose you have come to insult me deliberately.”

His manner was very hectoring; and as it is sometimesamusing to allow a bully to believe he can bullyyou, I allowed him to enjoy this belief for a while.

With a start of affected nervousness I exclaimedquickly, “Oh, I’m sure—I trust——” as if beginningan apology, and then stopped and lowered my eyes.

“Then be good enough to be more guarded in whatyou say and how you say it.”

I hesitated as if much impressed and rather cowedby this and at a loss what to say. “These concessions,of course....” I stammered when he broke in.

“You have my answer in regard to them. It isfinal. And now I must ask you to leave me.”

I put in a little comedy stroke, by tossing up myhands, glancing half-appealingly at him, and givinga little sigh of regret.

“You can do no good by remaining, Mr. Donnington.You asked me just now whether I had offered you myhand in any spirit of friendliness. I will tell you now,I did not. I have no wish for your friendship or youracquaintance.”

“But you expressed a desire that we should meetagain and I—I made quite sure——” I broke offa*gain and let the sentence falter out in an indistinctmurmur.

“You know my decision now at any rate. Youunderstand our language quite well enough for mymeaning to be perfectly plain.”

I was rather surprised at his attitude. He appearedto have quite reassured himself that we had not metbefore and that he had nothing to fear from me. Andyet he had set that trap to get me into trouble. Icould only conclude therefore that my present apparentfear of him led him to think he could safely intimidateme. So I dug the spur in.

[148]“You said you would welcome a chance of exchangingour mutual experiences in South Africa.”

But he did not feel the spur. “I have told you Ido not desire your acquaintance at all,” he said warmly,adding with a sneer: “Are you Englishmen accustomedto force yourselves upon one in the way youare doing now?”

I let even this go in silence, and he crossed andthrew the door open. “Now, sir,” he said, in barrack-yardstyle.

I rose then. “I think you had better not insiston my going at present.”

“I don’t care what you think. Go. That’s all Imean.”

“You are deeply involved in a certain conspiracy,Major Sampayo. I have absolute knowledge thatconcerns you closely.”

“Oh, this is blackmail, eh?” he cried. “Youwant to force me to help you by threatening me. Well,I refuse point-blank. Give what information you like.You are a spy.”

I gave him a steady look and answered very deliberately.“You mistake me. I did not give theinformation which led to that raid in the Rua Catania,but—I know who did.”

I got right home with that thrust, and as he glaredat me, that old perplexed, speculative fear of me camecreeping back into his eyes. He tried to fight it back byencouraging his rage. “Are you going to force meto kick you out, you spy?” he cried fiercely.

“A spy is an object of contempt, quite kickable, ofcourse; but Dr. Barosa would probably regard atraitor as infinitely more despicable.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, even moreangrily, but also with more fear.

I paused. “You forged the letter in my name.I have the proofs here;” and I took out the letter andheld it up.

[149]He burst into a loud scoffing laugh, the effort of whichwas obvious. “You must have lost your senses.”Even his voice was beginning to grow unsteady.

Having frightened him to this extent, I took achance. It was certain of course that he must havecarefully practised the copying of my handwritingbefore he forged the letter, so I glanced round significantlyat his desk and said: “You are forgetting thatyou have not been in this room for more than thirtyhours.”

It was an excellent bluff. He was scared rightthrough. He changed colour, and the quick lookwhich he shot involuntarily at the desk was instinctwith fear. It was several seconds before he couldrecover himself sufficiently even to bluster.

“I’ll have no more of this,” he said with an oath andcame toward me threateningly.

I knew him to be a wretched coward and was notin the least doubt that if he laid hands on me I couldmore than hold my own; so I let him come, my eyesfixed very steadily upon his. About two paces fromme he stopped.

“Are you going?” he asked.

I made no answer and no movement.

“I’m in no mood to be trifled with.”

I let this go also without reply. I kept my eyessteadily on his face, and saw the struggle betweenhis rage and his fear, and at one moment his rage allbut won. His face set viciously and he tried to concealhis intention under an assumption of contempt.

“You are too contemptible to touch,” he said, ashe moved back and then turned to his desk.

For a moment he misled me. I thought he meant nomore by the insult than a cover for his cowardice.But I soon changed my opinion. His back was towardme, and I saw that while pretending to turn over hispapers, his left hand went stealthily to a drawer. Iguessed his intention.

[150]The purpose in his mind when he had meditated thatattack had not been to put me out of the room, but tosecure the proofs of his treachery which I said were inmy possession. He was looking now for a weaponwith which to force them from me.

To test him, as well as to interrupt his search, I madea feint of leaving.

“I will go now,” I said and stepped toward the door.

“No, by Heaven, not until this thing is cleared,” hecried, and rushing to the door he locked it, pocketedthe key, and hurried back to the desk.

Knowing the man, I had of course taken the precautionof having my own weapon with me, and wasabout to take it out when another thought struck me.

Instead of the revolver, I took out a letter from theCorsican, Prelot, which had been forwarded to methat morning.

“What is there to be cleared up?” I asked, in thesame steady, stern tone I had used before.

He found his revolver then and holding it behindhim turned round. “You have made a lying chargeagainst me. You say you have the proofs. Give methem.”

“I refuse to do anything of the sort.”

“I think you will,” he replied, with a cunning leer,and he covered me.

“Do you dare to threaten me?”

“Hand them over at once. Don’t fool me.”

I hesitated a moment.

“I give you five seconds,” he thundered.

“I had certain information in this letter,” and Iheld up the Corsican’s.

“Give it to me.”

I folded it up and threw it close to him.

With a chuckle he stooped and picked it up, andas he began to read it I took out my own weapon.

The door was locked and he might be really dangerouswhen he learnt the peril which menaced him.

MY precaution proved to be unnecessary.

As Sampayo read the first page of the letterhis expression was merely one of perplexity. Prelothad begun with a recital of the places he had visitedsince writing to me before, and this told nothing ofany significance.

Sampayo read it hurriedly and turning the pageglanced down at the signature.

He started violently, and stared at the words forthe space of a few seconds like a man bewitched. Thehectic flush of triumphant cunning changed to a deathlygrey. His hand shook so that the paper crackled;then his teeth began to chatter; the trembling spreadto his limbs, and the whole of his big frame quiveredand shook till he reeled under the shock and had tocling to the table for support.

His eyes all this time were fixed glassily on the signatureof the letter; his breath was laboured and stertorousas he gasped for air; and he made frantic effortsto fight against the palsy of terror. He failed. Andat length the revolver dropped from his nervelesshand, the letter fluttered to the floor, and with a groanhe collapsed into the chair near him helpless, inert,and unconscious, his bullocky head lolling over theback with gaping mouth and staring but unseeingeyes.

I laid him down on the floor, and pocketed hisrevolver lest, when he recovered, he might have a fancyto put a bullet in me. Then I helped myself to the key,[152]and having unlocked the door, put the key in my ownpocket.

Next I picked up Prelot’s letter and was beginningto hunt round for some brandy when it occurred tome to look in his desk to make sure that he had noother weapons and also to see if there was any evidencethat he had been practising my handwriting. A hastysearch gave me just what I wanted. Hidden awayin a small drawer I found some sheets of paper on oneof which was the draft of the letter he had written inhis own handwriting; while among the others werehis first attempts at the forgery and with them aletter of mine written to Volheno announcing myarrival in Lisbon.

I concluded that Sampayo had been disturbed athis work and had put the papers away hurriedly andforgotten them.

Lastly I turned my attention to restoring him. Ifound a decanter of brandy and gave him some. Thespirit soon began to take effect, and then I lit anothercigar and sat down to wait until he should be readyto resume operations.

When at length he sat up he passed his handacross his eyes in dazed bewilderment, as a man willwhen awakened suddenly from an ugly dream. Thenwith a start he began to stare about the floor as iflooking for the letter, and not seeing it he gave adeep sigh of intense relief, apparently convinced thatthe thing was no more than a nightmare horror.

“If you’re looking for that letter, I have it,” Isaid quietly.

With a shuddering start at my voice—I was behindhim and he had not seen me—he swung round andstared at me, and began to shake again as his terrorreturned.

“Here, you’d better have some more of this;” andI poured him out a wine-glassful of brandy and gave ithim.

[153]He made one gulp of it and sat leaning forward,trying to think. Presently he scrambled to hisfeet and sank with a sigh into the chair, leant hisarms on the desk and buried his face in his hands.

For some few minutes—five probably—he remainedin this attitude of utter dejection. Then he let hishands fall on the desk, turned his head slightly so thathe could see exactly where I was, and shifted his positionso that the action of his left hand should be hiddenby his body.

He was reaching for his revolver of course. A startand a grunt of dismay announced his disappointment.

“If you feel steady enough to shoot, you’re fit totalk,” I said sharply; “and we’ll get this thingover.”

There was a long pause before he spoke. “Whatis it?” he murmured then, slowly and sullenly.

I gave him another shock then. Imitating Prelot’svoice as nearly as I could recall it, I stamped my feetand called out, “Ah, Jean Dufoire, at last!”

The effect was electrical. He sprang up and turnedround in a positive agony of terror.

I laughed. “I began to think you might haveforgotten your name.”

With a scowl of hate he flung a bitter curse at me.

“Well, it’s roused you anyway, and now listento me. You are either going to do exactly what I tellyou, or Lucien Prelot and Jean Dufoire will be faceto face before this time to-morrow. Now, which is itto be?”

“Who is Jean Dufoire?” he asked, after a longpause.

“If that’s your line, I’m going.”

He let me reach the door and felt in his pocket tomake sure that he had the key; but when I openedit he started. “Wait,” he said.

“Which is it to be? Quick,” I said sharply.

“Tell me what you want.”

[154]“Which is it to be?” I repeated.

“I’ll do what you wish.” The words came slowlyas if the utterance of each one of them was a torture.

I returned to my seat. “In the first place, youhave a confession of Lieutenant de Linto’s. Give itme.”

With shaking fingers he unlocked a drawer of thedesk and from a secret recess in it took out a paper andheld it out.

I pushed a chair half-way between us. “Put itthere.” He obeyed. “Now write an admission thatyou incited this young fool to take the money havingwon large amounts from him by cheating at cards.”

“I didn’t.”

“I haven’t forgotten Jean Dufoire’s reputation.Write what I say—and sign it Jean Dufoire, now knownas Major Francisco Sampayo.”

He fought against this, but in the end yielded.

“Now a confession that you wrote the letter in myname giving information about the house in the RuaCatania.”

Against this he fought more stubbornly than before,but I showed him the papers I had taken from his desk,vowing I would take them straight to Barosa, andthen he gave in. The sweat was standing in greatbeads on his forehead as he placed the papers on thechair.

“Now a letter to the Visconte de Linto and one toMademoiselle Dominguez renouncing all claim to herhand.”

“I will not,” he cried with an oath. “My hand shallrot first.”

“It will do that soon after Lucien Prelot has foundyou.”

“I will not,” he repeated, flinging down the pen.“I dare not.”

I took the slip of paper and wrote, speaking thewords as I pencilled them. “‘Jean Dufoire is now[155]known as Major Francisco Sampayo. You will findhim in Lisbon.’ That telegram I shall send withinfive minutes of leaving here,” I said.

With a groan he threw up his hands distractedlyand rising began to pace up and down. “I dare not.I dare not,” he exclaimed.

I watched him very closely and observed that hismovements, at first erratic as if at the dictates of hisoverpowering agitation, had a method suggestive of apurpose. Each turn he took brought him a littlenearer to me. So I stood up and while pocketing thepapers he had written, I held my weapon in readiness,questioning him the while.

“What do you mean by dare not?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make it plain.”

“No. There is a limit to my compliance. I darenot do this.”

“What is it you are afraid of?”

“I can’t tell you that. My lips are sealed.”

“Oh come, you weren’t afraid to betray your associateswhen you thought to get me into a mess. Whybe afraid now, to get yourself out of one?”

He was pacing in my direction now and I made ahalf turn from him as if to glance at his desk.

“I would do it if I could, Heaven knows. You’vegot me in a corner, but——” And at that instant hesprang forward to grab me by the throat. I wasfully prepared, and instead of getting his hands on mehe threw them up and staggered back from my levelledrevolver.

“Don’t try that again,” I said between my teeth.“And now do what I have told you—and do it atonce.”

He abandoned his intention to try force, and satdown again at the desk, but he would not write theletters.

“I dare not. I dare not. You must do what you[156]will. I dare not,” he repeated, over and over again inanswer to my threats.

This persistent refusal perplexed me. That he wasin fear of his life I knew, for I had convinced him Imeant to set his enemy on his track. But there wasobviously something or some one of whom he waseven more afraid than of me. I could think of onlyone man—Barosa. But why of him? And whyonly in regard to breaking his engagement to Miralda?

“Why are you so determined to marry MademoiselleDominguez?”

“I am not. I will take any oath you like not tomarry her.”

“Then it is only the written renouncement youshrink from?”

“I dare not do it.”

“Then write a letter to her asking her to releaseyou and to keep the whole thing secret.”

“Why are you so set on this?” he asked.

“Don’t question me,” I snapped angrily.

He sat thinking in moody despair. He might welldespair being between the upper and nether millstones.Then at length he took up the pen and began to write,but stopped and tore up the sheet.

“You can tell her,” he said.

I renewed my threats, promising secrecy, but hestruggled hard and at length I got up and went to thedoor, declaring I would at once dispatch the telegramI had drafted.

“Give me time,” he said then. “Let me have aweek—three days—one day——” he pleaded as Ishook my head. And at last he gave in.

“Now for my last condition,” I said as I took theletter. “You will leave the city at once—to-day.”

“Give me more time. I shall go of course afterthis, but I must have some time—two days at least—tomake arrangements.”

“Not one hour after to-day. If you are still in[157]the city to-morrow, this message will go to LucienPrelot.”

And with that final shot I left him.

There was only a very small fly in the amber of mysatisfaction at the result of the interview. I had securedall I wanted. I had caused the rupture of theengagement to Miralda, had put an end to his holdover her brother, had obtained the proofs of histreachery toward Barosa, and had given him anotice to quit which he would not dare to disobey.

The only point where I had failed had been in learningthat strange secret at the back of his fears which hadmade him refuse to write the letter to the visconte.It was in some way connected with the betrothal;but beyond that, I could not even hazard a guess.

But I was in too high spirits at what I had gainedto worry over the minor failure. Indeed, the prospectof a secret understanding with Miralda was so alluringthat I was more than half disposed to be glad thatthe thing had taken this particular course, and decidednot to lose a minute before telling her thenews.

I was hurrying off to her when I remembered mypromise to have the money for Vasco. I had to getit from the bank, and while I was there it occurred tome to put the other papers I had forced from Sampayoin safe custody. I sealed them up and left them inthe bank’s custody, with instructions that the packetwas not to be given to any one—only to myself inperson.

This precaution started another line of thought.Sampayo was at bay, utterly desperate, fighting forall he cared for in life, and I must reckon with thatand be on my guard.

What was he likely to do? He had attempted mylife once, even while he was only in doubt whetherI could harm him. What would he do now that heknew and was desperate? I decided not to run the[158]risk of being alone in my rooms until I knew that hewas out of Lisbon.

Instead of going straight to Miralda, therefore, Idrove down to the quay and sent off a message by aboatman to Burroughs, my second in command onthe Stella, to come to my rooms with a couple of thecrew.

Jack Burroughs was just the man for such a purpose—a’Varsity man of good birth but very small means,with the roving instinct strongly developed, he hadbeen half over the globe in search of adventure; andhaving a love of the sea, had jumped at my suggestionthat he should come with me, partly as companionand partly to qualify himself to take command of theStella later on.

Having dispatched the message I drove back tothe visconte’s house. I was in luck, for Miralda wasalone when the servant showed me into the room.

She was not surprised by my visit and received mewith some little restraint. Her eyes were troubled andher hand trembled as she placed it in mine.

“I am glad to find you alone.”

“I was expecting you, Mr. Donnington, but I amafraid I am sorry you have come.”

“Expecting me? But no one except myself knewI was coming.”

“You are the bearer of a letter, I think.”

“Are you reading my thoughts? You amaze me.”

She shook her head and smiled sadly. “It is unfortunatelynothing occult. But I will ask you notto give me the letter.”

I drew a deep breath of surprise. “Do you knowwhat is in it?”

“No—but please do not question me. You are mixingin matters which you cannot understand and I cannotexplain. But do not give me the letter—I—I could notread it.”

“Will you not say why? This is so extraordinary.”

[159]“I know it must seem so to you. Oh, why do younot leave the city?” she burst out impulsively.

“But the news I bring is good news—at least I hope——”

“Please, please,” she interposed, holding up herhand.

“But if you don’t know the contents of the letterwhy mustn’t you read it?”

“Don’t question me. I cannot tell you. I would if Imight—I am sure you know that. But I cannot.”

“Who told you I was coming?”

She shook her head again, growing more and moredistressed. “Don’t offer it to me even. I must takeit if you do but must not read it.”

I sat thinking a moment. I was almost dumbfoundedby this sudden check at the moment whenI had been so full of confidence. I had hopedthat the instant she saw the letter she would see thatthe barrier between us was swept away for good.And now she would not even look at it.

She dared not, just as Sampayo had not dared towrite the letter to the visconte. Was there anyconnexion between her fear and his? Was this furtherevidence of that mysterious power in the background?

“Very well,” I said at length; and at the words theexpression of her eyes changed.

But there are more ways than one of gaining an end,and I was resolved she should know the contents of theletter before I left; and once more I pressed thoseBeira concessions into my service. I chatted at randomfor a while and then spoke of them.

“You’ll be glad to hear that I am getting along allright in that matter,” I said in a casual tone.

“I am glad if it will mean that you will be able toleave Lisbon,” she replied, a little suspicious as towhich concessions I meant.

I said a lot about Beira and the colony until I hadcleared the doubt from her eyes. “I’ll tell you how[160]the matter stands,” I said then, and added quickly,not heeding her attempts to interrupt me: “There wasa man here who tried to forestall me by using secretmeans he possessed to force others, and to-day I haveseen him and he has given me a letter definitely renouncinghis claims and by to-morrow he will have leftLisbon for good.”

She understood, but instead of showing relief orpleasure, her eyes clouded again with trouble, and shesat with drooped head biting her lip and pressing herhands tightly together in agitation.

“Have you no word of—of congratulation?”

Her congratulation was a deep sigh, a gesture ofdespair, and a scarcely audible whisper: “It is toolate.”

“No!” I exclaimed firmly. “I don’t and won’tbelieve that. And I hold too strong a hand now forany one to beat me.”

My firmness told. She looked up with the dawnof hope in her eyes, and if I could read it, somethingbeside hope, something far dearer to me.

“My hand on it,” I said, stretching it out.

She was about to place hers in it, when the servantannounced Inez. On watchdog duty again, of course.I gave her the letter and whispered quickly: “Takethis now. You know what is in it. I have othernews for you—I have rescued Vasco.”

I STAYED a few minutes after Inez’ arrival sothat she should not think she had scared me away,and I left the house more in love with Miralda thanever and convinced that had she been free the interviewwould have had a very different result.

I saw Barosa’s sinister influence behind. Sampayohad evidently told him at once what I had done; hehad instantly sent instructions to Miralda to take theletter but not to read it; and his power over her wastoo great for her to dare to disobey.

To break down his influence appeared impossible;it meant a fight against the whole forces of this infernalconspiracy. And then a somewhat wild, harum-scarumalternative occurred to me—to carry her awayfrom it all on the Stella. Vasco was out of danger, andso far as she herself was in danger from the Government,she could smile at it when we were once in old England.

Vasco was already on the yacht. Could I use himto get her there? And if I did, would she resent mytrick or come to view it as the best, if not the only wayout?

Burroughs was at my rooms when I arrived, andhe was just the man to help me in such a plan; butI would not broach it until I had had more time tothink it round.

I was still undecided when Barosa arrived. I guessedhis object but greeted him pleasantly. He was,however, too engrossed by the reasons which had[162]brought him to make any sort of pretence, and themoment we had shaken hands, he plunged into thesubject.

“I have come to see you about Major Sampayo, Mr.Donnington. I regret to hear that you and he havequarrelled.”

“Scarcely quarrelled, doctor. At least I shouldnot use that term; and pardon me if I say that it isa strictly personal matter.”

“I cannot regard it so; that is why I have come. Youhave threatened to use certain information you possessand have required him to leave Lisbon at once.”

“I should put it very differently, of course.”

“We need not split hairs,” he replied bluntly.

“I do not care to be addressed quite so curtly, Dr.Barosa. If you wish to tell me anything or to makeany sort of request, I am willing to listen in a friendlyspirit. But not otherwise.”

“I have no wish to offend, but the matter is serious.I have explained to you once before that we are undergreat obligations to Major Sampayo, and any actiondirected against him is felt to be directed equallyagainst us.”

“Of course I cannot take that view. I have nothingto do with your aims or concerns or plans. Myaction is strictly individual. But perhaps you willput in plain terms exactly what you wish.”

“That your persecution of Major Sampayo shallcease.”

“Persecution! There is no persecution. Are youaware that he even attempted my life?”

“Not for a moment, Mr. Donnington. You referto the Rua Catania letter. That has all been explained.He was not satisfied that you would keep your pledge ofsecrecy and intended that merely as a test.”

“Is it possible that he has persuaded you to believethat?”

“Otherwise I should not say it, Mr. Donnington.”

[163]“Well, I don’t, and nothing would ever make me.He forged my name to the letter and managed to letyou know of it somehow in his belief that you woulddeal with me as a liar and traitor. I know the man.”

“So do I. And the fact that he warned us of theraid so that nothing should be discovered satisfies meof his good faith.”

“Very well, then, we must be content to differ aboutit.”

“You will not forget that he had stronger cause fordistrusting you than we had. We believed that youhad come here for very different reasons fromthose openly given—reasons which touched him veryclosely indeed.”

“Did he think I came after him, do you mean?”I asked with a smile.

“No, of course not,” he replied, nettled by mysmile,—as, indeed, I intended he should be. “Hebelieved that you had come on a very different person’saccount.”

Why did he fight shy of mentioning Miralda byname? And why was he himself so interested inforcing Sampayo to marry her, when the man himselfhad offered to take any oath I wished that hewould not? “I don’t care a rap what he believed,”I said, after a moment’s pause.

“But we care, Mr. Donnington?”

I paused and then asked sharply: “What isMiralda Dominguez to you, Dr. Barosa?”

The question took him by surprise, and the suddenlight which gleamed in his eyes answered my question.

“She is nothing to me, personally, of course,” heprotested.

“You misunderstand my question. What is sheto you and your friends?” It was not prudent yetto show him that I believed I had guessed his secretof secrets.

“She is one of us, Mr. Donnington. She is in a[164]position to render our cause valuable help, as she hasalready done. It is more to the point to ask what sheis to you.”

I had another shaft ready, but to prepare theway for the surprise I paused, gave a shrug and asmile of indifference, and then said quickly: “Ihope to make her my wife.”

Once more the sudden flame in his eyes confirmedmy former diagnosis.

“That will not be possible, Mr. Donnington.”

“We shall see. I doubt if I am more easily turnedfrom a course I have once taken than you yourself.I’ll tell you how I view the thing, for it is the pithand marrow of this business with Sampayo. I camehere for the express purpose of asking her to becomemy wife. I found her promised to Major Sampayo.I set my wits to work and my money, and ascertainedthat she had been driven to compromise herselfin your politics. By means of money I succeededin learning how she had been forced to join you. Mywhip-hand over Sampayo led him to admit that hedid not really wish to marry her—and I found thatyou were really the background force which madehim shrink from an open rupture with her. He agreedto a secret one and gave me a letter to her. I tookthat letter and she absolutely refused to open it. Isaw, therefore, that Sampayo had been to you andthat you had ordered her not to read it. Now I’vespoken frankly and invite similar freedom from you.Why did you do this?”

“I cannot explain to you without entering intomatters that are secret—political matters, I mean,of course,” he replied, making the addition quickly.

“Very good. Then you come to me and tell methat I must not do as I please with regard to Sampayo.You call it persecution. I apply that term toMademoiselle Dominguez’ treatment. Cease that,give her back her freedom of action, and I’ve done[165]with Sampayo. He can stop here or go to the devilfor all I care.”

“I have told you it is not possible, Mr. Donnington,”he said firmly.

“You mean that you, for motives personal toyourself, will not permit it.”

“You have no reason to draw any such inference.”

“Well, I do draw it, and shall continue to believeit and act upon it until I learn it is wrong.”

“I tell you it is wrong, wholly wrong and preposterous.”

I looked at him with a purposely aggravating smileand shook my head. “As a matter of fact, I know,”I said. Pure bluff this, of course, but useful.

He paled with anger and his eyes flashed again.“You wish to insult me,” he said between his teeth.

“I should not regard it as an insult if you suggestedthat I admired a very beautiful woman, butif I got as angry as you are, you would conclude thatyou were right.”

He sprang up. “Then you intend to disregardmy warning and set us all at defiance,” he cried, besidehimself with rage.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Take it as you will, sir.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Iknew he was the agent of the Pretender and replyto his threat with one to denounce him to Volheno.But I checked myself. “You understand I shan’ttake it lying down. I shall hit back. And now Ithink we are at the end of this stage of the affair,”I said; and he left me.

It was evidently a fight to be with the gloves off,and I might look for trouble without any fear ofbeing disappointed. But I should be on my guard.

I had gained more than a warning by the interview,however. I had learnt the secret which hadbeen in the background. Barosa was in love with[166]Miralda; and Sampayo was only the stalking-horseto keep other men away until he could declare himself.I could not resist a smile at his dilemma. Hecould not do anything at present without changingInez from friend to enemy and I saw how thisinteresting embarrassment could be turned to excellentaccount with her.

But the axis of things was shifted. It was notSampayo who had so tortuously woven the web whichhad entangled Miralda. It was Barosa himself. Andthen came the question why Sampayo had been sopliant a tool in his hands and so frightened of him.There was one probable answer to that—that Barosaknew what I knew about that South African villainy.

Vasco arrived when I was turning over the problem.I told him that I had obtained his confession fromSampayo and that the latter would not trouble himany more; and he thanked me profusely, makingearnest protestations that he would never touch a cardor a dicebox again as long as he lived. Men generallymake resolutions of that sort at such a moment, ofcourse. He told me how much he owed to his fellow-officers,and I gave him the amount.

Then I suggested that he should return to theStella until Sampayo had left Lisbon. This was notmy real reason. I really wished to have him onboard in case I should decide upon the drastic stepof carrying off Miralda and could use him to get herto go to the yacht.

But he jumped away from the suggestion as if itwere a red-hot iron. “I am sorry I cannot, Mr.Donnington. I’ll do anything else, but to-morrowI must go on duty.”

“Why?” I asked with surprise at his exaggeratedlove of discipline.

“Don’t ask me that. I cannot tell you. Icannot really.”

“But you’ve told me a good deal.”

[167]“I’d tell you anything else. You’re the bestfriend a fellow could have. But this is not my secret.Please don’t question me.”

“Not your secret, eh? Then it’s some of thisconspiracy business. It strikes me you’re going tomake a fool of yourself. You’d much better havenothing to do with it.”

“For heaven’s sake don’t say any more.”

“Very well. By the way, you wanted to have myyacht for a day?”

His tell-tale face was instantly so troubled that Itook it he connected the question with what I hadsaid before.

“I shan’t want it, thank you,” he said quickly;and added with stammering hesitation: “You see,I’ve given up the idea of taking those fellows out.”

“All right. But all I was going to suggest wasthat you should come for another outing with meand perhaps get your sister to join you.”

“Oh, I’ll do that any time—but not to-morrow,or—or the next day. Any other time. I knowMiralda would go—at least—if——” and he stopped.

“Well, we’ll fix a day soon,” I said, and let himgo.

Evidently something serious was to take place onthe morrow. What could it be? Was it somethingI ought to know for Miralda’s sake? Clearly thesooner I could get her away the better.

Later in the evening Burroughs told me a curiousincident. We were smoking, and he broke one ofthe pauses with a sudden laugh. “A rum thinghappened yesterday,” he said, in response to myglance of surprise.

“Well?”

“Say, is the king of this benighted country in thehabit of playing the Haroun Al Raschid game?”

“I don’t know, Jack.”

“Well, it looks like it. I was on the Quay yesterday[168]and some of the loafers began looking at me andnudging one another and chattering—you knowwhat beggars they are for that—and the thing wenton until there were two or three dozen of ’em gawkingaround. I was walking away when hang me if thewhole lot didn’t off with the caps and sing out ‘LongLive the King.’ I looked round for the King, buthe wasn’t there, and when I was going back in thelaunch to the Stella afterwards, one of the handstold me the crowd had taken me for him, and werepretty huffy because I hadn’t acknowledged the cheer.Wish I’d tumbled to it, I’d have played up to it.”

“You are surprisingly like him, Jack, now that Ilook at you,” I said with a grin.

“Rather be myself, a heap,” he replied drily, andafter some chaff the matter dropped.

I had been considering how to tell him aboutMiralda, and after the next pause I asked him ifhe knew why we were in Lisbon.

“You haven’t told me,” he replied drily.

“You mean you have guessed?”

He took his pipe out of his mouth, glanced at it,and then at me and smiled. “I know the symptoms.I’ve had the fever myself. You’re the sort to takeit badly too.”

“I have.”

“What’s the trouble?”

“All sorts and plenty of it.”

“Well, I’m with you, if you want me. I’d love ascrap.”

“I’m thinking of making a bolt of it.”

“Stella?” I nodded. “The lady willing?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked her. She’s beenforced to give a promise to some one else. I’d bettertell you something about it;” and I gave him ashort outline of the position.

“It’s a mix up, sure,” he commented drily. “Butshe’s a lovely girl. That’s a cert.”

[169]“How do you know?”

“A man has eyes, I suppose. She’s a good sailortoo. Seemed to enjoy that bit of a racket on theyacht.”

“Yes,” I said, self-consciously.

“If you can get her to put one of her dainty feetinto a rowing boat, I’ll answer for it that she doesn’ttake it out again except to mount the Stella’s companion,and the rest would be as easy as shootinggulls.”

“But how to do it?”

He paused, shook his pipe out, refilled it and litit. “If you leave it to me, I’d undertake to do itall right,” he said very deliberately.

“How?”

“I said leave it to me. I’ll tell you how when it’sdone.”

“But you’ve never spoken to her.”

“All the better.”

“I should ask her first.”

“And spoil your chance. Ask her when we’rehalf-way across the bay.”

“It may have to come to that.”

“Better come first,” he said with his dry smile.“If you want to win.”

That was my own thought secretly; but I was halfafraid Miralda herself might resent such a strongstep.

We lapsed into silence and I sat thinking over thewhole situation, and the longer I thought the strongergrew my conviction that to get Miralda away was atonce the safest and simplest solution of all the difficulties.If she would go, of course. Would she?I could only answer that out of the hopes which herlook that afternoon had roused. If she were free, Iwas certain of her. And free she certainly wouldbe if I dared to carry her off in the Stella.

Presently we began to speak of another matter.[170]We were sitting at the open window with no lightexcept from that of the full moon, and Burroughswent out on to the verandah and leant over, lookingabout curiously.

“I suppose you think there may be somethinghappen to-night by having us up here?” he askedas he sat down again.

“Scarcely likely, but I thought best to be prepared.”

“It’s turning-in time. I’ll keep the first watch.”

“What have you seen?” I asked.

“Nothing—except that any one could get in hereeasily enough.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any fear of that.”

“I wasn’t talking about fear of anything. But Ishan’t turn in.”

“Neither shall I, yet. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, I reckon we don’t want to show ’emthey’re expected;” and he got up and closed thewindow. “And we shall have plenty of other timeto talk, so we’ll keep a close lip. From what youtold me, this is the night they’re most likely to trysome hanky-panky. I guess, too, we don’t wanttoo fresh smoke for ’em to smell, so I’ll shake mypipe out.”

He did so and drew his chair away from the window,and I followed his example.

I was wrong about not being able to sleep. Aftera time I dozed off and, at Burroughs’ suggestion,lay down on a sofa close to him and went off into asound sleep.

From a dream that I was being smothered I awoketo find a hand pressed tightly on my mouth.

“Hsh! Wake up. Something’s happening,”whispered Burroughs.

I looked round the room. It was almost dark, forthe moonlight was no longer streaming through thewindow. I had evidently been asleep some hours.

[171]Then Burroughs caught my sleeve and pulled itupwards. A sign to me to get up.

When I stood up he put his lips to my ear andwhispered: “You stay this side of the window.I’ll go to the other.”

Without making a sound he crept away from me.

I stood listening intently, and presently bent downand peered cautiously at the window.

There was neither sign nor sound of anything.

The seconds of suspense lengthened into minutes.

Burroughs had clearly deceived himself.

And just when I was on the point of telling him so,the form of a man showed on the verandah.

In a second I was on my feet again in the shadowof the curtain.

Cautiously the window was pushed open. A manentered and stood motionless as a statue, listeningand peering round the room.

With absolutely noiseless tread he stepped forwarda couple of paces, paused again, and then returnedto the balcony.

A couple of minutes passed before he re-entered,this time with a companion. The second man remainedclose to the window.

The small circle light of an electric lamp carried bythe first comer flashed for an instant, and then hestarted to cross the room.

AS soon as the two men were separated in this way,I realized that Burroughs had made a mistakein tactics. We ought to have stayed together. Asit was, I did not know which of the two he meant totackle.

It turned out that he was in the same uncertaintyabout me; but he saw that the man who had crossedthe room was going to switch on the electric light,and to prevent this he sprang on him and shouted tome to seize the other fellow.

I might as well have tried to seize a stroke of lightning.Before my companion had half finished hissentence, the man was out of the room and over thebalcony railing, and it would have been sheer follyto attempt any pursuit.

Meanwhile, Burroughs, who was as strong as abullock, had collared his man, holding his handsbehind him in a grip of iron.

I closed the jalousies and fastened them, and thenshut the window and fastened that, and then switchedup the light.

I recognized the prisoner immediately. It wasHenriques—the brute who had been going to strikeInez that night in the Rua Catania.

“Run your hands over him and draw his teeth,”said my friend.

He had both a revolver and a knife, and I tookthese from him and then turned out his pockets.[173]Among the miscellaneous contents I found, to myintense surprise, an envelope addressed to Vasco,the name being given in full.

I was careful not to show my keen interest at this,and something like a flash of intuition warned methat I must learn the contents of the letter withoutHenriques knowing that I had read it. As the envelopewas fastened, this was a little difficult. “Thesethings may be wanted by the police and may or maynot be important,” I said to Burroughs. Then Ifetched a sheet of paper from my desk, wrapped upthe envelope and the small things and sealed thepacket, placing the revolver and knife by them. Idid it very deliberately so that Henriques shouldsee, and then I said to him: “I don’t mean togive you a chance to deny that these thing werefound on you.”

“Shall I send for the police?” asked Burroughs,who was considerably perplexed by what I had done.

“That depends upon this scoundrel. You needn’thold him. He can’t do any harm. But don’t lethim get near these toys of his,” and I pointed to hisweapons. I had my plan by that time. I meantto trick him, and it was part of my plan that heshould believe that the packet was not out of hissight the whole time.

“Now, if you make a clean breast of things, Ishall let you go,” I said, turning to the man. “What’syour name?”

“Garcia Rosada.” He lied so promptly that Isaw he had been carefully making up his tale.

I was on the point of telling him I knew his name,when it occurred to me that it would be better toaffect to believe him. “Who sent you here?”

“No one.”

“Why did you come then?”

He hung his head for a moment as if in shameand then muttered: “I’ve never been a thief before,[174]and if you’ll let me go, Excellency, I vow to theHoly Virgin I’ll never be one again. Have mercyon me. I’ve a wife and five children and this will—willkill them.” He was an artful scoundrel, andthe break in his voice was quite cleverly done.

I put a few more questions, and he improved onthe tale, saying that his companion was name Ferraz,and having heard that I was a very rich man, hadtempted him to try and rob me.

Burroughs’ face, when he saw that I appeared tobelieve the yarn, was quite an amusing study. Hewas divided between doubt whether I was reallygulled, and curiosity as to my object, if I was not.

“I’ll write that down while it’s fresh in my memory.If I find your story true, I won’t punish you, Rosada,”I said and turned away to my writing table. I madea pretence of writing, repeating the words aloud andturning now and then to put a question about somedetail.

But what I really did was to make up a dummypacket the exact counterfeit of that on the table.

As soon as it was ready I crossed again to Henriques.“There’s one thing you haven’t explained,”I said, picking up the revolver. “Why did youbring this and the knife with you?”

He had his tale ready, good enough for such afool as he deemed me. “They are not mine at all,Excellency. They belong to Ferraz—the man whogot me into this.”

I put a question or two; and then as if in doubtI turned to replace the revolver and stood for a momentin such a position that he could not see me exchangethe packets.

“You don’t believe that, do you?” exclaimedBurroughs, with a scoff.

“I don’t know quite what to believe yet,” I replied.“I’ll think it over;” and I returned to mydesk, and while keeping up the farce of writing and[175]asking occasional questions, I opened the packet andtook out the letter to Vasco.

It was very insecurely fastened, fortunately, sothat I could open it without showing any signs thatit had been tampered with. As I read it, I found itwas from Dagara, and could scarcely restrain a laughof chagrin at the elaborate means I had taken todiscover a mare’s nest.

It ran as follows:—

Feeling very much like a man who has most ridiculouslyhoaxed himself, I refolded the letter, put itback carefully into the envelope, and was about tofasten it when a thought struck me.

Vasco a chess player! The most unlikely manin all Christendom to have that profoundly staid disease.And why should this Henriques be chosen tocarry such a letter and have it on him in the dead ofnight when he had come on such a grim mission as hadbrought him here?

Then a reason suggested itself. He must have had[176]instructions to deliver it in person to Vasco; andas the latter had been on the Stella from the previousnight, the note could not be delivered. The man insuch a case, being afraid to leave it about, might wellprefer to have it on him.

This meant that it was of much more importancethan its contents suggested; and my thoughts flewto the cipher.

I was glad now that I had taken all the trouble andI took some more. I made an exact copy of theletter, laying a sheet of very thin paper over it and usingthe utmost pains to space every word and letter exactlyas it was written.

Then I fastened it up and made up another packetand returned to Burroughs.

“I am still undecided what to do,” I said to him.“If this man’s tale is true, I shan’t punish him. Buthe must stop here for the present, of course. Havehim locked in a room and let a couple of men bewith him.”

Then I made another exchange of the packets andsaid to Henriques. “You can’t have your weapons,but you can keep this.” And I gave it him.

Burroughs took him out of the room and was backagain in a minute or two, his face one staring note ofinterrogation.

“What the devil does it all mean?” he cried.

“He’s an honest fellow that, Jack. He’s been ledinto trouble by evil companions and——”

“Oh, rats!” he broke in. “What were you writingthere? You had me guessing all the time?”

“I was only writing this;” and I showed him thecopy of the letter.

He read it and scratched his head. “What is it?A prize puzzle?”

“It’s a copy of the letter I took from our friend’spocket.”

“But you wrapped it up in the parcel.”

[177]“You wouldn’t have me rob a gentleman of hisbelongings?”

“But the blessed thing was on the table all the time.”

“Do you mean this?” and I produced the dummy.

“It’s on me,” he said with a laugh. He was veryAmerican at times in his idioms.

“I’m either a big stupid ass and have taken a lot oftrouble for nothing, or I’ve made a useful discovery.I shall soon know which,” I said explaining how I hadchanged the packets.

Then I fetched the cipher key which I had hiddenin another room and returned to find him puffing athis pipe and puzzling over the copy of the letter.

I told him then about the discovery of the cipher,and laid the key over the lines getting more nonsensewords from the first two or three. Then I read theletter again and a thought struck me.

Dagara spoke of ten problems. There were tenlines in the letter.

“The fifth and sixth will interest you,” ran thephrase.

I laid the punctured slip over these in turn. Thefifth gave me this result. I will put the indicatedletters in capitals.

“I hoPe that All our Playing mEmbeRS will findoR make.”

“P A P E R S R,” was shown up.

I laid the same row of holes over the next line, withno results that were intelligible. The second row wasno more fruitful, but the third gave this result.

“an EArly opportunity of stuDying them thoroughlY.”

Put together the two lines of indicated letters read—

“PAPERS READY”—easy enough for Macaulay’sschoolboy to understand. “Papers Ready.”

“I’m not a stupid ass after all,” I exclaimed, triumphantly.“Now we want our considering caps. Thismeans that some important information which the[178]writer of this letter has obtained is waiting to be delivered,and what we have to do is to get hold ofthem.”

“It’s not in my line,” said Burroughs.

“I’m going to sleep over it. We’re not likely tohave any more callers, so I shall go to bed;” and tobed I went, leaving him on watch, as he declared heshould sit up till daylight.

In the morning I decided what to do. It was clearthat the papers were too important to be trusted byDagara to any one but a duly selected messenger.The care with which the message was sent toVasco that they were ready, suggested that he was notthat messenger. Why then should he be told aboutthem? Probably he had to send the messenger forthem.

I thought it over carefully, revolving all I knew, andby the process of exclusion decided it was Miralda. Itmust be some one whom Vasco could see at any time,the moment the message reached him. Even withInez, of whom I thought first, this was not practicable.It might be some fellow-officer; but no one of themwould be so invariably within immediate touch asMiralda.

Moreover, it was just the thing for which she couldbe used to the best advantage. Dagara was marriedI knew, and thus she would only have to pay an informalvisit to the wife for him to meet her and hand overany papers. Then I recalled that Inez had been oneof the first to see that forged letter of mine whichDagara had given up, and the conclusion was easythat when Miralda obtained anything, she handedit on to Inez for the latter to give to Barosa.

The inference was strong enough for me to riskacting upon it. I could not, of course, be certain thatMiralda went to Dagara’s house for any communications,while that I should go there was out of thequestion. I decided therefore to try my hand at a[179]cipher message in Miralda’s name telling Dagara tobring the papers to a spot where I could meet him,and then take him to the only safe place for such aninterview as ours would be—on the Stella.

I must contrive to get him there secretly. I remembereda very little-used landing-stage on the eastof the city round the point, where I could have mylaunch ready, and I soon saw a way of getting Dagarato that spot.

The message I sent in cipher was as follows:

“Usual place unsafe. M. waiting now in the Pracada Figueira for papers.”

I wrapped this up in a long letter answering hisabout the chess problems, addressed it to Dagara atVolheno’s and sent Bryant to leave it at the office.

I had meanwhile bundled Burroughs off to bringthe launch to the landing-stage, and I timed the deliveryof the letter to reach Dagara just about his dinnerinterval.

If the scheme failed, I resolved as an alternativeto find out where he lived and risk a visit to his houseto frighten the papers out of him.

I had a carriage in readiness as I intended to drivehim in it to the landing-stage; and I was not a littleexcited as I started for the Praca da Figueira—a quietlittle square close to my flat.

I left the carriage out of sight and as I turned thecorner leisurely I felt a little thrill of satisfaction tosee that he was there before me.

I had worked out my chess problem successfully andsaw my way to mate in less than his seven moves.

He was walking slowly with his back toward me,and I quickened up my pace so that I was close tohim when he heard my footsteps, turned and saw me.

I WAS a great deal more pleased to see Dagarathan he was to see me, judging by the way inwhich he took my hand and the little nervousshrinking movement as I linked my arm in his andturned back with him toward the carriage.

“I am afraid I am a little late, but I have made allthe haste I could,” I said with a smile of apology whichperplexed him considerably.

“You have an appointment then? I myself am—amwaiting for a friend.”

“My appointment is with you, of course. Thereis a change in the plans and I have come to fetch you.I have a carriage here for the purpose. I was delightedto come. I want to ask your opinion about something.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, Mr. Donnington.”

“The fact is I want to talk chess with you—aboutM. Polski’s ten problems, and particularly the fifthand sixth.”

His face turned to the colour of the paving stoneshe was staring at so intently, and his voice was ashusky as if half the dust of the city had got into histhroat when he muttered: “What do you mean?”

“Here’s my carriage. Jump in, and we’ll chat itover as we drive.” I had already told the driverwhere to go.

Dagara had no jump left in him, poor fellow, andtried to refuse to get in at all. But with my help he[181]stumbled in and sat staring helplessly at me, as Italked a lot of nonsense about chess—to give him timeto pull himself together.

“Where are you taking me, Mr. Donnington?”he asked when I had chattered myself almost out ofbreath.

“He is driving us down to a landing-stage and I’mgoing to give you some lunch on my yacht. I havehad a desire for a chat with you for several days.”

“I am much obliged to you, Mr. Donnington, but Icannot go now.”

“Oh, nonsense. I’ll make excuses to M. Volheno.”

“But I will not go. I won’t be forced in this way,”he cried, striving hard to rally his courage.

“Of course I won’t force you. I’ll stop thecarriage.” I leant forward as if to call to the driver,and then turned with a meaning look. “By the way,did you find that missing letter the other day?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I demand to getout.”

“I know why it was missing, M. Dagara. Wouldyou rather lunch with me or shall we return togetherto M. Volheno? Decide quickly, please. It mustbe one or the other.”

He drew a sobbing breath of fright; and all thoughtof resistance was abandoned.

I let him frighten himself thoroughly until we werenearing the landing-stage. “Now I want you to understandthings. I shall either be one of the best friendsyou ever had or I shall ruin you lock, stock and barrel.That rests with you. I know all you have been doingand what your appointment was for to-day. Giveme the papers you have and tell me candidly all youknow about these people’s plans, and I shall be thefriend. Refuse, and I shall be the reverse. And Ican be a very ugly enemy, M. Dagara. We shall nottalk on the way to the yacht and you will have ampletime to think over your position and decide. But I[182]must have the papers at once, lest you should take afancy to pitch them into the harbour.”

He hesitated in positively pitiful fear.

“If you do not give them to me now without trouble,my men on the launch will take them from you byforce.”

That threat had a wholesome effect. After a momenthe handed me an envelope which I pocketed, andhe gave no more trouble.

In consequence of some repairs to the roadwaythe carriage had to stop some fifty yards short ofthe landing-stage, but he walked to the launch withoutdemur, and when I told him to conceal himselfin the little cabin he obeyed at once.

As soon as we reached the Stella I led him intothe saloon. “Now I’ll have your decision, Dagara,”I said sharply.

“Will you really try to shield me?”

“Yes, I give you my word—but no half measures,mind. I know quite enough to test the truth of allyou say.”

“I’m the most miserable man in Portugal, Mr.Donnington, and this double life is killing me;” andthen out came his story.

It was very similar to Vasco’s case—except thatDagara’s wife had been the means of his undoing.She had friends among the revolutionaries and hadbeen in league with them some time before he discoveredit. She had wormed things out of him, as wives canand do out of husbands who love and trust them, andhad handed on the information to her friends.

Barosa had learnt this and naturally jumped at thechance of getting a man in such a position into hisclutches. It was not difficult to lay a trap for him,and he found himself suddenly faced with the alternativeof giving a little information of a comparativelyharmless description, or of seeing the wife he loveddenounced to the Government as a revolutionary.

[183]Love for wife triumphed over fealty to employer,and the information was given. It concerned only somearrangements for the disposition of a body of troopsand police on one occasion when the king was returningto the capital from a shooting party. But it was givenin writing—Barosa took good care of that, of course—andfrom that hour Dagara was a bond-slave and hadnever known a minute’s peace of mind.

By degrees, cunningly progressive, information ofincreasing secrecy and importance had been extortedfrom him until even his wife was scared out of hersenses and the man himself driven to regard suicideas offering the only prospect of relief from unbearabletorture.

I was right in my guess that Miralda had been usedlately as a go-between. She knew the wife, andVasco had been dastard enough to induce his sisterto fetch one or two communications from Dagara,without telling her their nature. She had then beenallowed to discover their treasonable character, andhad immediately refused to carry any more. Thenthe screw was turned. She was already compromisedand her name as a suspect would be given up. Shehad resisted strenuously, answering threat with threat,but the thing had been done cleverly, and the onlypeople she was at that time in a position to harm werethe Dagaras, her friends, and her own brother. Thelatter’s prosecution for the theft he had confessed wasthe next menace, and this had driven her to yield,and so, like Dagara, she had become hopelessly entangledin the net.

This was almost all that Dagara could tell me. Iput a guarded question about the Visconte de Linto,but he declared with the exception of Miralda, Henriquesand a friend of his wife’s, he did not know the name ofanother person in the conspiracy. Henriques wasthe caretaker of the building in which the chess clubmet, and carried his letters to Vasco.

[184]The reason for this caution on Barosa’s part wasclear. He knew that Dagara had a very weak backboneand that at any moment a fit of remorse mightseize him in which he would reveal all he knew toVolheno. He was therefore allowed to know as littleas possible.

“But you know what use is made of the informationyou have given from time to time?” I asked him.

“So far as I can see, it has been of comparativelylittle use. I have told them from time to time theobjects and plans of the police and have warned themwhen suspicion has fallen on certain individuals, orwhen raids have been planned. The threatened personshave disappeared and the raids have brought no result.”

“You warned them about me and gave them thatletter?”

“Yes. But in regard to that a curious thing occurred.I received a communication in the cipher warningme to look out for it.”

I understood this of course. In his eagerness thatthe attempt against me should not misfire, Sampayohad sent the warning.

“But what are these men’s plans?”

“I don’t know. They are of course in leagueagainst the Government, but what they mean to doI have no idea. That uncertainty is the heaviest partof my burden. It weighs on me night and day.”

“Well, let us deal with these papers in particular,”I said. “What is the information in them?”

“I was ordered to ascertain the movements of thepolice and troops to-morrow evening when the Kingreturns to the city from a shooting expedition. Exceptthat in this case I had to get fuller details andquite exact particulars; the information is no morethan I have supplied before.”

“Do you suppose any demonstration is to takeplace against him or any attempt made to harm him?”

“God forbid,” he cried instantly agitated.

[185]“Is there anything in the arrangements differingfrom those which are usually made?”

“Yes, there is. His Majesty is not supposed to bereturning for another week and is only remaining forthe one night. He has expressly ordered that thecustomary arrangements shall be omitted both on hisarrival and on his departure the following morningearly. He wishes the matter to be kept quite secret.”

I pricked up my ears at this. “Tell me the policearrangements.”

“They are all there,” he replied pointing to thepapers.

“Tell me generally.”

“There will be very few police or military present.He crosses from Barreiro in an ordinary launch—notthe royal launch—and instead of going to the Quay,he will land at the Eastern landing-stage—the onefrom which you brought me to-day. He will beaccompanied only by two members of the shootingparty, and three or four officers will be present to receivehim.”

“Of any particular regiment?”

“The First Battalion of the Royal Guards.”

This was the regiment in which Sampayo was amajor and Vasco lieutenant.

“Wait a moment. Is not the loyalty of that regimentsuspected?”

“Oh no,” he replied decidedly.

“But M. Volheno said something of the sort tome.”

“M. Volheno was only trying to draw some admissionsfrom you, Mr. Donnington. He dictated to mea précis of his conversation with you that morning;and I knew at once what his object had been.”

“Well, go on.”

“A private carriage will be in waiting for his Majesty,and he and his two companions will drive in that to thePalace.”

[186]“But a carriage cannot get any closer to the stagethan ours to-day—that is some forty or fifty yardsfrom the landing-place.”

“His Majesty has used that stage more than oncewhen returning privately to the city.”

“Since you have been giving away this information?”

“Yes, once—about six weeks ago.”

“Will that part be policed?”

“It never is. His Majesty does not go in fear ofany section of his people. He ridicules the very suggestionof such a thing, Mr. Donnington.”

“And M. Franco and M. Volheno?”

“Are of the same opinion so far as the capital isconcerned. Of course, it would be different in Oporto.The revolutionaries are strong there. But in Lisbonthere is no more than discontent which the police cansuppress.”

“I understand. Now, would it take you long tomake a copy of these papers?”

“An hour, perhaps.”

“Do so while you are having something to eat. Iwish to think things over.” I left him at the work andgoing on deck nearly tumbled over Burroughs, whowas staring intently at some object through the mostpowerful glass we had on the yacht.

“Don’t show yourself, Ralph. Come here a moment,”and he pulled me under the lee of the pinnacebehind which he was screening his action.

“What is it?”

“You’ve infected me with some of your suspicions,and as you said last night about yourself, I’m eithera stupid ass or I’ve made a discovery which may beimportant. I’ve been watching the people on thatboat there—the one with the grey hull and sharp lines.She’s called the Rampallo. She came in yesterday,and the old man tells me the whole of her crew weredischarged soon after you sent for me.”

[187]“Well, what’s that to us? We don’t want anyhands.”

“But she hasn’t taken on another.”

“I suppose her skipper or owner can please himself.”

“But the skipper went with the crew as well. Andwhen I came off this morning to fetch the launch, Isaw that tall young dandy on board her—the fellowwho was out with us.”

“The devil you did!” I exclaimed, with suddenlyroused interest.

“There have been two or three boats out to her thismorning, and what can any one be wanting in a yachtwith no crew on board?”

“Let me have a squint at her,” I said, taking theglass and training it on her. She was a nice craft,about 250 tonnage; her sharp lines suggested a goodturn of speed; and everything about her was as smartas one expects to see it in a private yacht.

“What drew my attention to her,” said Burroughsat my elbow, “was that I saw some one carefullyscanning us through a glass, and I thought I’d returnthe compliment.”

“What was he like?”

The description he gave fitted no one whom I knew.“He’s been at it more than once since. The old manhas noticed it too.”

“Are you sure that you recognized that youngfellow?” I asked as I handed him the glass, not havingseen any one on the yacht.

“I’d eat my sea-boots if it wasn’t.”

“Well, keep an eye skinned for her. It’s verysingular.”

I took his advice not to show myself and sat downon the other side of the deck and lit a cigar to thinkthings over.

I recalled Vasco’s request for the loan of the Stellaand the hesitating way in which he had explained that[188]he had abandoned the idea of taking his companionsfor a day’s cruise.

Why was he on that other yacht? For a time mymind was so thronged with the crowd of suggestionsarising out of Dagara’s statement, the events of thelast few days, and now this enigma of a crewless yacht,that I had the greatest difficulty in picking a course.In my present mood I was ready to see matter forsuspicion in anything, however trivial.

Presently Burroughs called to me. “He’s therenow, Ralph.”

It was Vasco, sure enough. The glass showed hisfeatures plainly; and while I was watching, two othermen came up on the deck and all three went ashore ina launch.

I returned to my seat completely bewildered. Ihad gained vitally important information, but hadno idea what use to make of it. Rack my wits as Iwould, I couldn’t see the connecting link with Barosa’splans.

Then all suddenly a wild thought occurred to me:far-fetched, extravagant, and grossly improbable;but not impossible.

It was that an attempt was to be made on the king’slife, and that this crewless yacht was to afford themeans of escape for the assassins.

Possible or impossible I could put it to the test.It was good enough to form a working hypothesis,and I plunged into the consideration of the steps totake.

In the first place Dagara must go back to the citywith the papers and these must find their way toBarosa.

I saw how to do that. I called Burroughs to me.

“Jack, I am going to take Dagara back to the cityin the launch, and I want you to go at once to myrooms and liberate the fellow we caught last night.It must be done cleverly. Tell Simmons to leave Foster[189]in the room alone with him and then to fire a shot andyell to Foster for help. Foster is to rush out, leavingthe door open and the way clear for the scoundrel toget off. He must be at liberty inside an hour from nowand must have no suspicion that the thing is a plant.Get going, man. I’ll tell you all afterwards,” I saidas he hesitated and wanted to ask questions.

Then I went down to Dagara to test him.

I should have to trust him, for his part was of thevery pith and marrow of my new plans.

DAGARA having finished both his task and hislunch was waiting in some concern to knowwhat was to come next, and he appeared relievedwhen I said he was to return in the launch.

“I wish you to go back,” I told him, “and actprecisely as if our meeting had never taken place.With this exception—should any change be made inthese arrangements for the King’s arrival to-morrowevening, let me know them and do not divulge themto any one.”

“And about Mademoiselle Dominguez?” he asked.

“Well, what about her?” I repeated, not understanding.

“She got you to meet me to-day after sending meword where to go.”

“Oh no, that was a fairy tale of mine. I wrotethat cipher letter. Yours has not yet reached herbrother. But it will do so very soon now, and shewill no doubt go to your house as usual.”

“But how did you get the cipher?” he asked inblank astonishment.

“Never mind about that. The question is, will youdo exactly as I ask? I will call at M. Volheno’soffice to-morrow afternoon and you must manage tosee me and——”

“He has an appointment from four to five with M.Franco at the latter’s bureau. If you come then[191]I could see you privately without exciting any suspicion.”

I agreed to do this and then, having got from him hisaddress and the time when he would reach his houseand give the papers to Miralda, I made certain thatno one on the Rampallo was taking stock of our movements,and smuggled him into the launch.

As soon as he had left to return to his office I sentthe men with the launch to wait at the usual landing-stageon the quay.

When I reached my rooms, the little farce had beenplayed and Henriques had gone. I calculated thathis first step would be to deliver the letter to Vasco,who would immediately send Miralda for the papers,and my intention was to meet her as she left Dagara’shouse.

It was essential that I should know to whom shewas to hand them and that person must be shadowedfrom the moment they were in his or her possession.

In the meanwhile I had to ascertain whetherSampayo had left the city, and to do this I sent myservant, Bryant, a sharp fellow, with a letter for Sampayo.I told him to say it was to be given into Sampayo’sown hands, and if asked, he was to say it wasfrom Dr. Barosa.

I wrote one line: “Give you one more hour.”

He returned with the news that Sampayo had gone.The furniture was being removed and all the evidencesof a speedy departure were everywhere. I concluded,therefore, that Sampayo had learnt of the failure ofhis little scheme the previous night and had fled.

In the meanwhile Burroughs and I had discussedthe spy work that had to be done. My opinion wasthat the papers would be given to Inez, and if so,the difficulties would be considerable.

“Simmons is sharp enough to do it,” said Burroughs;“but I should suggest that you put both him[192]and your man, Bryant, on it, and let Simmons righimself up as a Portuguese long-shoreman.”

I adopted the suggestion and we sent the man outto buy the necessary disguise.

“I must be on hand to point out the quarry,” Isaid; “but the devil of it is, if she takes them to herhouse we shall have the trail cut and shall need toshadow every one who comes out. And that’s preciselywhere she is most likely to take them.”

“Say, I’ve a great idea,” exclaimed Burroughs,clashing his big fist on the table excitedly. “Whatprice my offering to ship aboard that yacht, theRampallo?”

“What’s that got to do with this sleuthing business?”

“Nothing, but you want to know what game’sgoing on on board her.”

“My dear fellow, let’s stick to one thing at atime.”

“It would be great though, wouldn’t it? I’dmake ’em sit up.”

“Do you imagine for an instant that you are notknown to belong to the Stella?”

“I didn’t think of that,” he said crestfallen, shakinghis head.

“Well, don’t think any more of it, and let’s worrythis other thing out.”

“I can’t get that infernal boat out of my head.”

We did worry with it until it was time to set out;but the only thing I could see to do, if Inez took thepapers home, was to call at her house myself.

Being entirely new to this spy business, I was abominablynervous and possessed with the conviction thatevery one we met knew quite well the reason why wewere strolling along the street with an entirely exaggeratedair of indifference.

Burroughs and I went ahead, Simmons, got up asa rather theatrical Portuguese fisherman, was behind[193]us, and Bryant, who apparently was the coolest ofthe four, followed on the opposite side of the street.

We had barely reached the neighbourhood of Dagara’shouse when Miralda drove up in a hired carriage.She stopped the driver a hundred yards short of thestreet and got out, leaving the driver to wait.

My first step was to get rid of the carriage, by tellingthe man he would not be wanted and paying his farewith the addition of a liberal tip.

In a few minutes Miralda returned and was profoundlysurprised to find me instead of the carriage,and her hand trembled as she put it in mine.

“I have sent your carriage away. I knew you werecoming to M. Dagara’s house and the reason, and Iwas compelled to speak to you alone.”

“You have frightened me. What is the matter?”

“I am only going to ask you to trust me. Youwill?”

“Need you ask that?” and her eyes flashed inreproach. “But I may be seen with you,” she added,glancing round.

“I am not going to keep you long enough to explaineverything—only to ask you two questions. I willtell you everything another time. To whom are yougoing to give the papers you have just received fromM. Dagara?”

“Mr. Donnington!” she cried with a start and astare of astonishment.

“No, not to me,” I replied with a smile. “Let uswalk on a little. You will not think I mean anythingthat is not entirely to help you in asking this.”

“No. I know that. But I—I can’t tell you.Besides, I have been ordered not—not to speak toyou.”

“I guessed something of the sort and that’s partlythe reason why I arranged this meeting instead of comingto your house. You generally give such things tothe Contesse Inglesia. Shall you give her these?”

[194]Again she was startled. “But how can all this beknown to you? Do you mean others know it?”

“Certainly not. But please tell me.”

“How you have learnt all this, I can’t imagine; butyou are right. I do generally give them to Inez. Butthere has been some unaccountable delay and I am togive them to Vasco.”

“That’s good news, for a start.”

“Why good news?” she asked quickly.

“You must let me be a little mysterious for thepresent. And now, the second question—can youtell me where he is to take them?”

“I know no more than you—not so much indeedit seems;” and she smiled faintly.

“That’s better—that you can smile, I mean. Whenwill you give them to him? Is he waiting at yourhome for them?”

“No. He hurried in to tell me to fetch them atonce and that he would come back for them. He wasvery excited about something and very strange.”

“When is he to return for them?”

“I don’t know.”

“But I must know. It is absolutely vital. Canyou so arrange that he does not get them until, say,eight o’clock this evening?”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me. Can you do it?”

“It may be dangerous, but I—I will try.”

“It must be certain,” I said firmly. “I must knowdefinitely.”

“Then of course I promise you.”

“Good. I shall depend on you. Let me say howI thank you for this trust.”

“As if I should not,” she said again, with a look ofreproach. “But—but can’t you tell me something?I am all at sea.”

“I wish we both were,” I cried impulsively. “Thatwould put an end to all this ugly business.”

[195]Her face clouded. “I can see no end to it buttrouble and disaster,” she replied with a gesture ofdespair that went to my heart.

“I believe I can see the end, if all goes well justnow. But if I fail——” I paused and looked at herearnestly.

“If you fail?” she repeated questioningly.

“There is still the sea,” I said, with as much under-currentof meaning as I could put into tone, looks,manner.

She sighed. “Yes, there is still the sea; but——”and she shook her head despondently.

“Would you dare?” I asked in little more than awhisper.

“I am fettered like a slave—oh, once more to befree!” she sighed.

“Will you dare it now?”

But at that she flinched. “I am talking like amadwoman. It is impossible, impossible.”

“I don’t understand that word when I am in suchearnest as now. Sampayo has left Lisbon. I havedriven him away. I will sweep every other obstacleout of our path. Miralda?”

She trembled as I uttered her name and took herhand in mine; the colour flushed her cheeks and shestood hesitating with downcast eyes.

“Miralda?” I said again appealingly, hoping shewould yield.

“Ah, how you tempt me!” she whispered.

“In less than an hour we can be out of the river,homeward bound. For God’s sake come—now,” I saidpassionately.

But I failed. She started as if from a dream andshivered. “You made me forget, but——”

“Remember only your happiness and the freedomfrom all these troubles. Trust me.”

She shook her head, sighed deeply, and withdrewher hand. “It is not that I distrust. But there is my[196]mother. If I were to play these men false they wouldvisit it upon her.”

“But she can come with us. Let me see her.”

“It is impossible. Impossible. Would to Heavenit were not?”

“Then I’ll try the other way,” I said. “But if Ifail——”

After a pause she lifted her eyes to mine, let themrest there a second and then smiled, but shook herhead despondently again.

“It must be as you will,” I said. “And now thereis one thing more. It may be necessary for me tocommunicate with you. If I send one of my peopleto your house, will you see him?”

“Yes. I will help you all I can and pray for yoursuccess.”

I held out my hand. “Till we meet again.”

She put hers into it with a delighting pressure.

“And if I fail,” I said again, “there is still the sea.”

“There is still the sea,” she whispered; “for you,but not for me.”

I watched her go and presently saw her enter acarriage.

Then Burroughs came up and I tried to think ofother things; not very successfully at first. Wereturned to my rooms, and on the way Miralda’seloquent smile, the thrilling pressure of her hand, theflush of tell-tale colour, and the proof of her trust, entangledmy wits and made it difficult for me for a timeto give coherent answers to the questions of myinsistently curious companion.

My object in securing Miralda’s promise to delay thedelivery of the papers to Vasco was to enable me tomake preparations to follow him myself, and I setabout them the instant we reached my rooms.

I had decided to use the Portuguese clothes whichSimmons had obtained; and a few alterations in themtogether with a false moustache, the darkening of my[197]eyebrows and the judicious application of a little picturesquedirt to my face and hands and clothes, sochanged my appearance that even Miralda would havehad difficulty in recognizing me.

I arranged that Burroughs should follow me, to be athand in case of need; that Simmons should go to thelaunch and Foster remain for the night with Bryantat the flat.

It was dark when I reached the visconte’s house towait for Vasco, and I had no fear that he would penetratemy disguise.

There was one trouble I had to guard against—thedanger of the streets. The fact that a man of myapparent position was lurking about in such a neighbourhoodmight easily attract the attention of thepolice, but I was saved from that embarrassment byMiralda’s punctuality.

I had scarcely found a hiding-place when a carriagedrove up and she and Inez alighted from it and enteredthe house. She had gone to Inez in order notto meet Vasco until the hour we had agreed.

Three minutes afterwards he came out and hurriedaway at a rapid pace, and the spy work commencedin earnest. While we were in the quieter streets, Ifollowed at just sufficient distance to keep him insight; but when he turned into the Rua Sao BenitoI hastened to close up, for fear of losing him in thatsomewhat busy street.

As I hurried round the corner I nearly plumped intohim. He stood looking about him, and I stoppedand rolled a cigarette to fill the pause.

It turned out that he was waiting for a tram-car,and when he boarded it I had no option but to riskdiscovery and follow him. He sat close to the doorand I passed him, with my face averted, choosing aseat on the same side, but at the other end.

He was in a condition of extreme nervous excitementand had been drinking freely, probably to[198]drown his fears. He sat with his hands plunged inhis pockets and took no notice of any one; and evenwhen the other passengers got out at the Square ofSt. Paul, leaving him at one end of the long seat andme at the other with no one between us, he took nonotice of me.

I had now lost Burroughs, of course. He had hungbehind until he had missed the car; but this wasperhaps all the better. If he had been in the car,Vasco might have recognized him.

When we reached the Praca do Commercio, Vascogot up and jumped off and hurried along the Rua daAlfandega. There was little fear of my attractingnotice here as there were still plenty of people about,and I had no difficulty in following him.

I guessed now that he was making for the landing-stagenear the Artillery Museum, and just as he reachedthat building he was accosted by two men in thedress of sailors. He drew back nervously at first,with a sharp stare; then began to talk to them;and they walked on together.

They were as much like sailors as I was like thecross of St. Paul’s, and walked with the stiff uprightcarriage of well-drilled soldiers.

It was clear that I was not the only person in Lisbonthat night with a fancy for disguise, and this discoveryconfirmed my opinion that Vasco was making for thelanding-stage.

Were Burroughs’ suspicions of that yacht, theRampallo, about to be confirmed?

It looked uncommonly like it.

THE fact that Vasco’s companions—presumablyhis fellow-officers—were playing at being sailors,increased the need for extreme caution. I droppedback and followed at a distance, contented to keep thethree men just in sight.

They made straight for the landing-stage, got aboarda small launch in which another man was waiting,and cast off at once and headed out into the estuary.They were going to the Rampallo, of course; and equallyof course I must manage to get on board after them.

I could not follow immediately, however, as the noiseof my launch would be heard and a dozen suspicionsstarted. I guessed that a conference was to be heldon the yacht about the information which Vascohad brought; but why such a place was chosen for itbaffled me. The reason could not be merely the desirefor absolute privacy which had induced me to takeDagara to the Stella. These men must have a dozenplaces in the city where they could meet without aremote chance of being overheard.

Still I had to deal with facts, and the controllingfact now was that the papers were on Vasco and he wasgoing to the yacht. I must therefore follow him orthrow up the sponge.

While I was waiting Burroughs arrived. “I lostyou in the Rua Sao Benito, Ralph,” he explained,“so I thought it best to come on to the launch. Whyare you here?”

[200]I told him briefly what had occurred, and what Imeant to do, and in a few minutes we were on ourway to the Stella.

“You’re taking risks,” he said, as we sat talking itover.

“I can’t help that, but in fact I’m not so surethere are any. My idea is this. As soon as we reachthe yacht, get the Firefly launched.” This was asmall electric launch I had on the yacht. “You andI will drop down in her to the Rampallo. She runswith scarcely a sound, and we’ll see whether any look-outis kept on her. I shall be surprised if there is; and ifnot, I shall climb aboard without any trouble. Ifthere is one, you must manage to keep him watchingyou at the stern while I swim to the bow and getaboard by the anchor cable. Once on board, I’ll shiftfor myself. If necessary I’ll silence him.”

“It sounds all right to you, perhaps,” he grumbled.

“It’s got to be all right, Jack. The worst that canhappen is that I shall be discovered and have to makea bolt of it. I suppose I can dive well enough to jumpfrom a yacht’s bulwarks. But even if the beggars gethold of me, I suppose you can make enough row to scarethem. Have the launch within hail, if you like, withthe skipper and four or five of the men. There’s nopersonal risk at all—the only risk is that I may fail tofind out things.”

“But if they caught you they might shoot first andjaw afterwards,” he objected.

“A dozen ‘ifs’ suggest a dozen ‘mights,’ of course.But I’m not likely to give them much of a chance.”

“They’d be justified if they took you for a thief.”

“They won’t be thinking about thieves. They’remuch more likely to be fearing the police and be scaredout of their skins. Anyway, it’s the best plan I canthink of, and it’s got to be done.”

When we reached the Stella I threw off the clothesI had been wearing and dressed for the venture. I had[201]of course to render myself as little conspicuous aspossible for the spy work on the Rampallo, and hadalso to be careful not to wear anything which wouldhamper me too much if I had to take to the water.

So I chose a set of very dark grey combinations whichfastened close up to the neck, and a pair of dark rubber-soledshoes. A dark cloak to wear in the Fireflycompleted a costume in which I looked like a crossbetween a Harlequin and a Guy Fawkes conspirator.

By the time these preparations were completeBurroughs had launched the Firefly and we were soonoff. The moon was not due for an hour and the nightwas dark enough to conceal us.

The Firefly glided almost noiselessly through thewaters at the slow pace we deemed best, and weswitched off the motor every now and again and letthe boat drift. The darkness made it a little difficultto pick up the Rampallo, which had no light, butBurroughs glanced now and then at the compass bythe flash of an electric torch, and thus kept hiscourse.

“What weapon have you?” he whispered once.

“Why, none, of course. I’m not going throat-slitting.I am only going to use my ears.”

“There she is,” he said suddenly, and pointed ahead.His eyes were keener than mine, but I made herout soon afterwards.

We drifted down close to her, keeping our eyes fixedon her for any sign that a look-out was kept.

“I don’t think there is any one on the deck,” hewhispered.

She was lying between us and the twinkling lampsof the city, and as we drifted nearer, her outline showedup against the lights and the reflexion of them in thesky.

All was as still as a vault; and not a single portholegave out so much as the glimmer of a match.

A sickening feeling of disappointment began to[202]creep over me at the fear that there was no one onboard.

“Sheer down alongside, Jack,” I whispered.

No one challenged us as we dropped under the leeof the hull. I fended the Firefly off with my hands andthen worked her round under the stern.

Here was confirmation of my fear in the disconcertingdiscovery that the launch, which I had confidentlyexpected to find either astern or alongside, was notthere.

“There’s no one on her, Ralph,” said Burroughs.

“I shall get aboard and see. Drop astern and thencircle round at a distance to the bow.”

We drifted far enough for our little propeller to beout of earshot and then made a sweep round to thebow.

“What do you think it means?” he whispered.

“I’m afraid I’ve backed the wrong horse. But Ican’t think of anywhere else for that launch to go.When I get aboard stand off up the bay so that youcan keep a look-out for me. The reflection of the citylight in the sky will be enough for you to see any signalI make to you.”

“You can do better than that. Take the electrictorch. You can show a light then even if you have toswim for it.”

“That’s a happy thought,” I exclaimed, andtucked it inside my vest.

“If there’s any trouble I shall be able to makeracket enough for you to hear me, and you can comeaboard after me.”

We stopped the propeller then and drifted down tillI could reach the yacht’s cable. I swarmed up thisand, using the greatest caution, got a grip and hauledmyself up until I could see along the deck.

It was quite deserted, so I climbed on to the forecastleand crept along as stealthily as a cat stalking abird and almost as noiselessly.

[203]I had reached almost amidships when I discoveredthat some one was on board after all. The glow froma lamp showed through the partly open companion ofthe saloon. Doubling my caution I lay at full lengthon the deck and approached the opening.

Whoever he was he was able to afford very goodcigars, for the scent of one reached me. I lay listeningintently. I heard the crackle of papers as they wereturned over; the rustle of some one moving in his chair,a sound of stertorous breathing; the clink of a bottleagainst a glass, and again the crackle of papers as theman, whoever he was, resumed his writing or reading.

For many minutes there was no other sound. Thenthe man struck a match as he lit a fresh cigar, andpushed aside the papers with a breath of relief. Thensilence for a while, broken at length by a gasp and asnore.

“Wake up, you drunken young pig!”

At this I nearly uttered a cry of astonishment.It was Sampayo’s voice; and in a second I understoodwhat had so baffled me—why the papers had beenbrought to the Rampallo.

Sampayo was hiding on it from me. That removalof his goods and all the evidences of flight which Bryanthad seen were just play-acting to mislead meinto the belief that he had bolted, and being afraidto be seen on shore he had arranged for his associatesto come to the boat.

That they were coming was soon plain. Sampayoroused the man he had spoken to; and the answer wasin Vasco’s voice, thick with drink.

“Go on deck, you young fool, and see if there areany signs of the launch. They ought to be here bynow.”

“Leave me alone,” grunted Vasco thickly.

“I must go myself then,” was the reply with anoath.

I slipped away forward and hid myself under the[204]lee of the forecastle hatchway. Sampayo came outon deck and stood smoking and listening and peeringthrough the darkness for the expected launch.

Presently, I heard the quick throb of her propeller,and in a few minutes she reached the yacht and threeor four men, I could not distinguish the exact number,came on board, and all went down below at once.

Anxious not to miss a word of what passed I hastenedalong the deck to my former position, and had justpassed the hatchway leading below to the saloon whensome one came running up the companion way.

In a second I rolled into the scuppers lying as stillas death.

“I fastened her all right,” protested some one.

“For Heaven’s sake, make sure. You’re not muchof a hand at sailors’ knots,” was the laughing reply.

Two men came out and hurried across the deck.One of them got down into the launch; and the otherstood watching.

“It’s all right. As fast as a steeple.”

“It would be a pretty mess if she got adrift.”

The men came on deck again and they both returnedtoward the companion way.

“I suppose everything’s all right on the deck,” saidone.

“What should be wrong?”

“Nothing. Only I’ve got an infernally uneasyfeeling.”

“Not going to back out at the last minute, are you?We shall be in a pretty bad way to-morrow night if wehave to go without the only man who knows anythingabout managing the boat.”

“Who said anything about backing out? We’reall in it now, sink or swim. But—oh, hang presentiments,”he broke off irritably.

“Well, I’ll get a lantern if you like and look roundthe deck. But it’s all rot.”

“I’ve half a mind you shall.”

[205]As he said this he came a couple of paces towardme, and I began to think any number of unpleasantthings.

“I won’t be a minute,” said the other and ran downbelow.

Move I dare not. The man was too close to me,and the instant the other returned with a light, mydiscovery was certain. All I could do was to planhow to escape. I decided to lie still until actuallydiscovered, and then trust to their astonishment,giving me time to jump over the side and swim forit.

The few seconds that followed were among thelongest of my life. But just as I heard the second mancoming with the lantern, some one below called to theman close to me by name.

“Gompez!”

He went a couple of steps down the companion wayand replied that he was going to see that all was snugon deck, and before the words were out of his mouthI was half-way to the stern.

Then followed the grimmest game of hide and seekI have ever had to play. But the odds were on myside. The two men went carefully round the deck;but, fool-like, kept together. The light of the lanternshowed me exactly where they were all the time,and by skulking from cover to cover I had littledifficulty in keeping out of their way.

My movements were absolutely noiseless, and thedark grey costume I had fortunately put on made italmost impossible for them to see me.

I had one other narrow escape. I had worked myway back again to the companion while they were inthe bows, when another man came out and called tothem sharply to be quick. I was crouched so close tohim that he could have touched me if he had stretchedout a hand in my direction.

But instead of that he went a few steps toward the[206]others and I turned and slipped away in the oppositedirection.

Two or three minutes later the three went below,the newcomer expressing a strong opinion about thefolly of having shown a light.

Giving them time to join the rest of the party below,I crawled back to the companion and settled myself tolisten once more.

Barosa’s was the first voice I heard distinctly.“We needn’t waste any more time in discussing it.Captain Gompez was quite right to satisfy himselfand as we are indebted to him for having the boat atall, it is surely ungracious to charge him with wastinga few minutes for this purpose. And now, please,will you let me explain exactly what are the arrangementsfor to-morrow? Major Sampayo has carefullyexamined these papers, and every detail is as I toldyou it would be.”

There was a murmur of interest, followed by a pause,and then Barosa spoke again.

“I have news of the greatest importance for you,gentlemen, and that you may appreciate it fully, I shallbe obliged if you will carefully study this plan of thescene.”

A considerable rustling of papers followed as theplans were handed round, the whispering of manyquestions, and then another pause of silent, almostbreathless expectancy.

THE pause was a long one before Barosa spokeagain.

“Of course we have all studied the actual ground ofwhich these are the plans, but it was best that we shouldhave them before us in settling the final details. I wasable to tell you three days ago the arrangements forDom Carlos’s private visit to the city to-morrowevening, and this later information, coming straightfrom M. Volheno’s office, confirms them. Dom Carloswill arrive at the little Eastern landing-stage at a fewminutes before eight, and will have with him twocompanions—only two. And the news I have for youis that those two companions are fast and firm adherentsof the rightful king of Portugal, His MajestyDom Miguel.”

A murmur of surprise greeted this statement, andBarosa paused in evident enjoyment of the effect hiswords had produced.

“They are Conte Carvalho Listoa and ColonelAntonio Castillo. You will agree that I do not exaggeratewhen I say that that fact makes failure impossible.He will be received by six officers of the 7thBattalion of the Royal Guards——” and he gave astring of names which I do not remember.

“These, as we know well, are also our staunch friends,pledged like ourselves to give their lives for their rightfulking. Dom Carlos will thus be without a singlesupporter, and absolutely in our power. He has, as[208]you know, made use of the same landing-stage on theoccasion of former private visits to the city, and thearrangement has always been that a carriage drew upclose to the stage. That will not be practicable to-morrow,although he does not know it. You will seetwo thin red lines on the plans. Those indicate thelines of excavations, which have been made for somesupposed building and drainage operations. I havebeen able to get that work started without creatingany suspicion as to the real object—which is to renderit impossible for a carriage to approach within fiftyyards of the landing-stage.”

“Good,” exclaimed some one and the others murmuredassent.

Barosa then explained the scheme in elaborate detail.

It was this. The king was to be met at the landing-stageand the officers were to explain why the carriagewas not in the usual place; and that it was in waitingfor him at a spot most easily reached through the smallerof two sheds used for wharfa*ge purposes. A door atthe back of this shed opened on to a narrow waybetween two buildings. The officers were not to leavethe shed, as it was deemed desirable that they shouldnot take any personal part in what followed. The twofriends of the king were to walk a few yards withhim and then excuse themselves on the plea that theyhad left something on the launch, but if this provedimpracticable, they were to drop behind.

From the door of the shed to the end of the passagewas a distance of some forty yards and a carriage wasto be in full view; but this was to be one provided byBarosa and intended for the escape of those in the plotwho would not be needed after the attempt had beencarried out. The king’s carriage, sent from the Palace,was to wait at a spot fifty yards in the other direction.

Except the two servants with Barosa’s carriage, nota man was to show himself in the path between theshed door and the carriage, lest the king’s suspicions[209]should be roused. The coachman was to signal withhis whip when the king appeared, and then to make itappear that the horses were restive and to back thempast the corner of the building on the left hand of thenarrow passage.

Round this corner the conspirators were to waitand when the king reached it, a cloak was to be thrownover his head and he was to be gagged and hurriedthrough an adjoining shed to some water steps wherethe launch would be waiting to rush him to the Rampallo,where a cabin had been specially prepared forhim. The yacht was to make at full steam for Oporto,where he was to be delivered over to the revolutionaryparty there and forced, under threat of assassination,to abdicate in favour of Dom Miguel.

After Barosa had finished his explanation, a longdiscussion followed on many of the details. The schemewas hailed with approval, but the tone of the speakersconvinced me that, while ready to take part in anabduction plot, they were against assassination, andBarosa had to give very specific assurances that nothingof the sort would be attempted.

Presently the talk turned upon the arrangementsmade to protect themselves and their friends when thetrouble came after the abduction; and as it was notvery material for me to learn that, I crept away to thebow, lowered myself noiselessly into the water, flashedmy torchlamp as a signal to Burroughs, and struck outto meet him.

“You’ve given me the fright of my life, Ralph,” hesaid when I had clambered into the Firefly. “I heardtheir launch come out, and saw a light moving aboutthe deck and didn’t know what the deuce to do.”

“It’s all right, Jack. Get back to the Stella.I’m cold to the bones, but I’ve heard enough to keepmy blood from stagnating.”

“Here’s my flask. Take a pull.”

I gulped down a couple of mouthfuls of whisky, and[210]as soon as I was on board and had had a hot bath, avigorous towelling, and some grog, I was ready to talkthings over with him.

I told him everything I had overheard. “And nowthe question is what I’m to do.”

“It’s as simple as falling off a tree. Slip off to thequay and bring off a party of police and take ’em on theyacht.”

“Yes, and get the only woman in the world I carefor arrested for conspiracy in a plot to abduct theking.”

“You could make her safety a condition.”

“With whom? Who’s to assure me of that?It’s nearly midnight. Where do you suppose thesem*n would be by the time I had roused first Volhenoand then old Franco the Dictator, and argued thematter out. And if they refused, where should I findmyself? I can tell you. In gaol until I opened mylips. I’m already half-suspect as it is. That sawwon’t cut any ice, Jack.”

“But you won’t let the thing go through, surely?”

“What’s the King of Portugal to me, and what do Icare whether his name’s Carlos or Miguel?”

“Well then, tell mademoiselle what’s going on andget her to make a bolt of it on the Stella to-morrow,and leave word behind you and queer the plan thatway.”

“There are several reasons against that, but one’senough. She wouldn’t leave her mother to bear thebrunt of things, her brother’s up to the eyes in it,and if she did bolt, she’d be under the charge all her lifelong and her flight would be accepted as proof of guilt.”

“Well, I give it up then,” he exclaimed with ashrug.

“But I don’t. I can’t. I’ve got to queer the thingsomehow and make certain of mademoiselle’s safety.And I’ve got to do it off my own bat. Wait a bit, waita bit,” I exclaimed after some minutes’ thought.[211]“I’ve got an idea coming. By the lord-knows-who,I believe it would be possible. Let’s go over thatbusiness again. He lands from the launch, goes intothe shed—there are two sheds, I remember—he goesout with his two friends, the coachman sees him andunder pretence of the horses turning restive, backs thecarriage past the corner, the two friends turn back.I wonder if both sheds have doors at the back. Iexpect so.”

“Is that Greek you’re muttering?” broke in Burroughs.

“Stand up, Jack, let’s have a look at you.”

He got up and I laughed as I looked him over.“Wait a bit, take your coat off,” and I plunged intomy cabin and fished out a thick tweed shooting coatand a soft felt hat. “Here, put these on, quick.”

He did so, muttering: “Is this a pantomime rehearsal?”

“By the lord Harry, it’ll do,” I cried excitedly,smacking my hands together.

“What’ll do?”

“Wait, man, wait. It’s all coming up like a clearphoto. How much taller am I of us two? By George,two inches. That’s a heap; but padding might takeoff some of it.”

“Perhaps you’d like to know how much thinneryou are than I am next?” he said with a grin.

“That’s just what I would,” I replied to his stillgreater surprise. “Six inches, eh. That’s a lot.”

“And muscle too, not fat, mind that.”

“But I can get over that, easily enough.”

“When you’ve a minute to spare perhaps you’ll tellme why you take this sudden interest in my anatomy?”he asked drily, as he threw off my shooting coat andput on his jacket.

“I’m going to crown you and be your Majesty’sunderstudy at the same time, King Jack Burroughs.You won’t have a long reign, my boy—only a couple[212]of minutes at most—that is if that second shed hasthe door I believe it has.”

“You’ll soon be understudying in a strait jacketat this rate, Ralph.”

“It is a little mad, perhaps, but I’m going to doit. I intend you to take the place of the king to-morrowevening long enough for this coachman tomistake you for him. I shall then take your place,the instant no one is looking, and I’m going to letthese men abduct me. It will be much easier for themthan if they got hold of the genuine article.”

“Wouldn’t it be much simpler and shorter to puta bullet in your head yourself?” he asked grimly.“You’ll find one get there all right when they know.”

“Not a bit of it. You forget the ‘divinity thatdoth hedge a king.’ These men are not assassins.They made that plain; nor are they accustomed tohandle kings every day. They’ll be so excited over thebusiness that they’ll be as nervous about ill-treatinghim as an old maid about her lap dog. They’reofficers, mind, and what we term gentlemen; andthey’ll be so scared to death lest the thing is going tofail, that they won’t want me to have so much as apeep at their faces until I’m safe on the Rampalloand locked up in the cabin which, as I heard, is alreadyin readiness for my reception. If you turn the thingover, you’ll see that if I had laid the plan myself, itcould not have suited me better;” and I ran over itagain in detail.

“When we first leave the shed you’ll be king, andBryant—I shall use Bryant because he’s a cool hand—andI will be in attendance on your Majesty. You’llbe recognized at once as the king—half Lisbon wouldmistake you for him at close grips even, and thesefellows will be expecting you—we shall walk aboutten yards and then stop while we are supposed to beasking you to excuse us; and we shan’t move on untilthe carriage has backed out of sight. I shall then take[213]your place—I shall pad myself out, you know, andmake up—and shall walk on alone straight into thetrap.”

“But why you? I could put up a bigger fightthan you.”

“There’s no fight to be put up at all, Jack.”

“You mean to let them carry you off to Oporto?You may find yourself in a tighter corner there thanyou reckon.”

“But I’m not going to Oporto. It’s 180 miles orthereabouts and, with an amateur crew, the Rampallounder the best circ*mstances wouldn’t make more thantwelve to fifteen knots; the Stella would steam roundher, and from the moment these beggars shove theiryacht’s nose out of the harbour, you’ll keep almostwithin hailing distance. That’s where I want you.They’ll shut me into the cabin and as soon as it’sdaylight I’ll hang a handkerchief or a pillow-case orsomething out of the porthole, and you’ll make troublefor my hosts.”

“Of course they’ll stop directly and say ‘thankyou, sir,’ and go down on their knees and ask me to comeon board and kick ’em,” he gibed with a heave of hisbig shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter what they say, it’s what you’lldo, Jack. Haven’t we got a couple of guns? Andcouldn’t you give the thing a pretty loud advertisem*nt?And do you think they’ll relish to have you firing aroyal salute within a league or so of the shore? Andcan’t we get some cartridges that aren’t blank in thecity to-morrow? And would they enjoy their breakfastnicely if you sent a shot into the Rampallo’s hull?Or couldn’t the old man run the Stella alongside inthe old grappling-iron style?”

“Piracy now, eh?”

“Yes, piracy, if it comes to it. But it won’t. WhatI’m after is this. Sign on an extra crew to-morrowand get ’em on the Stella quietly. When you see[214]my signal, sheer close up, fire a blank cartridge andorder them to stop. Get our men aboard somehowor anyhow; and then we’ll send the Rampallo off tosea with the whole of them in her as prisoners and keepthem away a week. By that time I shall have had timeto straighten things out in the city. And now I’ll tellyou exactly what we’ve got to do to-morrow;” and Iwent very carefully over the whole ground, filling inthe gaps and elaborating the details and mapping outthe whole of the day’s work before us.

As soon as the dawn broke, Burroughs and I steamedover to the Eastern landing-stage and made a carefulsurvey of the scene of operations. There were half adozen places where we could lie hidden in the largershed, and as I had hoped, it had an opening at theback, and the doors were so close together that itwould be difficult for any one at the spot where thecarriage was to remain to be certain which one a personleaving either would use.

I explained everything as I had planned it; andas we ran back to the Stella to snatch three or fourhours’ sleep, I arranged that Burroughs should takeBryant down to the place during the day and explainthings to him.

As soon as we were up, the skipper was called to aconsultation and his work assigned to him. He wasto engage the spare crew, buy some ball cartridgesand half a dozen pair of handcuffs, and lay in a store ofprovisions to put on the Rampallo sufficient for aweek’s cruise, if the scheme went right.

With Burroughs I went to my rooms and we explainedBryant’s part to him and sent him off toget the necessary disguises—shooting rigs such aswere in common enough use, and three light dustcoatsfor us to wear over the disguises in driving to thelanding-stage. For me he was also to get some paddingto fill out my spare figure to something like theproportions of His Majesty, and a quantity of small[215]shot, intended to increase my weight, lest my abductorsshould detect the deception when they found I wastwo or three stone lighter than their august and portlymonarch ought to be.

The arrangements of these matters occupied nearlyall the morning.

Next, I sent Burroughs to Miralda to tell her to findsome means of preventing Vasco from taking any partin the night’s work. If necessary Burroughs was tofrighten her into compliance, but not to say what wasactually on foot. If no other way could be found,Miralda was to drug Vasco. But by fair means or foul,he must be prevented from leaving the house, or hislife would be in danger.

This was essential in view of the line I meant totake with Volheno and the authorities in the event ofsuccess.

I WAS busy with the final touches to my shootingrig when Burroughs returned bringing Miralda’spromise to do what I asked.

“She is going to stop him somehow, Ralph. Ithink she’ll drug him if he gives any trouble. Hewas evidently gloriously drunk last night and heturned up this morning—his friends of the Rampallotook him back—and is all to pieces, she told me. Hehad already let out enough to scare her out of hersenses almost, and she jumped at the chance of savinghim from trouble.”

“Did she want to know things?”

“Well, what do you think? She has a way with her,too; and I was glad to get out of fire of her eyes—orshe’d have had the whole business out of me.”

“Any message for me?” I asked casually.

“No, nothing particular, of course,” he replied inthe same tone, with a grin. “I don’t wonder you’rewilling to do things now. Hanged if I wouldn’t be.She wanted to know that you weren’t running any risks;but she didn’t seem to fancy that a rough sort ofsea-dog like me was the sort of message carrier sheought to choose, so she made a postman of me;”and he put down a letter and went out of the roomsaying he wanted to tell Simmons something.

It was the first letter I had ever received fromMiralda, and I did what I suppose nine out of tenmooncalves would have done. I just sat staring at[217]the envelope for a while, as if it were an amulet witha thousand mystic virtues, and looking round tomake sure I was alone, I kissed it—yes, and morethan once, before I thought of such a commonplacething as opening it.

It was very simply worded.

It is difficult even to suggest how this letter movedme.

Like a pause of peace and hope and love in the midstof the strenuous hurly-burly of the struggle, it seemed;a favour on the lance of a knight setting out to battlefor the woman of his heart; a kiss imprinted on theshield with love’s whispered blessing. For the momentall else in the world was nothing, and Miralda was allin all. Everything was forgotten as my thoughtswandered among the fairy groves of that mystic domainof ecstatic oblivion—the rhapsody of a lover whoknows that he may hope.

“Shall I sew these shot pads together, sir?”

It was Bryant’s respectful voice, and it broughtme to earth as if I had dropped from a balloon.

“Eh? Oh. Yes. No. I’ll see to it in a moment,”I muttered incoherently, as my thoughts were knittingthemselves together. “Don’t go, Bryant;” andwith an effort I told him what I wished and sent himaway.

[218]The dream was broken, but I folded Miralda’sletter and was putting it next my heart, when commonsense prevailed over romance. I might fail. If Idid and were searched, the letter, instead of an amuletprotecting me from danger, might prove a seriousperil for her. So I lit a match, and kissed the paperonce more, and burnt it.

Then Burroughs returned to discuss where we hadbetter have the launch in waiting for him to get backto the Stella. This proved to be, however, only thepreface to a change he wished to make in the plan.

“You don’t seem to think that you’ll be in anydanger while you’re in the hands of these fellows onthe Rampallo, Ralph?”

“No. I shall take a revolver with me, of course.There’ll be plenty of chance of concealing it underall that padding.”

“Well, I’ve thought of something. When the timecomes for us to hail their boat in the morning, it wouldgive them a much bigger scare if it was you who hailedthem. I’m afraid of that part of the business, youknow.”

He spoke with such earnestness that he showed hismeaning at once. “Why not say it plump out, Jack?”I asked with a smile.

“Confound you, don’t you understand? That partof the affair will need a longer head than mine tomanage.”

“What I do understand is that you don’t agreewith me about there being no danger for the prisoneron the Rampallo and that you want to be the prisonerinstead of me. Don’t you think it’s like your infernalconceit to want to cast yourself for the star part?”

“Oh, come off,” he growled. “There’s no earthlygood in your keeping the star part for yourself.”

“Didn’t you give me the cheering opinion that Ishould find a bullet in my head when they discoveredme?”

[219]“I’m serious, Ralph.”

“Well then, answer me this. If I’m right and thereis no danger, I run no risk. And if you’re right andthere is danger, why should I shove you into it insteadof myself?”

“Fifty reasons. If anything happened to youthe whole thing would be spoilt.”

“Not a bit of it. We should still have wreckedthis little revolutionary move and you could carryout the rest of the plan with the much stronger card thatthese beggars would have to answer for what theymight have done to me.”

“Yes, but hang it all, man, there’s—there’s the girl,”he said, hesitatingly and almost nervously.

“You don’t want to make me jealous, doyou?”

“Don’t rot, Ralph. I’m in earnest.”

“The offer is just what I should expect from you,but I must see the thing through myself. If thereis any risk, it must be mine.”

“I’d much rather——”

“No, Jack,” I interposed, shaking my head. Hisoffer moved me deeply. It was just like his whole-heartedfriendship to wish to take the risk, especially ashe believed it to be much more serious than I did.Big or little, however, that risk must be mine. Buthis disappointment was both genuine and keen.

“I must go out now,” I said a moment later. “Ihave to see Dagara, and while I’m away, you’d bettertake Bryant down to the landing-stage and put himthrough his paces.”

He got up with a smile and a heave of his broadshoulders. “You’re an obstinate devil, Ralph,”he said: “and it would serve you right if I chuckedthe whole thing.”

“Look here. I’ll put it another way. If ourpositions were reversed, would you let me take thestar part?”

[220]“I don’t want any of your conundrums,” he grunted,and went off to call Bryant.

Acting on my resolve to avoid even remote risks, Itook Simmons with me to M. Volheno’s bureau.

I found Dagara on the look-out for me, and themoment I asked for M. Volheno, he came out of anadjoining room.

“M. Volheno is not in, Mr. Donnington,” he said, forthe benefit of the clerks round. “Can I be of anyassistance?”

“I only wished to ask a simple question.”

“Will you come into my room?” and he led theway.

“Well? Have you any further information forme?” I asked as soon as he had closed the door carefullybehind us.

“No, Mr. Donnington.”

“There is no change in the arrangements for HisMajesty’s arrival to-night?”

“None whatever, but—but I want to speak toyou. I can’t bear this any longer. I have decidedto tell M. Volheno everything.”

If he did anything of the sort, of course there wasan end to all my plans, and therefore to all my hopesof getting Miralda out of the trouble. But it wouldnot do to let him see it.

“I think you are quite right.”

He was as much surprised as I intended him to be.“I scarcely expected you to agree so readily. Butafter my promise to you, I felt I must let you knowfirst.”

“I am not involved, M. Dagara. You are in a verytrying position—purgatory, as you term it—but yourruin and imprisonment cannot in any way affect any onebut yourself and your wife and children, ofcourse.”

“My wife and children?” he echoed blankly.

“No, not your children, perhaps. Your friends[221]will no doubt be able to take care of them. Yourwife, only, I should have said.”

“But she has had nothing to do with this betrayalof information.”

I perceived then that he had not decided to confess,but was only contemplating the step. “You arerather shortsighted, surely, if you think that thosewhom you are going to give up to justice will notretaliate. You must reckon that they will do theirutmost to be revenged, and that utmost will includeyour wife.”

“You don’t think I should confess, then?”

“On the contrary, I think you should have toldeverything long ago; but you might have taken theprecaution of sending your wife out of the country.Is she strong enough to bear imprisonment? Youknow what hells your Portuguese prisons are.”

“It would kill her in a week,” he groaned.

“It is clearly your duty, but I am sorry forher.”

“I have not the means to send her away. O God,I’d kill myself if I dared, but that would only leaveher destitute and at the mercy of the men who havedestroyed me.”

“You have destroyed yourself,” I said sternly.“But I have no time to discuss this with you. Sofar as I am concerned, I prefer that you include everydetail of our interview yesterday in your confessionto M. Volheno. Hide nothing, for I have nothingto fear.”

Having made him believe that I was indifferent, Irose and turned to the door, and then paused.

“I don’t know that I have quite understood one thingyou said—about not having means to send your wifeaway. Does that mean that you have no money.”

“Yes,” he replied disconsolately. “My salary isnot large and I cannot save.”

“Oh, if that’s all, you must allow my pity for your[222]wife and children to take a practical shape. Howmuch money would she require?”

“I don’t know,” he said, wringing his handsfatuously.

“Try and think it out, then;” and while he wasdoing this I turned my side of the matter over andcame to the conclusion that as his presence was amenace to Miralda’s safety, the sooner he was out ofLisbon the better. The moment this abduction plotfailed, a dozen informers were certain to offer evidence,and he and his wife would certainly be accused.

“About two hundred and fifty milreis, Mr. Donnington,”he said, looking up at last.

“Well, you asked my advice just now, and I’ll giveit you. You are ill both in mind and body. Anyone can see that, and in such a condition, no one canform a calm judgment. Ask M. Volheno to give youa fortnight’s holiday and leave the country to-night.I will give you double the sum you ask for now. Goto Paris and give your address to M. Madrillo, at theSpanish Embassy. He will let me know it and I willsend you another two hundred and fifty milreis, andwill let you know the position here.”

I put the money on the table and the tears werein his eyes as he seized my hand and pressed it in bothof his.

“Don’t give way, man. If I find that it is notsafe for you to return here, I will interest myself tofind you employment either in Paris or elsewhere.Don’t thank me, but prove your gratitude by goingstraight for the future;” and I hurried away. It wasworth many times the money to secure the delay forMiralda, and his excessive gratitude tended to makeme feel rather mean.

Burroughs and Bryant had not returned when Ireached my rooms, so I went once more carefullyover every detail of my scheme in a kind of mentalrehearsal. There was only one point which gave me[223]any qualms now. We three had to get into the shedon the wharf without being seen and conceal ourselves,and yet be able to learn the precise moment of theking’s arrival.

Burroughs had been worrying over the same thing,it turned out, and had not been idle.

“We’ve made a useful friend, Ralph,” he said whenhe arrived. “Got hold of the wharf watchman.He’s a Spaniard, and Bryant’s Spanish came in veryhandy. He managed to find out how things go downthere. He shuts the big shed at seven o’clock andwe must be inside before then. We can manage it allright. That Bryant has his head screwed on theright way. He promised to go to the man’s house to-nightat nine o’clock; so that if we show up abouthalf-past six, he’s going to meet him and take himaway while he explains why he can’t keep the appointment.We shall slip in then, and Bryant will getrid of him and join us by the back entrance. A screwdriverwill do the rest.”

“A screwdriver.”

“We had a good look at the lock on that back doorand five minutes will have it off.”

“I’d been worrying about that part of the thing.But time’s getting on. We’d better have somethingto eat and get ready.”

The business of dressing occupied some time. Weall wore the hunting rigs over our ordinary clothes;as both Burroughs and Bryant were to get rid of theirsas soon as possible after the purpose for which theywere needed was achieved.

We sent Simmons and Foster off to the yacht andlocked the flat up for the night.

We looked rather like three squat square Dutchmenas we set off; but the long grey dustcoats renderedus sufficiently inconspicuous, and as the weatherhad changed and the light was bad, we attracted noattention in the streets.

[224]The wind was rising and a light rain falling, andthere was every promise of a somewhat dirty night.This was all the better for our purpose.

When we were near the landing-stage, Bryant wenton ahead in search of the new friend he had made andpresently we saw the two together close to the sheds.They stood talking for a few minutes and then walkedaway, and disappeared round the end of the furtherbuilding.

“He lives over that way,” said Burroughs. “Wemay safely go.”

The rain was falling fast now and the wind comingin gusty squalls across the bay and not a soul was tobe seen as we slipped into the shed.

We hid ourselves among a large quantity of hay, andwere scarcely settled when some one else entered theshed, and I heard him clamber among some big packingcases. I jumped to the conclusion that either we hadbeen seen or that Volheno had decided to put a policeagent on the watch.

I dared not speak to Burroughs, and in this tryinguncertainty we waited until the watchman entered,gave a casual glance round with his lantern, and thenlocked the doors.

I racked my wits to know what to do about theunwelcome interloper. Bryant might come to theback entrance at any minute, and we should beinstantly discovered.

Then to my profound relief I heard his voice.

“Are you there, sir?” he asked in a whisper.

“Phew, how that shook me up!” exclaimed Burroughs.“How did you get in, Bryant?”

“I got rid of the man at his house door as he wasgoing to fetch his overalls, so I came on at once, sir.”

“All right. But I wish you had said who you were.Get to work with that lock.”

In a few minutes all was ready and we waitedanxiously for the sound of the king’s approach.

[225]We heard the arrival of the officers in the adjoiningshed and could even catch the low hum of their voices.

The suspense was not a little trying; and I wasintensely glad when the whistle of a launch announcedthat the king was coming.

WHENEVER I read of an actor playing for thefirst time a part which is to make or mar hisreputation, my thoughts fly back to that wet squallyevening on the Lisbon water-front. The big warehousewith its piles of varied merchandise; thecuriously composite smell with its predominatingscent of hay; the creaking of the tall slide doors at thefront as the wind dashed at them and whistled throughthe crevices and whispered and rustled in the cavernousgloom of the building, the hiss and spume of thewaters of the bay, and Burroughs, Bryant and Igrouped together by the smaller door as I stood listeningintently for the cue to “go on.”

I was, and yet was not, nervous. That is, I was sureof myself and confident of success, was quite cool, andhad not a thought of shrinking from the scene to beplayed; but at the same time my pulses were beatingvery fast, my tongue was dry, and I kept moisteningmy lips and biting them, and I could not keep myhands still nor my fingers from fidgetting, and I amsure I was very pale.

I knew that success or failure might turn upon mygiving the signal to leave the shed at exactly the rightmoment. If I went too soon, the men waiting at theend of the narrow passage would know the king hadnot had time to pass through the shed from thelaunch. If I delayed too long, the king himselfmight come out before the “abduction” had takenplace.

[227]Yet I had nothing to guide me. After the whistleof the launch we could not hear a sound to indicatewhat was passing—the racket of the wind made thatimpossible. Had I foreseen this, I saw how simplyI could have avoided this perplexity. A hole or twobored in the big gates or a brick loosened in the partitionwall between the two sheds would have sufficed;and I cursed my stupidity in having lost sight of theprecaution.

“Can you hear anything?” I whispered to Burroughs,but both he and Bryant were in the samedismayed perplexity as I.

“There seems a hitch somewhere,” he whisperedback.

“Well, I shan’t wait any longer,” I decided a momentlater, and I opened the door with as little noise aspossible.

It creaked horribly on the hinges, however, andjammed half-way, and I caught my breath, fearingthat the wrench I had to give it must surely be heardby those in the adjoining shed. Then the wind camerushing through with most disconcerting violence;and I only just succeeded in preventing the door fromslamming to with a tell-tale bang.

“A bold face on it, and we shall soon know,” I saidas we started through the drenching rain squall.

Burroughs went in front with Bryant close to hisside, while I kept behind as I did not wish the manwho was on the look-out to see that there were tworeplicas of the king’s august person.

The rain gave us invaluable help, for it renderedimpossible any exact recognition of us by the man onthe watch.

We walked some ten yards along the narrow passagebefore he even saw us. Then he waved his whip,jerked at his horses, and began to back them past theend of the building to our left.

At that moment the strenuous excitement was[228]relieved by a touch of the ludicrous. In the preoccupationof the period of suspense I had forgottento stick on the false moustache without which anyimposture would have been instantly detected.

I called to the others to halt a moment, and fishingthe thing out of my pocket I dabbed it on, and hadto hold it in its place by crinkling my upper lip againstmy nose.

Burroughs and Bryant turned back; and I pulledmy felt hat well down over my face, held my headdown as if to avoid the pelting rain and hurried onalone.

On reaching the corner I purposely quickened mypace, and as I turned, something was thrown overmy head, a hand was clapped to my mouth—outsidethe cloak fortunately, otherwise it might have beenmy moustache only which would have been abducted—andI was lifted off my feet and carried bodilyaway.

I made a pretence of struggling.

“No harm will happen to you unless you resist ortry to cry out,” said a voice sternly.

I felt I could safely desist, therefore, and let themcarry me the rest of the distance to the launch, whereI was placed in the little deckhouse with a couple ofmen to hold me down.

I made another feeble struggle then, and once moreI was ordered with threats to lie still.

In the struggle I managed to get my hands up tomy face and luckily found the moustache which Istuck on again.

Almost immediately afterwards, I was turned facedownwards, and the covering cloak or cloth or whateverit was, was pulled back sufficiently to allow ofa revolver being thrust against my head.

“If you dare even to look round, I shall fire,” saidthe same voice, and I replied with an appropriateshiver of fear. I chuckled as I realized that the men[229]were as anxious I should not see their faces as I wasthat they should not see mine.

Next I felt a hand on my forehead, my face was liftedan inch or two, and a thick wide scarf, in which a gagwas fastened, was wound twice round my head andfastened at the back, and then my hands were tiedbehind me.

It was extremely uncomfortable, of course, and Ihad great difficulty in breathing, but that was all.A very small discount from the success which I hadscored.

After that I was left to my own meditations, andI guessed that I was not one whit less excited or ill atease than my captors. My one qualm was whetherthe scarf would be taken off before I was left in thecabin which was in readiness for me on the Rampallo.If it was, then the confounded moustache wouldassuredly go with it and that farcical incident mightprove to be the curtain raiser to a very serious dramaand possibly a tragedy.

But the men’s unwillingness to let me see their faceswas a fact of auspicious promise, and I judged thattheir reluctance would not lessen until they werepractically certain their desperate venture had succeeded.So long as failure was a possible contingency,it would be practicable for them to make a bolt of itin a body, with much less risk of recognition than if“His Majesty” had seen that his abductors wereofficers whom he knew well by sight and probably byname.

Nor could they be absolutely certain of success untilthe Rampallo was many knots on her way to Oporto.They would naturally calculate that the abductionwould be discovered almost at once; and were nodoubt afraid that the authorities would be roused toprompt and energetic action, with the result that theyacht might be stopped before she could get out ofthe river.

[230]I persuaded myself, therefore, that the risk of myimpersonation being detected was over for some hoursat least, and as this was the most comforting thoughtfor me, there was no good purpose to be gained byanticipating trouble.

The launch was a vile sea boat. She kicked aboutand tossed and pitched like the ill-behaved co*ckle-shellshe was, and, as I was powerless to help myself, Irolled about the floor like a bale of goods or a veryintoxicated monarch; and the man in charge understoodneither how to manage her properly nor howto make matters easier for his “king.”

I was heartily glad, therefore, when we bumpedalongside the Rampallo and I was hoisted aboard.They handled me with all the clumsiness of nervousamateurs, and I think that was the moment of mygreatest peril, for the launch danced and bobbedabout so much that they nearly dropped me intothe river.

But they did not unfasten the scarf, and I wastaken below into a cabin, laid on the berth, my handsstill tied and the gag in position, and locked in.

Had they peeped in a few minutes later they wouldhave been considerably surprised. They were as greatbunglers in tying my hands as they were in managingthe launch, and I had not the least difficulty in wrigglingmy arms free. A vigorous tug tore off the head-gear,wig, and all, and as there were a couple ofserviceable bolts on the door I shot them home softly,and indulged in the luxury of unimpeded breathing.It had not occurred to them apparently, that“His Majesty” might be quite as anxious to keepthem out of the cabin as they were to keep him in;otherwise they would have removed the door fastenings.

Then I closed the porthole and covered it over,took off the shot-weighed shooting rig, and withmy revolver ready at hand, I threw myself at fulllength on the bunk to cool and wait for the next act.

[231]I was in darkness, of course, but by feeling the handsof my watch I found the time to be just nine o’clock.It would be dawn between four and five; and I hadthus some seven or eight hours to wait before signallingto Burroughs on the Stella. I was now quite easy inmind about the issue, and as no one could enter thecabin without making noise enough to wake me, therewas no reason why I should not go to sleep.

The yacht was under weigh almost as soon as Iwas placed in the cabin and, so far as I could gaugethe speed, was making no more than from ten totwelve knots.

I was just dropping off to sleep when some one triedthe door and was apparently very much astonished tofind it fastened on my side. It must have seemedsomething like a conjuring trick for a “king” gaggedand bound, as I was, to have accomplished such a feat.

I took no notice, of course. There was some whisperedconsultation followed by more knocking and morewhispering, and then I was left at peace. They concluded,no doubt, that as they could force the doorat any time, there was no use in doing so until we werenear Oporto; and that if I preferred to remain gagged,instead of allowing them to release me, the “royal”prerogative entitled me to punish myself.

Anyhow, they went away and I went to sleep, anddid not wake until the dawn was breaking. I hadvery little doubt that I passed a more comfortablenight than any one else on the yacht.

I opened the porthole and shoving my head throughwas intensely pleased to see the Stella under easysteam about a mile astern. I waved a towel as asignal to the skipper to close up, and having edgedit and left it fluttering, I looked carefully to see thatmy revolver was loaded, and sat down to speculate asto what form the crisis would take.

As the Stella could steam two knots to the Rampallo’sone, a few minutes after my signal was observed would[232]bring matters to a head. But those minutes mightbring trouble my way, of course.

The first sign of it was a hurried trampling of feeton the deck over my head, followed almost directly by aloud knocking at my cabin door and an angry demandfor me to open it.

I let them knock and call as they pleased and thensome one said that the door was to be broken in. But Idid not wish that to be done and did wish to makedelay, so I rapped back loudly with the butt of myrevolver.

“Open the door at once,” came in loud angry tones.

Putting my handkerchief to my mouth I yelledback a lot of muffled unintelligible gibberish. Analtercation followed in which they continued to callto me to open and I replied with the same sort of rotand played with the bolts as if fumbling in an attemptto unfasten them.

In this way I gained two or three invaluable minutes,and a glance out of the porthole showed me that theStella was coming up very fast.

Their impatience drove them to act at last; and thefirst blow was struck to force the way in.

“Wait. I’ll open it,” I shouted.

I drew the bolts and stepped back as a hail cameacross the water in Burroughs’ stentorian tones.

There are many ways of showing astonishment, andmost of them were conspicuous as the door flew openand four men started to rush in and then jumped backfrom my levelled weapon.

“Well, gentlemen, I should like to know what thedevil you mean by kidnapping me in this way,” I sangout and then, to their further astonishment, I burstout laughing.

If my life had depended upon my keeping serious,I could not have helped laughing at the ridiculous figuresthey cut. It was not so much their boundless amazementat seeing me instead of the king, nor their quick[233]retreat from my weapon, but their general appearancewhich was so irresistibly comic.

They wore neither coat, waistcoat, nor collar, theirtrousers were rolled up to the knees, in their shirts offinest linen were gold studs and the sleeves were rolledup to the elbows, their boots were faultless in fit,all four wore gloves, and two of them carried pince-nez;while from the top to toe they were smotheredin a mixture of machine oil, perspiration and coaldust.

They looked for all the world like amateur greasersbadly made up and coming straight from the comicopera stage.

“Who are you and where is——” stammered oneof them, when a companion stopped him and steppedforward.

“Leave this to me,” he said and then to me: “Whoare you?”

“I am the king of Portugal, of course—Dom Carlos,”I replied, trying to keep my face straight. “Whereis Captain Gompez?”

“I am Captain Gompez.”

“I’m afraid you’ve had rather a rough night of it,captain. Stokehole work is trying for an amateur.”

“Who are you, sir? I’m in no mood for fooling.”

“I should think not after such an experience. Butas you are the owner of this boat, tell me why youbrought me here?”

As I said this I saw one of the younger men—a red-headed,fiery-looking fellow—pull off his gloves furtivelyand begin to reach for his hip pocket. “Ifeither of you attempts to draw on me I shall fire atwhoever’s nearest to me,” I sang out in a very differenttone.

Captain Gompez was the nearest and he promptlyturned and stopped the fellow who then tried to sneakaway.

But I wouldn’t have that either. “You stop just[234]where you are,” I said. “I’m like your leader here—inno mood for fooling.”

At this moment Burroughs fired the blank cartridgefrom the Stella, and some one called excitedly forCaptain Gompez.

Taken aback by the unexpected development, allfour started and I took advantage of the momentwhen their eyes were off me to grab hold of the captainand drag him into the cabin and then slammed thedoor to and shot home one of the bolts.

“Now we can talk this——”

Before I could finish the sentence he flung himselfupon me with an oath in a desperate effort to grabmy weapon, while he shouted to the others to breakin the door.

Like a fool I had allowed myself to be taken bysurprise, and in a second he had me pinned againstthe wall and at a terrible disadvantage.

I could not use my weapon, and my life dependedon my preventing him from getting it.

CAPTAIN GOMPEZ was about my own heightbut very strong, as agile as a cat, and mad withrage. Under equal conditions I should have had nochance in such a struggle with him. Fortunately forme, however, the conditions were not equal.

He had been up all night, hard at work in laboriousand unusual toil. He was responsible for the managementof the Rampallo and had had to teach his crewof amateurs their work, and he was also the leaderin this critical part of the abduction plot. The combinedstrain of all this had told on him and made tremendousdemands upon his strength and endurance.

At the same time, he had the two most powerfulmotives which can drive a man to set his life on anissue such as that involved in this attack on me. Heknew that in some way I had thwarted the plot, andthe knowledge filled him with a frenzy of rage, whilehe believed that, on his success in overpowering me,depended not only his own safety but that of all whowere relying upon his leadership. This rendered himdesperate.

My advantage was that I was as fresh as paint afterthe hours of sleep I had had during the night; and Ifelt that if I could hold my own in the first minutes ofthe affair, the frantic efforts he was making would tirehim out and give me the victory. Time would give meanother advantage. The Stella would soon be alongside,[236]when Burroughs would quickly have commandof the Rampallo.

The struggle between us began in a somewhat curiousfashion. The attack had taken me by surprise, as Ihave said, and forced me back against the side of thecabin. As he grabbed for the revolver, I shot myright hand up as high as I could stretch it, to hold theweapon out of his reach. You may have seen one childuse a similar tactic when teasing another, and youmay know how difficult it is to bend an arm held rigidin such a position, when there is no marked advantagein height.

That was the problem the captain had to solve,and he fought with tremendous energy. He heldmy right wrist in his left, tugging and straining tolever it down so that he might venture to release hisright, which held my left in a grip of steel, and grabthe prize.

His shouts to the others to break the door openwere not answered, and he soon ceased to call, concentratingall his strength in the struggle for my weapon.

He displayed such strength that I realized he wouldbeat me before the energy which frenzy gave him wasexhausted; and as I was convinced that the first usehe would make of his victory would be to put abullet into my head, I resolved to empty the revolveras a defensive measure.

I fired three shots in rapid succession when he suddenlyreleased my left arm and fastened both handson my right wrist and tugged and strained at it in thedesperate effort to drag the weapon within his reach.

This was more than I could resist, and I thoughthe would dislocate my shoulder and wrench the sinews.But I succeeded in discharging two more cartridges beforemy power of resistance was broken, and then I let theweapon fall and at the same moment I got my lefthand on his throat and pressing my foot against thewall pushed him violently backwards.

[237]The manœuvre took him by surprise and he slippedand fell, dragged me down with him, to resume thestruggle under different conditions. I had someadvantage now, however. I was top dog. But hewrithed and wriggled with such agility that I couldmake little use of my position.

He fought at this stage like a savage. He kickedme viciously, butted my face with his head, triedevery trick to get his hands on my throat, writhingthe while like a snake to change his position so thathe could wriggle back to the spot where the revolverlay, the possession of which meant life or death to meand freedom or ruin to him.

Again I realized that he was the better man andthat I was going to be beaten. By a very clever movementhe got me again at a terrible disadvantage. Iwas holding on to his throat when he twisted to oneside, drew his knees up with a sudden jerk and thrustone of his feet into the pit of my stomach with suchforce as to drive the wind clean out of me. My gripon his throat relaxed and I fell back sick and dizzyand beaten.

Only the merest luck saved my life then. As I fell,my hand came in contact with the revolver and Igripped it and pulled the trigger. Even as the shotflashed, he was on to me; and he wrenched the weaponfrom me, and pulled the trigger three or four times atmy head in the hope that there was still a cartridgeleft.

Maddened with rage and disappointment he raisedit and tried to strike me on the head; but I hadsense enough to protect myself with my arms, and thenmy rage began to lend me strength. I grappled withhim again, and as the effects of the kick passed offand I recovered my wind, I renewed the fight.

I was in a very different mood now. He had attemptedto take my life and I no longer tried merely to exhausthis strength. I fought like a madman. For the[238]moment, indeed, I was mad, crazed with blood lust,white-hot for revenge.

Disappointment at finding the weapon, which hehad striven so frantically to gain, useless, disheartenedhim; his strength was nearly used up and he hadno passion left to answer to that which burned like afever in me.

I got him under me again, my left hand fastened onhis throat while I dashed my fist again and againinto his face, finding a brutal pleasure in the punishmentI inflicted, until his resistance weakened and helay still and helpless.

Then I rose and sat on the berth, breathing hardand watching him as if he were some dangerous wildbeast who had mauled me and from whose fangs I hadonly just escaped with my life—as indeed I had.

I was not seriously hurt. That kick of his had onlywinded me. My arms were painful from the blows Ihad received from the revolver in shielding my head,but they were only bruised, and I had every causeto be glad matters were no worse.

Nor was my opponent badly injured. His face wasdamaged and his lips swollen and bleeding, but theblood was chiefly from his nose; and he soon recoveredsufficiently to sit up.

His first movement brought me to my feet, but hehad no strength left to make any fight. Moreovermy own rage had cooled and, to tell the truth, I wasa little ashamed of my savagery; so I made no effortto interfere with him.

He spat out some of the blood from his mouth andhad plenty more on his face, so I threw him a towel.

“Are you going to try any more of this?” Iasked.

He was wiping his face with the towel, and pausedto look up at me, shook his head, and continued histask.

At that moment the Stella came alongside with a[239]force which sent a shiver through the Rampallo fromstern to stern; and the sounds of the trampling ofmany feet on the deck above our heads followed.

“What’s that?” he exclaimed and started to scrambleup.

“You’ll find it safer to stop just where you are,”I said curtly.

He glanced up at me and, not liking my looks,abandoned the attempt. “What is the meaning ofit all?” he asked sullenly.

“I was on this boat the night before last when youwere all discussing your plans and I decided to playthe king’s part in this business.”

“You?” and he ran his eyes over my much slighterform.

“You’ll find the remainder of His Majesty under thebunk here; the shot-weighted clothes and all the restof it.”

“And what’s your object?”

“Never mind. I had one and have gained it. Myyacht, the Stella, followed us all through the night;and the row up there means that my men have justcome aboard.”

The racket on deck was dying down now and I soonheard Burroughs calling my name loudly and anxiously.

“Donnington! Ralph! Where are you?”

I opened the cabin door and answered him.

“Is all well with you?” he cried, eagerly. “Iwas getting worried about you.”

“It’s all right, Jack, but it was touch and go,owing to Captain Gompez here, the leader of the lot.”

“Been making trouble, has he? Have you left anykick in him?”

“What are you going to do with us?” interposedGompez.

“Send you to sea for a week in charge of my friendhere, Mr. Burroughs—and a crew chosen from my ownyacht. At the end of that time I shall probably hand[240]you over to the authorities with a full statement ofall this.”

“I protest——” he began angrily.

“Waste of time,” I cut in laconically. “Bring himalong to the rest, Jack.”

We went to the yacht’s saloon where the otherprisoners were. Burroughs had done things thoroughly.There were seven of them, and he had handcuffedthem all and put a couple of men over them, withloaded revolvers.

“I’m taking no risks, Ralph,” said Burroughs inexplanation, and then fastened Captain Gompez’wrists in similar fashion.

A more dejected forlorn set of men I had never casteyes on. Grimed from head to foot, worn out withsleeplessness, toil and anxiety, they were broken by theutter defeat of their scheme and the certainty thatruin, disgrace, dishonour and possibly death was allthey had to face. Two or three had dozed off, andthe rest turned as I entered and looked at me withlack-lustre eyes without even the energy to showanger.

Among those who were asleep, or feigning sleep,was Sampayo. He was in a corner at the far end, hisface averted and his head sunk on his breast. Thearrival of the Stella had warned him that I was at thebottom of the trouble, and he and the red-headedyoung fellow who had tried to draw on me beforehad been the only ones to give trouble; but they hadgained nothing by it except a crack on the head.

Sampayo was not of course aware that I knew hewas on board, and his present attitude was probablydue to the hope that he would escape my notice.

“You can tell your companions my decision, CaptainGompez,” I said, and went away with Burroughsto arrange for the stores to be transferred from theStella and discuss the steps he was to take to guardagainst any trouble from the prisoner-passengers.

[241]“I shall run no risks, Ralph. I’ve been lookinground and I can separate them and shall keep themfastened up. The old man and I discussed the courseI’d better lay. There’s none too much coal on board,so I shall steam due west for a day and if the weatherholds good shall just crawl about until the time’sup, and I’ve arranged where he can pick us up if youwant to before the week’s out. And of course I shallkeep well away from any vessels that may came along.”

The two yachts were still roped together, and whilethe stores were transferred I went down to the “king’s”cabin and told Burroughs to send Sampayo to me.

“I have sent for you to write a brief letter to Dr.Barosa telling him what has occurred,” I said withoutpreface.

“What use are you going to make of it?”

“Just what I decide. It is possible that I may notspeak of this thing at all.”

“I’ll tell you everything if you’ll put me ashore,”he said after a pause.

“Characteristic, but out of the question.”

“Then I won’t write a word.”

“Very well. Then I’ll get one of the others.”

He looked at me eagerly, as if my words suggesteda hope that matters would be made easier if he complied.“Why do you want to hound us down?”

“So far as you are concerned, your old companion,Prelot, will do that.”

He caught his breath with a shudder at the mentionof the name. “That letter to Barosa will do nogood. After you showed you knew about me, I beggedand prayed him to do the only thing that would getrid of you—and he refused.”

He paused as if waiting for me to question him.

“He is mad with his love for Mademoiselle Dominguez,”he continued after a pause. “I said that ifhe would let me break with her, you would go away.He would not. It was he who planned that attempt[242]on your life the same night. He was with Henriques.He is mad, I say. And nothing, not even this, willturn him from his purpose. He knows somethingabout that South African affair of mine, but not all.He has had nearly all my money, he forced this farceof an engagement with Mademoiselle Dominguez,and his intention was to use the influence he wouldhave if a revolution was provoked to force her tomarry him. That’s why she has been dragged intoit, and he would sacrifice every man of us rather thanlose her. He would have been betrothed to her openly,but he could not break with the Contesse Inglesia.Now you know everything.”

“I knew most of that before,” I replied drily.“But how did you get the visconte’s consent?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “He could not help himself.He was in this thing also to some extent, butBarosa found out that he had been stealing his wife’smoney and I was put to threaten him with exposureif he refused. I have been Barosa’s slave for months,curse him.”

There was no mistaking the bitter sincerity ofthis.

“You will do no good with the letter you want.It is more probable that you will find that he fledfrom the city the moment he knew this thing had failedand took Mademoiselle Dominguez with him. But ifhe is still there, and still hopes to provoke a revolution,your only means of dealing with him will bethrough the Contesse Inglesia. Rouse her jealousy,and you may succeed. I would have done it, but Idared not.”

I did not let him see my alarm at his suggestionthat Barosa had forced Miralda to fly with him, butI determined to get back to Lisbon as fast as the Stellacould carry me.

I took Sampayo back to the rest, wrote a line:—“Weare prisoners in the hands of Mr. Ralph Donnington,[243]who knows everything;” and obtained the signaturesof them all to it; and then hurried up on deck.

The Stella was just casting off, and with a last handshakewith Burroughs, I jumped on board.

“How long will it take us to get back to port, captain?”I asked the skipper, who had good news forme.

“We’re not much more than thirty-five knots out,”he said. “These fools couldn’t get more than a fewknots an hour out of the Rampallo and didn’t evenknow enough to keep a straight course. They’ve beenzigzagging about all night. Never saw such lubbers.”

“Well, let her rip. I must be back at the earliestmoment. Get all you can out of her.”

Sampayo’s words had fired me with impatience.A burning fever of unrest had seized me and I shouldnot know a second’s peace until I had assured myselfof Miralda’s safety.

The bare thought that she might be in Barosa’spower and that the very act by which I had striven andrisked so much to win her, might prove to be the meansof losing her, was torture unutterable.

The instant we were in the river I had the launchlowered and jumped into her and shot away to thequay.

A few minutes now would tell me the best or theworst.

SAMPAYO’S statement had not only roused myfears for Miralda’s safety but had also decidedme not to have any further dealings at all with Barosa.As soon as I had satisfied myself that she was notin any danger from him, I would go straight to Volhenoand tell him about the abduction plot and how it hadbeen frustrated.

I could make a full statement of that without inany way violating the pledge of secrecy I had given toBarosa. That pledge did not include either myprevious knowledge that he was an agent of the Pretender,Dom Miguel, or anything I had overheardon the Rampallo and the results.

I would keep my word in regard to all that had occurredin the Rua Catania house and in the otherhouse in the Rua Formosa, where I had been subjectedto the “test”; and should not give the namesof any one whose connexions with the plot I had learntbefore my spy work on Captain Gompez’ yacht.

My intention was to make one condition—thatMiralda, her mother, the visconte, Vasco and, if possible,Dagara, should be pardoned for their complicityin the affair. They had been forced into the net byBarosa’s tortuous cunning, and that I could proveif put to it.

I felt that I had a perfect right to impose such acondition as the price of my services. I had thwartedthe abduction plot, and my own experiences proved[245]that, but for me, nothing would have saved the king.Moreover, I had risked my life—had very nearlylost it, indeed—and, although I had chosen my ownmethod instead of turning informer in advance, thatwas my own concern. But the result had been entirelysuccessful, for it had led to my taking a batch of themen in it red-handed.

In making this decision to go at once to Volheno, Ihad none but personal considerations. I had no interestin the political issues involved in the strugglebetween the Throne and the people. They were nothingto me. The Government managed their ownaffairs in their own way; and if I had been fool enoughto have offered them suggestions, they would havelaughed at me for an impertinent interfering puppy.

At the same time, the part of informer was a profoundlyhateful one to play, and if I could have gainedmy end as easily and safely by dealing direct withBarosa, I should have preferred that method.

But he was too dangerous a man. I had far too highan opinion of his ability, shrewdness and resourceto believe for an instant that I could pit myself againsthim. It was much more by accident than anythingelse that I had obtained the whip-hand over him now;and it would be sheer folly to run the risk of givinghim an opportunity to outwit me, when a word toVolheno would lay him by the heels.

I took Bryant and Simmons ashore with me. I sentthe latter up to my rooms and, as I deemed it bestnot to go about alone, I drove with Bryant to Miralda’shouse and left him in the carriage to wait for me.

My anxiety on Miralda’s account rendered me nervouslyuneasy. This feeling quickened into alarm whenthe servant told me she was not in the house. Theviscontesse was at home and I sent a message beggingher to see me at once.

The instant she entered the room I read ill news inher manner and looks. She was greatly agitated,[246]her face was white and drawn, her eyes full oftrouble, and she appeared both surprised andangry to see me. She drew back and would not takemy hand. “You asked for me, Mr. Donnington?I wonder you dare to come here, sir.”

“Dare to come?” I repeated, bewildered by thisreception.

“Why is not Miralda with you?”

The question filled the cup of my alarm and amazement.

“There is some mistake, viscontesse. I have justlanded from my yacht and have come straight hereto see her.”

“For Heaven’s sake do not try to deceive me. Iknow what has happened. It was cruel and shameful.I have been beside myself with grief and suspense.”

“I give you my word of honour I have not seenMiralda since the day before yesterday.”

She stared at me as if unable to believe or even understandme. “Have not seen her?” she repeatedhoarsely, after a pause. “Oh, that cannot be true.”

“I assure you most earnestly and solemnly that itis true.”

As the conviction of my sincerity was forced uponher, her expression changed. The trouble in her wide,staring eyes gave place to unmistakable terror inspiredby her new thoughts. Suddenly she reeled,threw up her hands in despair, and then clasped themdistractedly to her face and sank on a couch with amoan of anguish.

“Then she is arrested or dead. Heaven have mercyupon my dear, dear child,” she cried, a prey tooverpowering emotion.

I was scarcely less alarmed by this most disconcertingnews, and while the viscontesse was striving torecover some measure of self-command, I tried torealize all it meant and to think what to do.

[247]“Don’t go, Mr. Donnington,” she said at lengthin the midst of her sobs; and I waited, tormented bya thousand vague fears.

“I beg you to tell me all as soon as possible. Evenminutes may be of vital importance,” I said earnestly.

She made an effort to check her wild sobs. “Butwe cannot do anything,” she wailed helplessly.

“Not unless you can let me know what has happened,”I replied sharply. “If anything is to be done,it must be at once.”

“I will try to tell you,” she said a minute later,sitting up.

“I know that Miralda was here yesterday,” I said,“because I sent to her and received a letter fromher. That was early in the afternoon. Will you tellme everything that occurred after that?”

“I know very little, Mr. Donnington. In the afternoonInez came and the two were alone together. Miraldacame to me afterwards and I saw that she wasboth greatly excited and distressed. It was in someway connected with this miserable conspiracy business.She told me that something very important was tohappen; but that she herself did not know what itwas. She was to go for the evening to Inez. I wasin great trouble about Vasco, you know. He was inbed ill—he had been drinking heavily the night before,I must tell you.”

“Did he leave the house yesterday?” I interposed.

“No. He was getting better toward the eveningand said he had to go out; but I went up later andfound him sleeping so soundly that I could not rousehim.”

“Was Miralda in the house then?”

“No, she had been gone about half an hour. Well, Iwaited by his bedside for a long time, an hour or more—Icould not say how long. When Inez arrived I wentdown to her, and she asked me where Miralda was. Isaid she had gone to her house. She had never reached[248]there, however; and then Inez said she had somethingvery serious to tell me. It was that Miralda hadbeen in secret communication with you, and thatas some of their friends suspected you of havingbetrayed them in some way, Miralda had also fallenunder suspicion. She had disappeared, and one ofthree things must be the cause. She had beenarrested, or had got into the hands of those whosuspected her, or had run away with you.”

“Can you fix the time the contesse was here?”

“Not that first visit, but she came again aboutten o’clock, bringing the news that your yacht hadleft the river and that it was plain that Miralda hadgone with you.”

So the Stella had been missed, it seemed.

“What I tell you is true, viscontesse; I have notseen Miralda.”

“You think she has been arrested then?”

“It is impossible to be certain—but I do not thinkit.”

“Oh, but don’t tell me you believe she has falleninto the hands of any of these people who will do hermischief? They would kill her.”

“Oh, no; I am certain that there is no fear of that.”I was, for it was as clear as anything could be thatBarosa would not allow anything of the sort.

“You are so positive. Do you know anything thatmakes you so?”

“Yes; but I cannot tell you.”

“You get to learn so much. I suppose you knowthat my husband has left the city.”

“No. When was that?”

“You warned him one afternoon that he wasunder suspicion; and he left the next night. Hehas gone to Paris.”

“Would to Heaven you and Miralda had gone withhim,” I exclaimed.

“We were going; but Miralda was prevented.”

[249]“How prevented?”

“Dr. Barosa and Inez arrived when all was ready,and after what they said to her, she told me she couldnot go.”

“But they let the visconte go?”

“And I could have gone too—but I could not leavemy dear child.”

I began to get a grip of the situation now.

“And Vasco? Can I see him?”

“He is on duty this morning. He is better. Whatare you going to do?” she asked as I rose.

“To find Miralda.”

“Pray God you may be successful. You will letme know?”

With a promise to do so, I left her. I had verylittle doubt that I should find Miralda with Inez. Shehad been taken away from her home as the resultof that attempt at flight; and Barosa had usedInez for the purpose. The thing must have beenplanned before the failure of the previous night’sscheme was known; and being uncertain of theissue, he was still afraid to break with Inez.

Under other circ*mstances he might have employeddifferent means—getting Miralda into his own hands;but he would shrink from rousing Inez’ jealousy untilhe felt strong enough to set her at defiance.

What the effect upon him would be of the failureof the scheme was of course very difficult to say.But it was not of much consequence unless he hadalready got Miralda away and I should know that assoon as I saw Inez herself.

The lie which had been told about my having carriedMiralda away was intended merely to blind hermother’s eyes. It offered a plausible reason forMiralda’s absence.

As I drove to Inez’ house I told Bryant to waitfor me, but not to remain in the carriage, as I did notwish him to be seen; and as soon as the servant[250]opened the door, I pushed my way in, lest Inez shouldrefuse to see me.

She did make the attempt. In reply to my message,she sent word that she was unable to see methen, but would do so an hour later.

“Then I will wait,” I told the servant; and downI sat in the hall. Inez’ unwillingness to face me confirmedmy opinion that Miralda was in the house;and nothing short of force would have made me leave.

After perhaps a quarter of an hour the servantcame with another message—her mistress wouldreceive me in a few minutes. She was leading the wayupstairs when I stopped her, saying bluntly I preferredto remain where I was until the contesse was quiteready.

I did not intend to give Inez a chance of smugglingMiralda out of the house while I was cooling myheels shut up in a room upstairs. Whether or not anyattempt of the sort had been planned, I do not know;but while I was close to the door and had a full viewof the staircase it was impracticable.

Another delay followed, and then the servant saidInez was waiting for me; and she herself appearedat the top of the stairs, cool, smiling, and apologetic.

“I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Donnington,”she said as she gave me her hand, and ledthe way into an adjoining room; “but your call atthis unusual hour found me quite unprepared to cometo you.”

“It is not a conventional purpose which has broughtme, madame,” I replied as she settled herself gracefullyupon a couch.

“No? Ah, well, I am grateful to any purposewhich leads you to find your way at last to my house,”she said with another smile.

I was in no mood for this kind of thing; so I saidrather bluntly: “My purpose is to see MademoiselleDominguez.”

[251]Her start and look and gesture of extreme surprisewere well acted. “My dear Mr. Donnington! Miralda?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“But——” she paused, and then those strange eyesof hers expressed perplexity and trouble and risingalarm. “I am afraid I—I don’t understand.”

“Yet my words were very simple. I wish to seeMademoiselle Dominguez.”

“I heard that, of course. But is it possible, youbelieve she is here? Do you mean you do not knowwhat has occurred? You find out so many things,you know,” she added with a quick thrust.

“I know that she came here last night. I haveseen her mother this morning; but, as you suggest,I do find out things. You were under the impressionlast night that she did not reach your house; but”——andI paused as I made a shot, speaking very meaningly—“Iknow how she came to the house.”

A single swift up-lift of the deeply fringed lids toldme that the unexpected shot had pierced the armour-plateof her defence; and when she looked up after apause all the assumption of surprise had disappeared.

“You have only yourself to blame, Mr. Donnington,”she said, tone and manner both very earnest.She had as many moods as an actress has costumesand was able to change them much more quickly.

“And that means—what, if you please?”

“I am genuinely sorry for you. I knew from thefirst that your object here was Miralda; and youwill remember that I warned you. You would notheed the warning. You set to work to win backMiralda; and had she been free, you would have succeeded.But she was not free; and when you tookthe mad step of driving Major Sampayo from the cityyou—well, you can understand what was sure tofollow.”

[252]“On the contrary I do not understand, madame.”

“You precipitated matters, of course. Miraldais Major Sampayo’s wife and is now with hisfriends.”

INEZ’ face as she said this was full of excellentlysimulated solicitude for me; but had she beenaware of all I knew about Sampayo’s movements, shewould certainly have chosen some other fairy talewith which to fool me.

“I am afraid some one has been misleading you,”I said drily; “unless, of course, you were present atthe wedding?”

Her own instinct or my manner warned her thatshe had blundered. “I was—not present, Mr. Donnington.”She began the reply quickly, and the slightpause in the sentence came when she suddenly changedher mind; and the last words were spoken in a verydifferent tone.

“When is the marriage said to have occurred?I don’t wish to question you in the dark, and willtell you that I know precisely all Major Sampayo’srecent movements. Let me suggest, therefore, thatit is quite useless to fence with my questions.”

She fixed her eyes on me with a steady searchinglook. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Donnington?”

“I am asking you to let me see Mademoiselle Dominguezat once, madame.”

“I have told you she is with Major Sampayo’sfriends.”

“You are one of those friends. MademoiselleDominguez is here,” I said as positively as if I knew itfor a fact.

[254]For a moment I thought she was going to give in;but her features set and she threw her head back witha toss of defiance. “You must have seen a yacht inthe river for the last two days, the Rampallo. It isMajor Sampayo’s; and Miralda joined him there lastnight.”

“The Rampallo belongs to Captain Gompez, and Ipassed last night on board her.”

She sat bolt upright and stared at me, every muscleand nerve strained and set, her face as white as her laceand the pupils of her weird eyes dilated with suddenfear and wonder. For several seconds she was unableto utter a word, as she realized all that must lie behindmy words.

“You will now, perhaps, deem it prudent not torefuse any longer to bring Mademoiselle Dominguezhere to me,” I said very meaningly.

She lowered her head with a deep sigh and sat thinking,then rose with a little shiver of fear. “I willfetch her,” she murmured and went out of the room.

I breathed a sigh of satisfaction at my victory.It was a telling proof of the strength of my hold overher and all who were leagued with her in this persecutionof Miralda.

I had to wait about a quarter of an hour before shereturned, bringing Miralda, who was pale and wornand nervous.

Inez did not enter the room, but closed the door,leaving us alone, as I took Miralda’s hand.

“Oh, why have you come here, Mr. Donnington?”

“To take you away. I have come straight here fromyour mother and am going to take you back toher.”

“I—I cannot go,” she replied, shaking her head.

“Why not?”

“If I attempt to leave here, I shall be arrested.”

“Is that the tale they have told you to keep youhere?”

[255]“It is true. Do you know what happened lastnight?”

“Yes, indeed; a great deal better than you or anyone else in this house. I urge you to come away at oncewith me; and I will tell you everything that occurred.”

“I—I dare not,” she said, shrinking away from me.

“But I tell you that you have absolutely nothingto fear. You can trust me?”

“Oh yes, yes. You know that; but I—dare notgo.”

It was evident that by some means they had succeededin breaking down her nerve. “Let me urge you tocome at once—just as you are.”

“Do you know that a mad attempt was made tomake the king a prisoner; that it failed and hasbeen discovered; and that all concerned in it arenow in danger of their lives? I had no idea of sucha shameful plot, or I would never have done what Ihave. There is no hope for any of us but flight;and Dr. Barosa is arranging for us to fly secretly thisafternoon.”

“I know much more than that. I know why itfailed. I have every reason to know, because Imyself prevented the attempt.”

“You?” she cried in amazement.

“Yes, I. No one else.”

“And you knew this terrible thing and did notwarn me? And yet you knew I was implicated! Oh,how could you?”

This was a point of view which had not occurredto me. She had good reason to blame me; and forthe moment I was silent.

“You have no answer? If you had told me, do youthink I would not have given a warning of it even at therisk of my life?” and with a despondent sigh shedropped into a chair and sat staring helplessly at thefloor.

“You are forgetting that I myself prevented it.”

[256]“Yes, but my life is now in danger. You do not understandwhat it is you have done. You did what youdeemed best, of course; but you do not understand.They are hunting the city for us all now.”

“These people have merely told you that to frightenyou. No one has been even to your house.”

“Oh, how little you understand. They are waitingbecause it is known that I have left there. The instantI leave here I shall be arrested.”

“Then how could you escape this afternoon?”

“Inez and Dr. Barosa have arranged that. We shallgo in disguise, of course.”

“Who told you that the plot had been discovered?”

“Do you think they do not know that? M.Dagara sent them warning last night, and told them thenames of those who are to be arrested.”

“Everything you tell me only confirms what I sayto you—that these lies have been coined in order tofrighten you. M. Dagara is not in Lisbon. He leftyesterday evening. I gave him money to take himand his wife to Paris. He did not even know that theabduction had been planned; and he left the citybefore he could hear of its failure.”

She shook her head. “I know you think that—butI have the list of names.”

“Will you show it me?”

She took it out of the bosom of her dress and handedit me.

“The trick is obvious,” I said with a smile. “It isnot his handwriting.”

“Inez made a copy for me.”

“But did not show you the original. It is a lie—thewhole thing. Do try to understand it all by thelight of what I tell you. Why, here on the very faceof it is a proof of its falsehood. Your mother’s nameis mentioned.”

“Do you think I have not seen it?” she cried,intensely moved.

[257]“Yes, but I have come straight from her to you. Ifshe had been listed for arrest, should I have foundher at home?”

“She is left at liberty because they expect me toreturn to her, when we should both be arrested.That is why I have not gone home.”

“But surely you can see that that is inconsistent withthe other thing they told you—that you would be takenthe moment you left this house? They have putyour mother’s name on this concocted list in order tofrighten you, and vamped this utterly false explanation.If the police are watching your home, you can safelyleave here; if, on the other hand, they know how to findyou without your going home, why is not your motheralready arrested?”

This made some impression. “I do not know whatto think,” she murmured.

“There is another thing. If you are to run intodanger the instant you leave here, it means that thepolice know where you are. Do you suppose that, insuch a case, they would not have raided this house?”

“Inez is not on the list.”

“Another proof that the whole thing is a fabrication.If the police had such intimate knowledge of the plotthat they knew of your slight connexion with it,would they not know of the leaders?”

She considered a moment. “But you yourselfknew that the visconte and all of us were suspected.You told him.”

“I ascertained afterwards that I was wrong. Dagaratold me.”

“But why should Inez be so false as you suggest?”

“She is instigated by Dr. Barosa.”

“And what is his motive, then?”

It was an awkward question. “I know the motive;but you may doubt the truth. Let me tell you firstwhat has occurred. When I learnt the truth as tothe abduction plot——”

[258]“When did you learn it, and how?”

“I was present on the Rampallo when they all met there,and I overheard the whole matter discussed and settled.I then planned matters so that I should be mistakenfor the king and carried off in his stead. That wasdone last night. I was taken to the Rampallo and wason her all the night. My own yacht followed; and thismorning my people boarded the Rampallo, released meand made prisoners of every man on the yacht.Under the charge of my friend, Mr. Burroughs, theRampallo has been sent off with the men and I cameback to free you.”

“But how could that free me?”

“In one of two ways. Either by forcing Dr. Barosato free you from all connexion with the conspiracy;or by making your pardon a condition of my handingover these men to the authorities with a full statementof what had occurred. Now, except myself and thosein my confidence on the Stella, there is not a manin Lisbon, outside those in the plot, who knows thefacts.”

She listened in rapt attention, sat thinking a fewmoments, and then put out her hand. “Can youforgive me for hesitating to go with you? I havebeen distracted with fear.”

“There is nothing to forgive. All I ask is that youcome with me at once. You would be safer in thehands of the police than here.”

“Tell me why? And you have not explained Dr.Barosa’s object. He has been kindness itself in allthis trouble.”

“He stopped you from leaving with the visconte,”I reminded her.

“There was a reason. My presence was still necessaryto get the information from M. Dagara. ButDr. Barosa and Inez are going to take my mother andmyself away to-day to join the visconte in Paris.”

“They will do nothing of the kind. They are false[259]to you right through. The contesse herself is beingdeceived by Barosa. Sampayo is among the men onthe Rampallo; and I got from him to-day the realtruth why you were compelled to betroth yourselfto him. It is not a pretty story, but you must hear it.He——” I stopped abruptly as Inez entered.

She was smiling, but far less collectedly than usual.“Well, have you persuaded Mr. Donnington thatyou must remain here, Miralda?”

“No; I am going with him, Inez.”

“You must do as you please, of course, but youknow the danger.”

“I am going home.”

“You do not think we can take care of her, Mr. Donnington?What have you told her to cause this changeof plan?”

“I will gladly tell you all I have said if you will accompanyus. Miralda is naturally anxious to reassureher mother as soon as possible.”

“I do not wish to do so, thank you; but we shallhave a minute or two while Miralda gets ready. AndI wish to have a word with you privately, Mr. Donnington,after what you told me.”

“I shall be ready in a minute,” said Miralda witha smile as she went away.

“What are you going to do, Mr. Donnington?”asked Inez. “There can, of course, be only one meaningto your statement—that you were on the Rampallolast night. Are you going to betray us?” She wasgreatly agitated and made little attempt to conceal it.

“Not necessarily. I have no concern with yourpolitics or plots.”

“Yet you have interfered in this?”

“For the sole purpose of making sure of Miralda’sliberty. When she has left the city, and if she is notimplicated any further, and a full explanation is madein writing of the means adopted to force her to dowhat she has done—a statement which must also[260]include the persecution of the rest of her family—theremay be no reason why I should not keep silent.”

“May be?”

“Will be—if you prefer it put more definitely. Butthat statement, signed by both yourself and Dr. Barosa,must be in my hands within an hour.”

“And Major Sampayo?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I care for nothing butMiralda’s welfare in this.”

“You are a generous enemy, Mr. Donnington. Therewill be no difficulty in doing all you ask. May I—mayI thank you?” and she held out her hand. “Ihave not forgotten that you saved my life, and onlyregret that I have been powerless to help you with Miraldauntil you have forced me. I hope you will bear meno malice.”

“It is not my way, I assure you.”

“Will you tell me how you learnt of last night’splot?”

“I would rather you did not ask me.”

“Some one betrayed it to you?”

“No. But you must not press me to give you anymore details.”

“But you cannot have done it alone; and youwill see that for Miralda’s sake we ought to know if anytraitor is amongst us. He might carry information inthe future to others, and then all this would come out.”

“I repeat I do not know of any traitor in your ranks.I cannot say any more.”

“But who knows beside yourself?” she persisted.

“No one on whose silence I cannot rely as surely asyou may rely upon me.”

“But, Mr. Donnington——”

“I can say no more. And now Miralda should beback.”

“I am agitated and had actually forgotten her. Iwill go and see what is keeping her;” and she wentaway.

[261]I was now very impatient to be out of the house.I had gained all I had striven for so desperately; andthere was really no solid reason why I should turn informer.If this abduction scheme was not discoveredby the Government, no suspicion in any future plotwould fall upon Miralda.

Her flight from the city would not be connectedwith any trouble of the sort; and when we reachedParis, it would be my fault if in a few hours she was notmy wife.

The Sampayo complication was ended; and he wouldnever dare to cross my path or hers again. If he did,the means of getting rid of him would still be available,so long as Prelot’s thirst for vengeance lasted.

There was Vasco. I could not see at once what todo in regard to him. But Miralda and I could discusshis future with the viscontesse. Probably the bestthing would be for him to throw up his commission andjoin us. He had been a fool and must pay for hisfolly.

There was also Barosa. If Sampayo had spoken thetruth about his love for Miralda, he would be madwith Inez for letting her go. It was all for the best,therefore, that he was not in the house. I might havefound much more difficulty in getting Miralda away.

Yet he could not have prevented me. The weaponI held was too strong. Not only his liberty and evenhis life were in my hands, but those of Inez and of everyone associated with him in the plot. My silence wasworth infinitely more than the price I asked. At thesame time I was more than glad that I had had to dealwith Inez instead of him.

While I was occupied in these thoughts severalminutes passed, and my impatience at Miralda’s delayin returning mounted fast and I began to grow uneasy.She had promised to be back almost at once; andhad now been absent more than a quarter of ashour.

[262]I recalled the former suspicion which had led to myremaining in the hall, and reflected that it might bebest to go down there again.

Then the door opened and with a sigh of relief Iturned to meet her.

But instead of Miralda, it was Dr. Barosa whoentered.

BAROSA was carrying a sheet or two of writingpaper, and in the glance I caught of his profileas he shut the door carefully behind him, I noticedthat his hard strong features were paler than usual.His set determined expression and manner were thoseof a man who knows he is face to face with a gravecrisis.

“You are surprised to see me, Mr. Donnington,”he said as he turned to me; and his voice, deep andvibrating, confirmed my diagnosis.

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me explain. The Contesse Inglesia has toldme what has passed between you and that you desireto have a written statement from me concerningMademoiselle Dominguez and her relations; and Ithought it could be more conveniently drawn up atonce.”

“I am waiting for her to leave the house withme.”

“I am aware of that. She will no doubt be here ina moment and can perhaps assist us in writing this.Will you tell me what you wish written?”

“I have told the contesse; and you are quite ableto do all I need,” I answered shortly.

“You will understand how profoundly I myselfam concerned by all this. My liberty, my life, andwhat is far more to me than my life, are at stake. Youhave ascertained all our plans, and I feel it imperative[264]to ask what use you intend to make of anything youcompel me to write.”

“It will never be used at all unless it should becomenecessary in order to explain Mademoiselle Dominguez’connexion with your plot.”

“Become necessary?” he repeated. “What doesthat mean?”

“If the plot should be discovered and she shouldbe in any danger.”

“But it has been discovered already. It has failed.You discovered it because of the facts which had cometo your knowledge as the result of the Rua Cataniaaffair.”

“I do not intend to discuss the matter with you,Dr. Barosa. You can do as you please about writingwhat I require.”

“And if I refuse?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “You must infer whatyou will.”

“I will put it on another ground. I accepted unconditionallyyour pledge of secrecy and was instrumentalin saving you subsequently from very seriousconsequences at the hands of those who questionedyour good faith. As a return for that service I askyou to tell me exactly what you know.”

“The service of which you speak was followed byyour secret visit to my rooms—with Henriques; andMajor Sampayo told me this morning the object ofthat visit,” I said very drily. “Sampayo was veryfrank about you.”

“What did he say?” he asked, quite unruffled bythis thrust.

“You can ask him on his return. And now, I amgoing.”

He had remained close to the door and he turnedand locked it and put the key in his pocket.

“Our interview cannot end in this abrupt way, Mr.Donnington. The cause I have at heart may be ruined[265]by you. You have told Contesse Inglesia that youwere on the Rampallo the night before last, and I mustknow what you overheard and what use you intendto make of that information.”

“Open that door or give me the key,” I said sternly.

“I shall do neither. I am armed, as probably youare; and if you wish to force a struggle you must doso.”

Like a fool, I had come without a revolver; but Iclapped my hand to my pocket as if I had one there;and then paused. “I don’t want your blood on myhead,” I exclaimed.

But he was not deceived. “Ah, I perceive youhave not thought that precaution necessary,” he saidquietly. “Well, I mean you no harm, but we musttalk this thing out and then I pledge you my word toopen the door. Will you answer my questions?”

I was, in a mess, and if I was to get out, it would notbe by force; unless I could succeed in catching himoff his guard. So I threw myself into a chair andlaughed. “You are right. I am not armed. Butthe weapon I have is stronger than a revolver. I hadmy suspicions roused about the Rampallo, and I goton board her in time to hear all your discussion onthe news which M. Dagara sent you.”

“Ah, as a spy!” he sneered.

“Yes; as a spy, if you like. As a result, CaptainGompez and his companions carried me off insteadof the king; and this morning my men from theStella came aboard and I returned here.”

“Where are my friends now?”

“On the Rampallo in charge of my people.”

“Why did you interfere? What could it matterto you?”

“You know perfectly well. Sampayo told you, aftermy interview with him three days ago. He beggedyou to cut the net in which you had involved MademoiselleDominguez. He told me this morning what[266]I had only suspected before and what the ContesseInglesia does not even suspect—your real motive.”

“He has lied to you of course.”

“Lies or truth, it doesn’t alter the present situation.Even if you draw your revolver and put one of itsbullets in my head you won’t help matters. I havetaken that precaution, you may be perfectly certain.”

“You mean to betray us all to the Government?”he asked after a pause, during which he drew his handslowly from his pocket.

“I tell you what I have already told the contesse.My object is entirely personal. You can fight outyour battle with your Government in your own way;but I mean to gain my end. When once that is gained,I shan’t be more minutes in Lisbon than I can help.”

Again he paused. He realized no doubt that hehad to choose between giving up Miralda or sacrificinghis cause and all concerned in it. A dilemma searchingenough to make him thoughtful.

“You will give me your pledge to keep absolutelysilent?” he asked at length.

“It is for me to impose conditions, not for you.”

“How do I know that all has occurred as you tellme?”

“You can please yourself. I have a paper signedby Sampayo and Gompez and all the rest of them.”

“Show it me.”

“Certainly.”

This might offer me the chance I sought. I tookit out and held it toward him, intending to close withhim the instant he came near enough. But he wastoo wary. “Throw it to me,” he said.

“You can read it from there,” I replied, and held itup so that he could do so.

“And where is the Rampallo now?”

I smiled and shook my head. “I have been veryfrank as to what has occurred; but what is going tooccur is my own business.”

[267]“You say these men have let you make themprisoners?”

“They say so themselves here.”

“And they are absolutely in your power to deliverthem up to the Government when you please?”

“Absolutely. And they will be given up and afull statement of the facts made, unless I determineotherwise.”

That hit him as hard as I intended.

“When?” he rapped out.

“That also I must leave you guessing. If you areunder the belief that by keeping me here or doing meany sort of mischief you will prevent all this gettingout, you are merely deluding yourself.”

He paused once more and then tossed up his hands.“You have left me no option,” he said with a sigh.“What do you wish me to write?”

“That Mademoiselle Dominguez and her brotherwere forced into this affair by you and that she wasnever aware of the nature of the communications shereceived from Dagara.”

“I will write it,” he said at once. “Here is thekey of the door;” and he threw the key to me as hecrossed to a table and sat down to write.

I drew a breath of relief. I had won more easily thanI had anticipated. Whatever his intentions had beenat the outset of the interview, he had apparentlyabandoned them on learning that to do anything tome would not avert discovery or save his companions.

He found some difficulty in wording the paper andtore up a couple of sheets with an exclamation ofimpatience. Several minutes were spent in thisway.

When he had finished the writing he handed it tome. “Will that do?”

I read it carefully. It was almost in the words Ihad used, and I folded it up and put it in my pocket,well satisfied that, should any emergency arise requiring[268]its use, it would prove a sufficient confirmation ofthe story I had to tell.

“I am satisfied,” I said.

“You will leave Lisbon at once, Mr. Donnington,and will keep absolutely silent as to all that hasoccurred?”

“Yes, unless circ*mstances arise in which I am compelledto use this document on Mademoiselle Dominguez’behalf.”

“I quite understand that, and can accept yourword absolutely,” he replied. As I went toward thedoor, he added: “You will pardon the means Iadopted to secure this interview, and will understandhow vital it was that I should know the position precisely?”

“So long as you recognize it, that’s enough forme.”

“Oh, wait one moment,” he cried, as I put the keyin the lock. “We have forgotten one very importantpoint. I have been intensely disturbed by all this,as you will have seen; and that is the cause of myoversight. You will arrange for my friends to be setat liberty at once?”

“Certainly; as soon as practicable.”

“To-day, I mean?”

“That is not possible. The Rampallo is out atsea. I will send the Stella after her; but it will beat least two days before the two yachts can be back inport.”

His face clouded. “That is very serious. Theseofficers are absent from their regiment without leaveand exceedingly awkward questions may be asked.It may mean ruin for them.”

“I presume they knew the risk they were running.”

“Had they succeeded there would have been norisk of course. On the contrary, they would havehad their reward. Had the cause of their failurebeen other than it was, they would have been able to[269]return to duty at once; but as it is——” he broke offand paced the room in great perturbation. “Couldyou have them put on shore somewhere along the coastso as to save time?”

“No. The Rampallo has steamed straight out intothe Atlantic.”

He tossed up his hands with an exclamation ofdespair. “I beg you to remain a minute while weconsider this. I can think of but one way. It maybe two days, you say?”

“Possibly less,” I replied. “We parted companythis morning about seven o’clock. The Rampallomakes about eight or nine knots under easy steamand was about forty miles out. The Stella coverstwo knots to her one; and if we assume that theRampallo has nine hours start, and allow for the timenecessary to pick her up, the Stella should reach herin about twelve hours. The Rampallo would be abouttwenty-four hours on the homeward run and shouldmake the river the day after to-morrow in the earlymorning.”

“If they returned in your yacht they would be heresooner.”

“But the Stella will not return here.”

“Could you not let her do so? The matter is veryserious indeed.”

“No. I shall send orders that my men are to returnto the Stella. Those who took the Rampallo to seamust bring her back.”

“You will not be surprised if I press you to let themreturn in your yacht. I do press it, very earnestlyindeed.”

“I can’t do it, Dr. Barosa.”

“Well, then, I must fall back on my first thought.The Rampallo must be wrecked, and Gompez and therest take to the boat. That would give a plausiblereason for their absence.”

I smiled. It was certainly ingenious. “The weather[270]has been rather against anything of that sort,” Ireminded him.

“That is not serious. As I gather it, you will sendout an order at once to your boat to go after the Rampalloand just take off the men you have on her. Willyou let me send a letter by—your captain will it be?”

“Captain Bolton.”

“Well, will you let me send a letter by him to Gompez?”

“Yes, if you give it me at once.”

He began to write it at once and, as before, founddifficulty in framing it, and tore up several sheets.“I can trust your captain to deliver it unopened?”he asked.

“Of course you can. But I must ask you to get itdone,” I said impatiently.

He made a fresh start; wrote a dozen lines or so,and again tore up the sheet, this time with a mutteredoath of vexation.

“I am sorry to try your patience so, Mr. Donnington;but I have been so disturbed that I am scarcelymaster of my thoughts. Will you let me send thisto your boat later on? Or will you write your instructionsto your captain and let me send them bothtogether?”

“Yes, that will do as well,” I said.

He got up from the table and made way for me. Ibegan a note to the skipper telling him to hunt upthe Rampallo and take off Burroughs and the men;and was proceeding to add that he should then steamto Plymouth, when it occurred to me that I mightpossibly persuade Miralda and her mother to leaveon the Stella at once.

I paused and by chance glanced in a mirror justopposite me, in which I saw Barosa. He was watchingme with a look of cunning, gloating triumph that in aninstant my suspicions awoke. He was fooling me.All his show of concern for his companions, his inability[271]to master his thoughts, his suggestion aboutwrecking the Rampallo and all the rest of it, weretricks, nothing more, to fool me to put this order intohis hands so that he might get his friends at liberty.

Careful not to let him know that I had seen him, Iresumed the writing. But after adding a couple oflines I scribbled the word “Cancelled” in big sprawlingletters right across the paper, rose with a laugh andtore it into minute fragments. “I’m like you, Dr.Barosa, I cannot write. I’ll see my skipper and tellhim personally; and you can send your letter to himlater. I’ll tell him to wait for it.”

“That will answer the same purpose, of course,”he said, not quite successful in hiding his chagrin.“I will send it to the yacht in less than an hour.”

“Will you see that Mademoiselle Dominguez comesto me?” I said, and unlocked the door.

As I threw open the door he caught me by the arm.“Wait a moment, there is another——”

The sentence was not finished. I turned at his voiceand a cloth was thrown over my head, I was seizedbefore I had a chance to resist, my arms were pinionedand a gag thrust into my mouth; and I was carrieddown the stairs and flung on the floor of a room thedoor of which was locked and bolted.

I WAS not left alone very long, but it was quiteenough for me to curse my own folly for havingallowed myself to be trapped in this way. I oughtnever to have entered the house at all without takingample precautions. I could have brought half adozen of the Stella’s men with me. That was thefirst stupid blunder; but even in the house itself, Ihad acted like an idiot.

I could see the whole business plainly enoughnow. Everything had been done to secure delay.The instant I had arrived Inez had sent for Barosa,and her talk to me had been merely intended to createdelay until he arrived. Then in order that the twomight consult together, Miralda had been broughtto me.

They had filled her with the fear of arrest, calculatingthat she would hesitate long enough to servetheir purpose; but of course they had never intendedto allow her to leave the house. Then as their preparationswere not complete, Barosa had come to meto cause more delay.

He had first detained me with a threat in orderto gain more time; and as soon as the trap for mewas ready, he had affected to submit to defeat. Thiswas to learn precisely how matters were on the Rampallo,and the steps necessary to secure the freedomof his companions.

He had gulled me so completely that I had been[273]within an ace of giving him the authority to theskipper, which would have sent the Stella racing offto bring the men back to the city, while I was kept aprisoner.

Fortunately I had pulled up in time to checkmatethat move, and thus was still so far master of theposition.

What would be Barosa’s next step? What did hemean to do with me? It would not do him much goodto keep me a prisoner. Nor, so far as his conspiracywas concerned, would he gain anything even byknocking me on the head or putting a bullet in it.

I had rubbed the fact in well that, if anythinghappened to me, there were others who would givethe information which would blow his plans into theair and send him flying for his life. There was acertain amount of grim satisfaction that I was worthmore to him alive than dead; and in my presentplight any consolation at all was welcome.

There was another source of consolation, too.Bryant knew where I was, and when I did not returnto him he would do something. He was a sharpfellow, and quite shrewd enough to make mattersunpleasant for my gaolers. Fortunately, I had toldhim that I was coming to the house in search ofMiralda; and as he knew about Barosa and theattempt the latter and Henriques had made, he wouldsoon scent danger.

He would be in a desperate fix, however, what todo and when to do it; urged, on the one hand, toimmediate action by his alarm for me, but restrainedon the other by fear of acting too soon and so interferingwith my plans. But I might safely reckonthat he would not let many hours pass without takingsome vigorous measures on my behalf. In thatcase I might still escape without any more serioustrouble than those hours of discomfort.

Barosa was ignorant of the fact that Bryant knew[274]of my presence in the house, and thus would nothave the very strong incentive to hurry matterswhich that knowledge would have given him. Ifmy guess was right—that his object was to forceme to send an order to Captain Bolton to go after theRampallo and set the prisoners at liberty—he wouldbe chary of doing me any injury which would preventmy sending for them.

I had reached that point in my speculations whenthe door was unbolted, and two or three personsentered. They carefully examined the cords on myarms, and then hauled me to my feet, and half led,half carried me up several flights of stairs to a roomwhere the gag and cloth over my head were taken off.

I found myself in a small room, the one window ofwhich was barred. A pallet bed stood in one cornerwith a mattress, but without sheets or blankets, andby the window a chair and a small table with writingmaterials on it.

I lay down on the bed, intensely glad to be able tobreathe freely once more, but both sick and dizzyfrom the pressure of the gag. I recognized the menwho had brought me upstairs. I had seen them onthe night of the “test,” and I judged that they hadbeen intentionally selected by Barosa in order thatI might see I was in the hands of men who wouldhave scant mercy for a traitor.

He meant to play on my fears, and the writingmaterials ready to hand showed me I had guessedhis purpose. I was to be forced to write the necessaryinstructions to the skipper.

Not a word was spoken by the men. As soon asthey had finished with me they went outside, leavingthe door open and remained close to it.

Some few minutes passed, and then Barosa cameinto the room and closed the door.

“Now, Mr. Donnington, you must understandwhat we require you to do,” he said very peremptorily.[275]“You have chosen to interfere in our plans, and yourinterference has brought you to this pass. You areabsolutely in our power; and I tell you at once andfrankly, that your life will depend upon your decision.You will write the instructions to Captain Bolton togo after the Rampallo, and take our friends to Oportowith all speed. As soon as they are safe, you shallbe set at liberty. Not here in Lisbon; but you willgo on board a steamer which will take you straightback to England, and you will have to give yourword of honour not to speak a word of anything youknow until you reach your country. You will alsoorder your captain to take your yacht straight toEngland the moment that our friends are landed.”

“I shall do nothing of the sort, Dr. Barosa.”

“I think you will change your mind. The penaltyof refusal will be—death,” he replied, as sternly andimpressively as he could speak.

“Very well. I refuse absolutely,” I said, in quiteas firm a tone as his. As a matter of fact, I did notbelieve in his threat. His object was to get his friendsat liberty with the least trouble and in the quickesttime, and he was bluffing me.

But if it was only bluff, he made it very realistic.“I shall give you five minutes in which to do whatI require, and at the end of that time if you persistin your refusal you shall die. That I declare solemnlyon my honour.”

With that he called in a couple of men and orderedthem to unfasten my right hand and bind my left armto my side, and as soon as they had done so, he sentthem out again.

“I will tell you what you do not seem to know.The attempt last night on the king has becomeknown, many arrests have been made, and we areall in danger of the same fate. At present the menwho have brought you up here do not know the partyou have played in betraying them; but when they[276]learn it you know enough of them to judge how theywill feel towards you, and what they will be eagerto do in revenge. If on my return in five minutesfrom now those instructions are not written, I shalltell them everything.”

With that he went out, leaving me extremely perplexedand profoundly uncomfortable. Every oneknows the trying effect of suspense on one’s nerves;and he had no doubt carefully calculated how it wouldact upon mine.

Did he mean to make his threat good, or was ita blank cartridge? I did not believe that the attemptedabduction had been discovered, and thatstatement of his threw doubt on everything else.Moreover, he had told and acted lie after lie in theformer interview, and had done so cleverly enoughto hoodwink me completely.

He had declared on his honour that he was inearnest now, and his manner had been tremendouslyearnest. But a man who could lie as he had wouldprobably not hold his word of honour much morehighly than his word without such a pledge. So Iput that aside as a mere touch of play-acting.

As I thought it all over, it seemed to me that hehad overplayed his part. If he had meant to shootme, that reference to his associates founded, as Ibelieved it to be, on a lie about the plot having beendiscovered, was an unnecessary exaggeration of mydanger, intended to appeal to my fears.

Yet, if I were wrong, my shrift was to be a veryshort one. To form a judgment on a man’s probablemotives, when the penalty of a mistake means death,is a very ugly task, and I seemed to have scarcelybegun to think when he came back.

I was still sitting on the bed and a glance at thepaper showed him it was blank.

“You persist in refusing, then?”

“I haven’t had time to decide.”

[277]“I won’t give you any longer,” he said, very sternly.

“There’s one point you must clear up. AboutMademoiselle Dominguez,” I said firmly.

“I will answer you with your own words thismorning. It is for me, not you, to impose conditions.But her safety will be secured.”

“Then you can have my decision. As soon as sheand I are across the frontier, you can have the letteryou want.”

“You mean you will not write it otherwise? Iwarn you.”

“I mean I will not write it otherwise,” I replied;“I’ll see you hanged first. Do what you will.”

He called in the three men who were waiting atthe door, and in a very few words told them the partI had taken on the previous night, and that I intendedto betray everything I knew to the authorities.

Before he had half finished there was no questionabout their verdict. I read it in faces dark andfierce as a cyclone cloud; in the threatening looksfrom eyes ablaze with wrath; in the execrationshissed and growled between teeth clenched fast inhate, and in the gleam of the half-drawn weaponsas the strenuous fingers clutched at them instinctively.

White-hot with passion they were, and possessedwith but one common motive and resolve—to defendthemselves by exacting the uttermost penalty for mytreachery. Jury and judges and executioners inone, Barosa knew how to play upon their feelings,and I saw that I was condemned and sentencedalmost as soon as the first words had left his lips.

They were some of those who had been suspiciousof me when the “test” of my good faith had beenmade, one of them being the young fellow who onthat night had endeavoured to draw a statementfrom me by pretending that he had been arrested andhad turned informer. He was the most vindictiveof them all now; and while Barosa was still speaking,[278]he broke in with a loud fierce oath, and, carried awayby his rage, he drew his revolver and fired point-blankat my head.

Barosa saw him and struck up his arm. “Marco!”he thundered. “Are you the sole judge?”

“The dog shall die,” he growled, in a mutteredsnarl of hate; and the other two scowlingly agreedwith fierce and savage oaths.

Barosa turned on them, his eyes snapping withrage. “Do you follow your own lead or mine?”

“He shall die,” said Marco sullenly, and was raisinghis revolver again when Barosa snatched it fromhim and flung it to the ground.

All three quailed before his fierce look and masterfulassertion of his leadership; and Marco fell back acouple of paces, his gaze at me more vengeful andbitter than before, as if I had been the cause of hishumiliation.

I could understand Barosa’s action. With menof this class among his followers his rule must beabsolute and inflexible. Independent action, evenwhen amounting to no more than an anticipation ofhis orders, could only be fraught with danger in sucha cause as his; and for his own sake and that of theend he had in view, he was bound to exact literaland implicit obedience.

For a few seconds there was dead silence.

“Well, is it my lead or yours?” he asked them.

There was no longer sign or sound of disobedience.

“Pick up your weapon, Marco.”

The young fellow obeyed and put it back in hispocket.

“Now your decision?” he asked.

“Death,” all three exclaimed together.

“Bind his free hand,” he ordered next.

But I was not going to submit tamely. I sprangto my feet and seized the chair. If I was to die itshould be in hot blood, not like a sheep.

[279]“Resistance is useless, Mr. Donnington. Youmust see that.”

My reply was not in words. I swung the chairup—it was a stout heavy wooden one—and struckat him with all my force. He jumped back andescaped most of the blow, but one of the legs struckhim on the side of the head; and then a very hotfive minutes followed. I laid the young fellow,Marco, senseless, and gave the other two somethingto remember me by before the chair was torn out ofmy grip, and I was seized and my right arm boundto my side and my legs lashed together.

Barosa had kept carefully out of the fight, butas soon as I was helpless he saw that the cords weretied very securely.

“Stand him against the wall there,” he said, indicatinga spot at the foot of the bed.

They placed me as directed and then drew back.

He stooped over Marco, who was only stunned forthe moment, drew the revolver from his pocket andhanded it to one of the men. “You have yours,”he said to the other.

The fellow drew it out with a swift under glance atme, full of sinister thirst for revenge and gloatingsatisfaction.

Then Barosa looked across at me. “We are allagreed that this is our only course, Mr. Donnington.”

I met his look firmly. “You can murder me ifyou will, but it will not help you. You know that,”I replied.

“Will you write what I require?”

“No.”

“Now,” he said sharply to the others.

They looked to see that the revolvers were loaded,glanced at each other and raised them slowly, pointingthem at my head and waiting for the word to fire.

“I give you one last chance, Mr. Donnington,”said Barosa.

WHETHER I was really so near death as itappeared when the two pistols were levelledclose to my head and the men were waiting for theword to fire, or whether it was no more than a well-playedand realistically-staged bluff to frighten meinto writing the instructions to Captain Bolton, Ihave never been able to decide. I think now, it wasonly pretence from beginning to end; but I believedit was grim earnest then, and that when I answeredBarosa’s question with another refusal, I was signingmy own death-warrant.

But in the pause before he gave the order to firethere was a sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs,and Inez rushed into the room. With a cry of horrorshe dashed between me and the levelled weapons.

“What does this mean?” she asked Barosa.

“You can see for yourself,” was the reply.

“You shall not do this in my house. Lower yourpistols, you,” she cried to the men.

They looked to Barosa, who hesitated a second,and then signed to them to leave the room.

At that moment the strain told on me. I turneddizzy and weak, and sat, or rather slid, down on tothe foot of the bed, and lolled helplessly against thewall.

An angry altercation followed between Inez andBarosa, but I paid no attention to it. I could not;and some minutes passed before I was able to pullmy wits together sufficiently to hear what passed.

[281]Barosa was about to leave the room. “The responsibilityis yours, not mine,” he was saying. “Itell you that while that man is alive, not one of us issafe. You know how the police are hunting for us.They will come here to a certainty, and then——”and he threw up his hands angrily and went out.

Inez sat down and leaned her head on her hand inthought, and presently turned and looked at me,with a deep despairing sigh.

The interval gave me time to think. It was beginningto dawn upon me that the whole thing wasplay-acting, and that Inez herself had had her cue toenter for her part in it.

“Mr. Donnington?” she began at length.

I turned very slowly and looked at her. For thepresent it was evidently my best course to lead herto think that I had no suspicion of the unreality ofthe proceedings.

“You are ill.”

I gave a feeble smile and wagged my head slowly.

“Can you listen to me?”

“Yes. I—I thank you,” I said, in a half-indistinctmumble, and with a sigh as heavy as hers.

“It is horrible,” she replied with a shudder. “Butthey shall not do you any harm. If I could get youout of the house I would. Oh, why, why have youdone all this?”

“I owe you my life,” I said, inconsequently.

“If I can save you,” she cried. After a pauseshe jumped up and began to pace the floor excitedly.“You are mad to set Barosa at defiance. You mustsee the uselessness, the folly of it, the utter madness.The whole city is up in anger against us. We arein hourly danger of discovery, even here in this house.There is nothing left for any of us but flight; andyou choose such a moment to drive him to extremes;”and she continued in this half-distracted manner, asif speaking partly to me and partly to herself, and[282]giving me a very vivid picture of their desperatesituation.

But it did not agree with what Barosa had said.He had declared that if I gave the order for the officerson the Rampallo to be set at liberty, I was to be setfree on their arrival. That meant a delay of nearlytwo days, and was therefore absolutely inconsistentwith Inez’ statement that they were in hourly dangerof the police raiding the house.

However, her long excited tirade gave me time tothink things out; and when at last she ended with anappeal to me to write what Barosa required, I haddecided how to reply.

“You ask me to have these men set at liberty,contesse; but if I were to do so, what object wouldbe gained, as everything has been discovered?”

“They are our friends and we must save them.Their ruin will not help you.”

“Miralda is my friend, and I must save her.”

“But you will not help her by destroying them.”

“Why is Miralda kept a prisoner here?”

“She is not a prisoner, Mr. Donnington.”

“But she was not allowed to leave the house thismorning.”

“Because after she had seen you we learnt otherfacts about her danger. She is not a prisoner, andshe stayed because it was not safe for her to leavethe house. That is all. You persuaded her to consent,but when I saw her afterwards she realized hermistake in having given you the promise. She willtell you so herself. She is as anxious as I am that youshould do what Dr. Barosa requires.”

This was all part of her parrot-like lesson, of course,but it was no use to tell her that I knew that. So Itried another tack. “Do you know Major Sampayo’shistory?”

“What has that to do with this?” she asked insurprise.

[283]“A great deal, as I will show you. Do you knowit?”

“No, except that——”

“Anything about his South African career, Imean?” I broke in.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head.

“Then I’ll tell you.” And I told her enough tolet her understand why he went in such fear of me.“That is the secret of Barosa’s hold over him,” Iadded.

“Why do you tell me this, and at such a time?”she asked suspiciously.

“Three days ago Sampayo offered to take any oathI pleased that he would never marry Miralda; andthis morning on the Rampallo he told me he had allbut gone on his knees to Barosa, to induce him toset Miralda free from all this, in order that I mightbe induced to leave the country.”

She began to understand me now. The catch ofthe breath, the dilating nostrils, the quick movementof the head, and the involuntary gripping of thehands, were signs as easy to read as print.

“Within the last hour or two, here in this room,I offered to write all that he needs if Miralda and Iwere put across the frontier. He refused. I askedmyself—why? I ask you the same question?”

In the pause she sat gnawing her lip; her bosomrose and fell quickly under the strain of her quickenedbreathing; her colour began to wane; her brows weredrawn together in a frown, and the pupils of thosecurious eyes of hers dilated as if her pent-up feelinghad acted upon them like atropine. “Why do youtell me this?” she repeated, her voice down almostto a whisper.

“This morning Sampayo swore to me that hisbetrothal to Miralda was a sham and a pretence,never intended to culminate in marriage, but onlymeant to cover another man’s plans and passion.”

[284]“Why do you tell me this?” she asked, for thethird time.

“Because Manoel Barosa is the man you love.”

She winced as if I had struck her in the face, andfor a few seconds sat speechless and overwrought.Then with a great effort she mastered her emotionand laughed. “It is all false, all ridiculous, alllaughable.”

“Then why will he not let Miralda go?”

“I have told you we are not preventing her.”

“Ah, stop that pretence. If you will not answerthat question to me, answer it to yourself.”

But she had regained her self-command, and concealedall sign of the jealousy I knew I had roused.“She shall come to you herself and tell you thatwhat I say is true,” she said. She went to the door,paused, and then turned. “You have done yourselfan ill turn by this. Until now I have been yourfriend,” she said, clipping her words short in heranger; and with that she went out.

I cared nothing for her anger. I knew that I hadstarted a fire which would soon rage furiously enoughto burn up Barosa’s scheme in regard to Miralda.The question I had told Inez to put to herself wasone to which the roused devil of her jealousy wouldsoon supply the answer; and when it was answered,Barosa would have his hands full in looking afterhimself.

Moreover, I was now all but convinced that thewhole show of force had been nothing more than aningenious and well-acted bluff. Barosa had realizedthat without my help he could not get Gompez andhis companions set at liberty, and it was quiteprobable that he had been to Captain Bolton. I smiledas I thought of the reception he would meet withfrom the old skipper.

As his dramatic show of force and Inez’ appealfollowing her aptly-timed rescue, had both failed,[285]the next move was to send Miralda. But it wasvery long before she came, and the afternoon beganto wane. I watched the fading light with eyes greedyfor the darkness, for I knew that I might then lookfor some results of Bryant’s action.

I was suffering considerable pain now. The cordswhich bound my arms to my sides had been so tightlydrawn that all the blood in my body was congested,and I tossed and turned on the bed in vain efforts tofind relief from the pressure.

All my own worries were forgotten, however, whenMiralda came, and I struggled up into a sitting postureand greeted her with a smile, as she crossed the room.

Her face was very pale and careworn, her mannernervous and hesitating, and her eyes very troubled.She had no smile in answer to mine.

“Inez tells me that you believe I am a prisonerhere, Mr. Donnington. I have come to assure youthat is not so. I did not return to you this morningbecause I found it would be useless for me to attemptto leave.”

She said this nervously in a sort of monotone, andwith the air of one repeating a lesson and afraid offorgetting the lines. The very tone contradictedevery syllable; and as she finished, she whisperedhurriedly in English: “Caution.”

I understood the position instantly and played upto it. “I told you there was no danger. You mighthave trusted me,” I replied aloud in a tone of reproach;and then with a glance toward the doorwhich she had left wide open, I whispered in English:“Listening?”

She nodded quickly, and said in her own tongue:“You did not know. You could not know. Everythingabout last night has been discovered, and thecity is being ransacked to find us.”

“Not a bit of it. I am sure that nothing is yetknown of the failure. This is said to frighten you;”[286]and again I whispered quickly in English: “Are youa prisoner?”

Again she answered with a quick significant nod,as she went on with her lesson. “I have come tobeg of you to do what Dr. Barosa wishes. Inez saysyou are refusing because you think you can help me.But you can help me much better by doing this. Ibeg you with all my heart not to refuse any longer.”

She was now able to speak with a much greaterappearance of sincerity and earnestness; and as shefinished this last appeal she whispered in English:“Don’t do it.”

“You say I can help you better by freeing thesem*n. Prove that to me, or let others prove it. Doyou know that Dr. Barosa has told me that even if Iyield to him I am to be taken from here on board avessel sailing straight for England? How is that tohelp you?” and I laughed incredulously.

Under cover of the sound of my laugh she whispered“Brazil, not England,” and then added, witha well-acted note of concern in her voice: “You areplacing me in danger from some of these desperatemen who believe that I am in league with you tobetray them.”

“But that cannot be so. No one knows that Itold you anything about the position of things on theRampallo,” and I questioned her with my eyes.

“I tell you you will ruin me if you persist in refusing,Mr. Donnington,” and added under her breath:“We were overheard.”

“I can’t believe that. These people are merelyseeking to frighten you. Of course if I thought youwere really in danger the thing would be altogetherdifferent,” and again my eyes questioned her.

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.“How can I prove it to you? I am. I know that.Even Dr. Barosa is alarmed, lest he may not be ableto protect me from their violence.”

[287]“But he has already arranged for your escape andyour mother’s.”

She shook her head again meaningly. “These menhave made that impossible to-day. We were preventedwhen everything was ready.”

Once more the silent question from me, answeredby the significant shake of her head, told me the realtruth beneath her words.

“But what you say only confirms my opinion—thatby doing what is asked I should not help you,”I said.

Her eyes signalled assent, but her lips uttered aquite emotional protest. “Is my safety nothing toyou, then? If I beg and implore you to do what Ihave asked; if I tell you, as I do, that my liberty,and probably my life, depend upon your decision, isthis all nothing to you?”

Her look explained the double meaning of herwords. She believed that not only my safety, buther own, depended upon my doing what she had asked—butasked not in words, but by her looks andwhispered English asides.

“You distress me more than I can say,” I replied,adopting a similar equivocation. “If it were possibleI would tell you precisely how I feel.”

“You appear to think you can set these men atdefiance with impunity, and that they will not harmyou or me so long as you refuse!” A swift interchangeof glances told me that this was actually herbelief. Then she added with passion: “How canyou be so infatuated, so mad, so reckless? You willpay for refusal with your life.” Once more thesignificant gesture of the head denied the truth of herwords.

“What you have said has moved me deeply.Heaven knows, I have no thought in all this but tosave you from harm. I must make you understandthat. I have already told Dr. Barosa that if he will[288]put you and me across the frontier, I will do whathe asks and keep silent about everything. In thatway your safety would be assured. But he refused,believing that he can force me to agree to his terms.He cannot. I have so arranged that even if he tookmy life—as indeed he all but did to-day—he cannottear his companions from my grip, and will have toanswer for my murder in addition to these othercharges. There are two beside myself who knoweverything about last night’s attempt—they helpedme in it—and they will hand over the prisoners Itook. Aye, and more than that. They know of hishatred of me; and should anything happen to methey will not rest until they have hunted him downand avenged me. No; it is useless to plead longer,”I exclaimed, as if she had been going to do so, whilein fact she had listened with mounting interest andpleasure to every word.

“But I must,” she broke in, taking the cue readily.“I beg——”

“I cannot listen to you. I have stated my terms.The moment you are out of the country, or on myyacht and in safety, I will do what is wanted; butuntil then neither entreaties nor threats shall makeme yield.”

She gave me a last bright glance of encouragement,her heart in her eyes, and then burying her face inher hands she cried despairingly: “You do not care,you do not care. You will ruin us all in your madness;”and as if overwhelmed by her emotions, sherushed out of the room.

THE interview with Miralda left me in betterspirits than I had been at any moment sincemy imprisonment. She had confirmed my own viewthat my life was safe so long as I refused to releaseGompez and his companions, and had assured me thatshe herself was in no serious or immediate danger.

But best of all she had given me another proofof her trust. A fresh bond was created between us andthe old one cemented more firmly than ever. Despitethe fact that those who had sent her to induce me toyield were actually listening to every word that passed,she had contrived to let me know the real truth ofthe position.

I could understand the pressure which had beenapplied to force her to come on such an errand. Hermanner when she entered and uttered the first lines ofthe part in which she had been carefully drilled hadrevealed her feelings; and the nervous, quicklywhispered word of warning told me why she hadyielded.

She knew the risk she was running should her actbe discovered, but she had faced it unflinchingly formy sake, resolved to put me on my guard let theconsequences be what they might to her. Barosa andInez had little dreamt that the trick of forcing her totry and mislead me would result in the strengtheningof my resistance! And it was Miralda’s own shrewdnessand care for me which had brought it all about.

[290]The thought was infinitely sweet; and all thediscomfort and pain I was enduring were forgotten inthe delightful contemplation of Miralda’s courageand zeal for me.

The discomfort would soon be over now, moreover.Many hours had passed since Bryant saw me enter thehouse, and I was certain that he was now at workto secure my liberation.

If I had not been blinded in the morning by myalarm for Miralda I should have taken the precautionto tell him what steps to take. But I had not thoughtthere would be any danger in Inez’ house. I oughtto have foreseen that she would send for Barosa, andhave given Bryant definite instructions what to do ifI did not return to him.

What was he likely to do? He would keep a watchon the house of course. He would thus see Barosaarrive, and probably also the men who must have beensent for afterwards. I read the thing in this way.Inez had sent word to him almost as soon as I was inthe house. He had come at once and then hadprobably sent Miralda to me in order to overhearwhat passed between us.

Recognizing the danger, he had then sent for suchof his companions as he could thoroughly trust andhad laid the trap into which I had fallen. But he sawthat unless he could get the men on the Rampallofree, I still held the key to the situation. He hadtried first to trick me with that pretence of submission,and when that had failed, he had fallen back on threats,carrying the threat to the very extreme limit in thehope that I should yield when death appeared theinevitable alternative.

Then, threats having failed, he resorted again tocunning. Inez rushed in and saved my life, and thenMiralda had been sent again.

When Bryant saw first Barosa and then the menarrive, he would be shrewd enough to understand[291]that I was in danger. In an hour or two he would bein a parlous fix what to do. Unwilling to leave thehouse, lest I should be brought out of it, he wouldhave to devise some way of getting it watched; andit was an easy guess that he would solve the difficultyby finding a messenger of some kind to carry word tothe men on the launch to fetch the skipper.

The question they had to settle was whether theywould enter the house themselves or put the policeon the track. The skipper would be for doing it themselves—thatwas his blunt way; but Bryant’s was amuch more cautious nature, and he was far morelikely to make up some yarn and set the police towork.

All this would occupy a lot of time, but I feltcertain that the night would still be young when theywould act.

I lay back on my mattress no longer fretting andchafing at the slow passage of time. I had amplefood for thought. I pieced together these speculativedoings of Bryant in the intervals of giving rein to thefresh hopes and new delights engendered by my interviewwith Miralda. I recalled word by word all shehad said, treasuring her little asides, her significantglances, her changes of tone and manner, as jewelswhose every facet reflected her trust, her courage,and above all her care for me.

I was confident now of success, and it was shewho had given me confidence. As the darknessdeepened I rejoiced. Each minute was bringingnearer our delivery and reunion.

Some long time after she had left me—perhaps anhour or perhaps two hours, I had no means of reckoningthe time, but it had long been quite dark—I heardfootsteps approaching the room; and I guessed thecurtain was to go up for the next scene.

Barosa and Inez entered together. He carrieda lamp, and I could see by its light that the faces[292]of both were very pale. He set the lamp down onthe little table and then bent over me.

“Mr. Donnington!” he said. His voice was lowand slightly husky, either from suppressed passionor anxiety.

I made no reply, and when he repeated my nameand shook me I moaned as if in great pain. Therewas little enough pretence about it indeed, for thetightness of my bonds was causing acute suffering.

I rolled my eyes upon him, uttered another moan,shook my head feebly, and then closed my eyes.

“He is almost unconscious, Manoel,” said Inez.

I read that use of his name to mean much. Shehad been asking herself the question I had suggested—aboutthe real reason for detaining Miralda—andfinding it unanswerable had passed it on to him.

“Mr. Donnington!” he said again angrily.

It was my object to waste time, of course; so I tookno notice except to sigh heavily, open my eyes againand close them instantly as if the effort tried mystrength.

“You are not so bad as all that,” he said, andshook me again very roughly. When this had noeffect, he felt my pulse, and in doing so put a fingerunder the rope which bound my left hand.

“See how swollen the hands are, Manoel,” saidInez, holding the lamp close to me. “It must betorture.”

But Barosa knew better than to be taken in by mymalingering. “He can speak well enough as he is ifhe pleases. Mr. Donnington, we have come to set youat liberty.”

Then why didn’t he do it, was my natural thought.But I went through another little pantomime. Ishowed slightly more strength this time, as if invigoratedby the news, but sank back again exhausted.

“He is only shamming, curse him,” mutteredBarosa.

[293]“These cords are cruelly tight, Manoel. Ease them,and see the effect. I’ll go and fetch some brandy.”

She went away and Barosa began to unfasten theknots. He was very suspicious and went to workcautiously. But he need not have feared. Theinstant the cords were released and the stagnantblood began to course again through the veins, I wasnot only helpless but in positive agony, from myaching head to my throbbing feet.

Inez had been back some time before I could bear tomove and when I strove to sit up in order to takethe spirit she had fetched, I fell back like a log, sick,dizzy and as helpless as a new-born babe. Barosaheld me up while she poured a little brandy betweenmy chattering teeth.

The pain subsided slowly and the brandy stimulatedme, and after a long interval—I made it long enoughto try Barosa’s patience sorely—I struggled to a sittingposture.

“What is this you have told Contesse Inglesia?”he asked.

I passed my hand across my forehead and staredat him vacantly.

“You know well enough what I mean. Repeat itto me.”

“What about?” I muttered.

“About Mademoiselle Dominguez. Some lie MajorSampayo is said to have told you.”

I looked from him to Inez, and met her eyes fixed uponme intently. “Tell me,” I said to her.

“What Major Sampayo said about the reason whyMiralda was betrothed to him.”

I turned slowly to Barosa. “If the contesse has toldyou, why bother me about it?”

“Repeat it,” he said sternly.

I shook my head. “You know already.”

“Repeat it,” he cried again furiously. “And thenadmit you lied.”

[294]“I do not lie,” I answered and turned again toInez. “So you have asked that question?”

“Repeat it, I say,” he thundered. “If youdare.”

“Oh, I dare. Sampayo told me that you had himat your mercy because you found out the facts abouthis South African doings and threatened to exposehim. I had the same knowledge with an additionwhich frightened him even more. He said that you hadforced this betrothal, but that it was only a shamand that you did not mean him to marry Miraldabecause you yourself loved her.”

Out came a storm of oaths and denial, with fierceand passionate threats against Sampayo for havingcoined the lie and against me for having dared torepeat it.

Inez was scarcely less moved; and from whatpassed it was clear that there had been a very warmquarrel between them before they had come up to me.I learnt that she had threatened to sacrifice everythingand go straight to M. Volheno.

It was a long time before I could get a word in, andthen I brought them back to the real point. “Sampayotold me that after my interview with him hebegged you to get rid of me by doing what I wanted—freeingMiralda from all this trouble. But you refusedand tried to get rid of me in another way—by incitingHenriques to murder me.”

“It is a lie, a lie. It is all lies,” he exclaimedfuriously.

“Well then, why have you kept Miralda in the toils?If Sampayo lied, what is the truth?”

That roused Inez again, and another altercationfollowed, fiercer even and more prolonged than thefirst. He had evidently tried to answer the questionwith fifty subtle pretexts, but Inez was jealous andknew too much not to be able to see that there was noreason except the true one.

[295]In their anger they let out other valuable facts.The plot to abduct the king had not been discovered,and Miralda had been prevented from flying on thepretext that no discovery was likely to be made andthat she would be wanted for the next scheme whichmight be hatched. My arrival with the news that Icould reveal the whole conspiracy and meant to do sohad cut even this ground from under Barosa’s feet,and then my repetition to Inez of Sampayo’s storyhad completed his discomfiture.

I was delighted to find that Inez was now as anxiousas I was that Miralda should fly the country; andinstead of making her my enemy, as she had declared,she was resolved that I should take Miralda away.

Barosa was equally determined that I should donothing of the kind, and hence the bitterness of bothand the impasse to which matters were brought.

Another result of the quarrel was that it gave metime to recover my strength, and as that increased,I began to see whether I could not take advantage ofthe position to escape. I was more than a match forBarosa even after my experiences in that room. Itwas probable that he had a revolver on him, and if Icould get that, I could soon put a different complexionon matters.

But he and Inez had crossed to the other end of theroom, she had closed the door lest the sound of theirangry voices should be heard by others in the house;and I could not get to him, however quick my rush,before he would have time to draw his weapon.

In his present frenzy he would shoot me the instanthe drew, and things were going too favourably forme to take that risk.

I waited therefore in the hope that he would returnto my end of the room and give me the chance Isought.

But before I had such a chance, some one knockedhurriedly at the door and Marco rushed in.

[296]“I must speak to you at once,” he said excitedlyto Barosa, and the two men went out together.

Inez was literally convulsed with jealous rage. Herface was white, her features drawn and haggard, herhands fiercely clenched, and she was shaking fromhead to foot. As the two men went out, she watchedBarosa, her strange eyes gleaming like those of atigress watching her prey. And when the door closedbehind them, she crossed to me, her hand pressedtightly to her heart.

“Get Miralda from this house or I will not answer formyself,” she said, her lips shivering and her voice lowand hoarse with passion.

I threw up my hands with a gesture of helplessness.

With fingers that shook so violently that she couldscarcely command them, she tore open the bosom ofher dress, took out a revolver and thrust it into myhands.

“Wait here a few minutes until I return. Sheshall be ready to go,” she whispered and then turnedto the door.

“Inez! Quick. For God’s sake!” cried Barosa;and the next moment I was alone again.

I rose and paced the room to shake off the lingeringeffects of the cramp caused by the cords. My legswere still stiff, but a few turns across the room putme all right.

Presently I opened the door and stood listeningfor Inez’ return. Although I was within a few minutesof complete success, I was in a fever of impatience.

There was no sound anywhere in the house, andit was all dark. I fetched the lamp from my room andwent to the stairhead.

Was it after all nothing but some fresh ruse?

I examined the revolver Inez had given me. It wasloaded.

I was mystified.

I began to descend the stairs, but paused.

[297]If I carried a light I should be an easy mark forany one having a fancy to make a target of my body.

Setting the lamp down I felt my way by the balustradeand crept down in the dark, careful to make as littlenoise as possible and halting every now and again tolisten.

In this way I descended two storeys, and triedin vain to remember how many flights I had beencarried up, that I might know on which floor I stood.

Feeling in my pockets I found my matches and wasabout to strike one when I heard a footstep followed by asmothered exclamation, as if some one had stumbledin the dark. The sound came from some distancebelow.

Instinctively I shrank back against the wall andstood holding my breath and listening intently.

All was as still as a vault.

My eyes had now grown sufficiently accustomed to thedark to enable me to make out that I was on awide landing on to which several rooms opened. Ifelt my way round and listened cautiously at each.Not a sound. Two of the doors were ajar, but eachof the rooms was in darkness.

I hesitated when I reached the stairs again what todo. That stumbling footstep below had been fullof unpleasant suggestion. But it was useless to stopwhere I was, so I continued my descent, morecautiously and slowly than before.

When I reached the next floor I paused again,waiting a long time and straining my ears for someclue to the baffling situation. Not hearing a sound, Iagain made a circuit of the landing, feeling my wayby the wall. There were three doors here, and eachwas ajar, and all three rooms in darkness.

Feeling my way back to the stairs, I stumbledagainst a low pedestal placed at some little distancefrom the wall. There was a large plant on it and inpreventing it from falling, the leaves shook with a[298]rustling noise almost disconcerting in the dead stillnessof the house.

I crouched as still as a statue behind it, listeningand holding my breath again. Then I heard otherrustling with a curiously regular beat or infinitesimalthrobbing. For a long time this puzzled me; untilat length I discovered that the throbbing was that ofmy own heart and the rustling due to the movementof my coat lapel against the stiff edge of my collar.

I crept on then to the stairs and descended, stillusing the same caution. I reached the bottom. Iwas now in the hall. The feel of the marble under myfoot told me this.

I remembered the direction of the front door andturned toward it.

But I had not taken two steps in its direction beforeI was seized, a hand was pressed on my mouth beforeI could utter a sound, and my hands were wrenchedback violently and pinioned behind me.

MY first thought when I was seized so suddenlyin the darkness was that a fresh trap hadbeen laid for me and that I had blundered into it;and that all the fierce wrangling between Inez andBarosa in my presence had been mere pretence, to leadup to her saying what she had about my leaving thehouse with Miralda.

But why all that trouble had been taken when Iwas already in their power and, above and beyond all,why she should have given me a loaded revolver, wasutterly baffling.

I had not more than a minute or two to worry overthat, however, for my captors dragged me in silenceto a room close by, which, like the rest of the house,was in darkness.

“Don’t speak above a whisper,” said one of themfiercely, putting his lips close to my ear.

An electric lamp was flashed in my face and thesudden light set me blinking and winking like an owl.

“Do you know him?” asked a voice out of thedarkness.

A murmur of dissent from the rest followed.

“Where are the rest of you?” was the first questionasked of me.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied after apause.

“Answer my question at once.”

I was at my wits’ end to know what line to take. I[300]had had such dramatic proof of Barosa’s methods oftesting my good faith, that the suspicion flashed acrossme that this was just another of them. He and Inezmight have patched up their quarrel—if it had beenone in reality—and he might have devised this meansof seeing whether I meant to keep my promise of silence,before he allowed Miralda to leave the house with me.

My hesitation appeared to provoke the man whohad put the question. “Answer at once, you dog,”he said. But whether his anger was real or assumed,I could not tell.

“There is some mistake——” I began.

“You’ll find that out if you don’t answer at once,”he broke in.

“I am an Englishman, Ralph Donnington, and havebeen kept a prisoner in this house since this morning.”

“Answer me instantly,” he repeated with an oath.

“I have given you the only answer I can.”

The lamp was directed at my face the whole time—theonly gleam of light in the whole room. And to meeverything was, of course, just one huge blur of utterdarkness.

“You refuse to tell me? You will repent it, I warnyou.”

“I have answered,” I said again.

“You say you were a prisoner?”

“Yes.”

“When did you come to the house?”

“This morning. I came here from my yacht, theStella. She is in the river now.”

“Who made you a prisoner, and why?”

To answer that involved the telling of all I knew.And whether this was sham or reality, it meant dangerto Miralda. “You may be sure I mean to find thatout,” I said, fencing.

A pause followed and I heard some whispering.Then the man’s former question was repeated. “Yousay you were a prisoner?”

[301]“Yes.”

“A prisoner at liberty to roam about the housearmed with a loaded revolver? Is that what youmean?”

“Some little time ago a woman came to me—I waslocked in a room at the top of the house—and gaveme the revolver and told me I could leave.”

This was the truth; but it sounded like a preposterouslie—as the truth sometimes will.

“And that was just at the moment when you wereall hurry-scurrying for your lives on our arrival. Ofcourse you don’t know who the woman was, any morethan why you came sneaking down the stairs in thepitch darkness with her revolver ready to put a bulletinto any one who prevented your escape.”

“What I tell you is absolutely true. I was tryingto get away, of course, and came down in the darkfearing some trick on the part of those who had imprisonedme.”

“You know whose house this is?”

“Oh, yes. The Contesse Inglesia’s.”

“Oh come, you know something,” he sneered. “Isuppose she is a friend of yours—just in a social way?”

“I was presented to her at the house of the Marquisde Pinsara just after my arrival in Lisbon. I cameto Lisbon on a mission of considerable importance inwhich the Marquis and others of his friends are greatlyinterested.”

“Do you include His Majesty the King in yourcircle of friends?”

I disregarded the sneer and replied gravely, “No,but I can give you a list of those who are interestedin my affairs;” and beginning with M. Volheno, Irattled off a number of names. It was no good havingwell-placed acquaintances without making some useof them.

“You are an impudent scoundrel,” was the hotreply. “Why did you come to this house to-day?”

[302]“On matters closely connected with my object herein Lisbon.” This was, of course, my real object—Miralda—butit was not necessary to split hairs ortrouble with too much explanation.

“Whom have you seen here?”

“The Contesse Inglesia and the woman who gaveme the revolver.”

“No one else?”

“I should not identify any one else.” This wasvery close to a direct lie; and as I had no intentionof either telling what I knew or of committing myselfto a direct denial, until I was certain about the natureof the whole proceedings, I added: “I have saidthat I am an Englishman. I have given you myname and have told you I am a friend of M. Volheno,amongst others. You do not believe what I say, andI claim my right as a British subject to communicatewith my country’s representatives here in the capital.Let me send to them or yourselves send to M. Volheno.I shall not answer any more questions.”

“Tell me at once where to find the rest of yourcompanions,” he said very sternly.

“I know no more than yourself. I have no otheranswer to give.” I spoke very firmly and half expectedthat my experience of the former test would berepeated and that the men would be satisfied.

But nothing of the kind followed. After a pausethe light was suddenly put out, a whispered commandwas given, and I was hurried out of the room and thenout of the house, dragged with no little violence intoa carriage and driven away.

This might still be part of a drastic test, of course;so I held my tongue and let them take me where theywould. As I left the house I glanced about me in thehope of catching sight of Bryant; and was considerablytroubled when I could not see him.

But I was soon to learn that it was no mere test.The carriage pulled up before a gloomy building and I[303]was half led, half dragged inside, where I was confrontedby a number of men in police uniform. I was searchedand everything taken from me; my name was entered;and without more ado I was led away to be thrust intoan unmistakable prison cell with other equally unmistakableprisoners.

The experiences of that night live as an ineffaceablememory—worse than any nightmare horrors; worsethan one’s worst imaginings of any nether world.

The cell was a large one in which perhaps twentyor thirty could have been confined without any unduecrowding. There were more than that number alreadythere when I was thrust inside; and many others werebrought in afterwards, men and women indiscriminately,until we must have numbered over sixty altogether.

Had all been approximately clean or approximatelysober, the air would still have been too foul tobreathe and we should have been too crowded tomove without shouldering one another. By theexercise of strict discipline and mutual arrangementand forbearance, it would have been possible, bytaking turns, for some to have slept while therest huddled together.

But there was neither cleanliness nor discipline.Most of the men and some of the women were of thescum of the gutter; filthy beyond description andevil-smelling to the point of nausea—the incarnationof all that is offensive and abominable in humanity.And to add to the horror, many of the men were indifferent stages of drunkenness—hilarious, quarrelsome,brutal or obscene, according as the drink developedtheir natural or unnatural temperaments. But allwere noisy and equally loathsome.

Some dozen of the men and most of the women—ofwhom there were about fifteen—were of a betterclass. But two or three of the women were too hystericalfrom fear to be capable of anything approaching[304]self-command. Their cries and moans of anguishwere heartrending; and their occasional piercingscreams and vehement outbursts of sobbing, not onlyadded to the general din and racket, but provokedthe anger of the drunkards and drew from them aflood of obscenity and abuse.

Wherever a dozen women are brought together introuble, however, you may confidently look for atleast one “ministering angel” among them. Therewere two in that awful den that night. In appearancethey afforded the extremes of contrast. One was atall buxom woman in the forties with a hard forbidding-lookingface, but with a heart as stout as her big bodyand courage as strong as her bared brawny arms.The other was a pale frail slip of a girl who looked asif a breath of wind would have knocked her down;and it was an act of hers which brought matters to acrisis.

On my entrance two or three fights were in progress,and as I had no wish except to avoid trouble, if possible,I pushed my way to a corner near one of the smallbarred windows, and stood leaning against the wall,watching the unruly crowd in dismay at the prospectof a night to be passed in such company and in suchutterly foul surroundings.

Whenever the door was opened and fresh prisonerswere thrust in, their entrance was hailed by raucousshouts of welcome or hoarse oaths and jeers of angeraccording to the feelings which the newcomers’ looksinspired. Those who were known favourably werehailed by their names, while others were receivedwith yells and curses and immediately seized andbuffeted and kicked and mauled, dragged hither andthither like a big bone by a pack of yelping curs, untilbruised, battered and half-dead with fear, they foundrest and obscurity in a corner; or until some newarrival distracted the attention of their persecutors.

I had been watching one of these affairs when I[305]turned to find the girl I have mentioned at my side.Her fragile form and pale face moved my pity, andI made way so that she could stand just under thewindow. She thanked me with a smile, and westood thus for a long time, exchanging an occasionalglance.

Later on, one of the noisiest of the hysterical womendrifted our way and the girl instantly left her placeand began to try and comfort the woman. Theremust have been magnetism in her touch and eyes,for the effect was remarkable. The other’s criesceased and her sobbing subsided, and she soon regaineda measure of composure.

She was a good-looking woman and her face attractedthe attention of a drunken brute of a bully who shoulderedhis way up and with a coarse oath tried to put hisarm round her waist to kiss her. Without a second’sconsideration of her own risk, the girl thrust herselfin his way and pushed him back with all her littlestrength, and stood guarding the woman like a younglioness at bay.

The beast swore viciously, glared at her and raisedhis hand for a blow; then his look changed, his eyesblazed with animal passion and he tried to seize her,swearing he would kiss her instead of the woman.

I shouldered my way to her rescue, but before Icould reach her, the big woman intervened. Shegrabbed the brute from behind and dragged him off,with a voluble torrent of language which, “ministeringangel” as she afterwards proved, had very little ofthe minister and nothing of the angel in it.

The drunken bully, powerful though he was, hadmuch difficulty in shaking her off, and by the timehe had succeeded, I had reached the girl and stood infront of her. Finding a man to deal with and one muchslighter than himself, he elbowed himself clear of thethrong round him and prepared to knock me into thenext world. But I knew how to use my fists and he[306]did not; and as he struck at me I easily parried theblow and gave him an undercut on the jaw whichsent him staggering back, a very much surprisedbully indeed.

A fight being a welcome recreation for the prisoners,we were immediately surrounded by a yelling, oathingcrowd, and a sufficient space was cleared for us to settlematters. It is no credit to batter a half-drunken man,and I would gladly have avoided the thing if it hadbeen possible. But it was not. My antagonist wasregarded as a sort of champion by those who knewhim; and as they were anxious to see me mauled,they hounded him on with shouts and cheers of encouragement.Five minutes finished it; and establisheda reputation for me which proved of infinite valuefor the rest of that terrible night.

His friends led him away to the other end of theplace; and when I turned to go back to my corner, Ifound that the girl and her big companion had takenpossession of it for the benefit of the other women.They had cleared a sufficient space to enable thewomen to lie down; and by some magic of womanhoodhad comforted and soothed them until comparativequiet had been restored.

Nor was that all. Such of the men as were soberand decent had drifted to our end and stood in lineas a guard over the women. A space of very few feetdivided us from the rowdies; and as they still persistedin keeping up a racket, I determined to use the authoritywith which my victory had invested me, to try andstop some of the din.

I picked out three of the strongest men near me, toldthem what I meant to do, and asked their help. Wewere, of course, heavily handicapped in numbers; but wewere sober and capable of concerted action, whereasthe others were mostly drunk and at loggerheads evenwith one another.

Four of us crossed the dividing line and without a[307]word seized four of the noisiest of the crowd, draggedthem from the midst of the throng, shook and cuffedthem soundly, and then ordered them to stop theiryelling and oathing.

They slunk off cowed and beaten; but a numberof the others broke out with volleys of curses andthreats and showed fight. At this, the other menfrom my corner came forward, and the manœuvrewas repeated on a larger scale. This time I took care topunish my man severely; and when we shoved themreeling away and looked for fresh ones, we looked invain.

They all backed away, huddled together like sheepfrightened by the dogs; and for the rest of the nightthere was no recurrence of the row. We went backto our side and resumed guard over the women; halfour number crouched on the ground and the rest of usdid sentry work.

The rowdies across the dividing line gave very littletrouble after that. There were occasional wranglingsamong themselves, as they fought for room to crouchor lie down, or struggled for space to breathe; but theyhad had their lesson and were careful not to provokeanother attack from us.

Many of them were soon fast in drunken sleep, astheir stertorous breathing and loud snoring evidenced.But contrasted with the din and racket in the pasthours, this was comparative peace and silence.

How any one could sleep under such conditionsbaffled me. The reek and noisome stench of the placewere appalling; and although I stood as near as Icould get to one of the windows, I was almost suffocatedand felt sick, stifled, and overpowered.

The women also slept, all but the two who watchedover them and tended them with the care and vigilanceof tender-hearted womanhood. The endurance of theyoung girl was as wonderful as her staunch courageand her magnetic handling of her troubled sisters.[308]She even outlasted the big brawny woman who fell asleepsoon after the dawn broke. The light struggled throughthe windows, and the abject wretchedness and squalorof the scene were infinitely more depressing and horriblein the light than they had seemed in the feeble rays ofthe gas jets.

Only once did she show even a sign of breaking down.That was about two hours after the dawn when shewas near me and I asked her why she was a prisonerand spoke in praise of her conduct.

She told me that she was a political prisoner, andthat her real name was Pia Rosada, but she had beenarrested in a different one. She was a keen revolutionary,goaded into rebellion by the ill-treatment of herrelatives. She was only a suspect; but she knewmuch and looked forward to some kind of torturebeing employed to force her to turn informer. “Theymay do what they will, I shall tell nothing,” she said,her eyes lighting with resolution and dauntless courage—amartyr in the making.

“I am sorry for you,” I murmured.

“I would die a hundred deaths first,” she answered.Then her look changed. Her clear gaze was troubledand she glanced round at the women. “Do you think wehave no cause to revolt? Look at these poor creatures;”and her eyes filled with tears. But she dashed themaway. “We cannot afford the luxury of tears,” shesaid hurriedly, and slipped from me to go to one ofher charges who woke and sat up and began toweep. In a minute she was soothed and comfortedby the touch of those wonderful hands, the glance ofthe magnetic eyes, and the soft whisper of the sweetcalming voice.

My thoughts flew to Miralda, and with a shudder offear I pictured her in the midst of such a scene of abominationand desolate misery.

Death was a million times preferable to existence insuch a hell of life as this!

I WAS not without apprehension that, as soon asthe drunkards and rowdies woke up, there wouldbe some renewal of the night’s disturbances, withtrouble to follow for the women and for us who hadkept watch over them.

But the anticipation was unfounded. The menwere too ill to make trouble. The fearful atmospherethey had breathed, combined with the effects of theirintoxication, had sapped alike their strength and theirenergy. Listless, sick both in mind and body, crushedin spirit and utterly downcast, they kept apart fromus and huddled together in a compact companionshipof weary, lifeless, dejected wretchedness.

Several of those at our end of the prison, men andwomen alike, were in much the same condition. Daylightappeared to add to their sufferings, instead ofdiminishing it. In the dim gas light they had beenspared the sight of the other’s condition; but it wasrevealed to them now and made them the more consciousof their own evil plight. The pestilentialatmosphere had also enfeebled them; and the fraillittle Pia and her strong helpmate were hard put toit to keep them from giving way. Many of themfainted, gasping piteously for air; and Pia asked meto get the men to help in holding one or two of them upto the windows that they might breathe fresh airin place of the pestilence-laden atmosphere of thegaol.

[310]The men agreed readily, although themselvesgreatly weakened by the night’s experiences, and Ihad just laid down one woman whom a companionhad helped me to revive in this way, when he beganto speak of Pia; praising her courage, her enduranceand her resource.

“She is a little heroine and will be missed by ourfriends,” he said, when I echoed his praises warmly.“I hope they can prove nothing against her. How longhave you known her?”

“I saw her for the first time here.”

“She is heart and soul in our cause and one of thestaunchest workers and the bravest.”

“What cause is yours, my friend?”

“You are right to be cautious; but my cause isyours, and yours mine.”

At this moment Pia touched me on the arm.“Will you come and look at this poor soul here?”she asked; and as I turned and we bent over a womanwho had fainted, she whispered hurriedly: “That manis a spy. Be careful what you say to him.”

I was astounded. It seemed incredible that anymoney, any reward however lavish, could induce aman to face the horrors of such an inferno as that gaol.

“Can you lift her to the window?” asked Pia,seeing my look of incredulity; and she whispered:“It is true. I know. Be very careful.”

The man helped me hold the unconscious womanto the air; and when we set her down somewhatrevived, he was at me again, seeking to draw somecompromising admissions from me in response to hisown violent abuse of the Government.

“You are mistaken about me and should not speakso unguardedly to a stranger even in this place,” Ianswered.

“I should not had I not seen how you sympathizewith our friends here. It is true we have not metbefore, and in that sense we are strangers; but a fellowship[311]of suffering in our common cause makes us allfriends—aye, and more than friends.”

“What I have done has been done for motives ofmere humanity.”

“But they recognize a leader in you—and I proclaimmyself as devoted a follower as any of them.”

“I am no leader of any cause, man. I am an Englishman;my name is Donnington; and I have beenbrought here through the blundering of the police.”

“They are devils,” he exclaimed vehemently, andthen tried to lead me into joining in his abuse of them.But little Pia had put me on my guard, and after atime he abandoned his efforts and fastened on toanother man, with results I was delighted to see.

The man listened for a while and presently, takingoffence at something which the spy said, answeredhotly; the spy lost his temper and let fall a remarkwhich others beside the man he was pumping resented.They closed round him and first thrashed him soundlyand then knocked him across to the other group. Thelatter glad to get hold of one of us grabbed hold of him,and venting on his cowardly body all the rage theydared not vent on us, they beat and kicked and mauledhim unmercifully, until his screams for help attractedthe attention of the warders and they entered anddragged him away.

Knowing that he would seek revenge by lying aboutus, I got from Pia all the names of the men who hadstood by me during the night, so that when I was outof my own troubles, I might tell Volheno what hadreally occurred.

Soon after that the door was thrown open and severalofficials entered. They made a careful note of theunusual division of the prisoners into the two groups,and at once ordered the removal of those with whomwe had had the trouble.

While this was going on I went up to the chief officialand told him my name and asked for food for myself[312]and those remaining. I was famished and parchedwith thirst. I had not had even a crust of bread fortwenty-four hours and only the sip of brandy whichInez had given me.

His reply was an oath and an order to hold mytongue.

I pointed to the women and asked for food forthem, and the brute raised his hand and struck meacross the mouth.

Mad with rage at this, I sprang on him and pulledhim down, dashing his head against the stone flags.In a moment half a dozen of his men rushed up anddragged me off, kicking and mauling me with theutmost violence, and then put my wrists in irons.

Their leader rose livid with rage. “You shall havethe lash for this, you traitorous dog,” he hissed betweenhis teeth. “Fling him in the corner there,” heordered. “The lash shall tear the flesh from yourback for this. Yes, the lash and plenty of it. Thatshall be your breakfast. Yes, the lash, the lash;”and he repeated this several times, each time with afierce and bitter oath, as if gloating in the prospectivetreat of seeing my flesh cut to ribbons.

I was flung into the corner, as he had ordered—theloathsome spot, reeking with all the filthy abominationsof the vile crew who had passed the night in it—andthe other prisoners were forbidden to come nearme under penalty of sharing my punishment. Butthe door had scarcely closed on them before little Piacame straight across, with gentle reproaches for myfutile violence and words of sympathy for my trouble.

I tried to send her away, fearing the warders wouldreturn and find she had disobeyed their order; butshe would not go. The skin of my face was brokenslightly where one of the men had kicked me—only agraze, for the force of the kick was spent before his foottouched me; and she insisted upon wiping the fewdrops of blood away. Her touch was that of a hand[313]skilled in healing; and as she did what she could tocleanse the little wound, her eyes were full of tearsand her face a living mask of pity and sympathy.

“In a moment half a dozen of his men rushed up
and dragged me off.”

“Go, go before they return and find you here,” Iurged her.

“Is it not you who saved us all from the worstterrors of this awful night? Shall I desert you nowyou have brought this trouble on yourself?”

“Go, please go. You can do me no good and onlyharm yourself,” I begged her; but she would notgo, and was still with me when the men came back tolead me out.

They seized her at once and, being brutes not men,handled her with cruel violence. I would have cursedthem in my empty rage had it not seemed like a dishonourto her, in her calm quiet, almost saint-likeresignation.

We were taken out together into a large quadrangle,and I caught my breath with a shiver of panic as Isaw on the other side the whipping post surroundedby a group of men, two of whom held many-thonged,heavily knotted whips.

We were led across to it and a halt was made, andthe two powerful men with the whips eyed us bothwith sinister, half-gloating gaze.

I was ashamed of my cowardice then. Grit myteeth as I would in a firm resolve to bear the awfulpunishment of the lash, I turned cold and sick at thethought of it. But the frail creature by my side wasutterly unmoved. She was pale, but no paler thanusual, and as calm and unmoved as the whipping postit*elf.

To the brutalized ruffians, the tragedy was morelike a pleasant farce.

“Only two this morning?” asked one of thoseholding a whip.

“May be more presently,” replied one of the menwith us.

[314]“I want more exercise than this,” was the growlinganswer, uttered with a sort of snarling laugh.

“You’ll have plenty with this dog. He struck thecaptain.”

“He looks as if he had less stomach for his breakfastthan the girl here.”

The taunt bit like an acid and did more than anythingcould have done to revive my drooped courage.

In this coarse way they jested until another prisonerwas brought out from a different cell and tied up forthe lash. I will not dwell on the sickening scene whichfollowed. I shut my eyes and, had I not been ironed,would gladly have closed my ears as well to keep outthe awful sound of the poor wretch’s screams, untilthe blessed relief of unconsciousness silenced them.

Pia stood with her hands clasped to her eyes andher thumbs pressed close to her ears, and did not lookup until the unfortunate victim was carried away,the blood dripping from his lacerated back makinga gruesome and significant track across the flags.

I thought my flogging would follow immediately;but it turned out otherwise. We had merely beenmade to witness the terrible punishment that ourcourage might be broken and our senses racked bythe sight of what was in store for us.

Instead of being triced up to the post, we were ledaway into another part of the building; and one of themen with me explained with a chuckle that such anumber of strokes as I should receive for my offencecould only be ordered by the Governor of the prisonhimself.

As we were taken into the room I saw the officerI had struck, who was addressed as Captain Moros,in close consultation with a tall, thin, grey-bearded manin an elaborate uniform decorated with several medals.This was His Excellency the Governor. He frownedat me over the rims of his pince-nez; and I perceivedat once that he had been already informed of my[315]heinous deed, and that the captain had made the caseas black as possible.

“This is the man, I suppose?” the Governorasked him.

“Yes,” said the captain, and he turned to thewarders by my side.

“Is he securely ironed? He is a very desperateand very dangerous ruffian,” he added to the Governor.“I have ascertained that he nearly killed one of hisfellow-prisoners in the night and instigated an attackupon another of them this morning;” and he benttoward the Governor and whispered to him.

He was describing the incident of the spy’s mauling,and he finished in a tone loud enough to reachme. “There is no doubt he recognized him and wasat the bottom of the whole thing.”

“Who is he? Is he known to our men?”

“Oh, yes. I have made inquiries. He is one ofthe most violent revolutionaries in the city. Altogethera most reckless, dangerous man. I am able to vouchfor all this personally; and there is no doubt he meantto kill me. I had a most marvellous escape.”

“How do you say the attack was made?”

“Without a word of warning. I was watchingas some of the prisoners were taken out of the celland he sprang on me suddenly from behind andtried to throttle me. It took half a dozen men todrag him away.”

“Certainly a very bad case; as bad as it could be.And the woman, who is she?” asked the Governor.

“A political suspect in league with the man. Ihave reason to believe that she incited him to attackme. I had the fellow separated from the rest andordered them not to go near him on pain of sharinghis punishment. I really did that as a test to findout if he had any close associates among them. Shewent to him at once in defiance of my orders; and Ifind that they are old companions. They acted[316]together all the night in a very suspicious mannerindeed.”

“She looks very young and fragile for such apunishment.”

“Your Excellency will see that flagrant disobedienceof our orders such as this woman was guilty of cannotbe passed over. She knew the penalty of disobedience;and if prisoners find that we can be set atdefiance with impunity, the difficulty of keepingthem in subjection will be very great. I feel thatmy sense of duty compels me to press this case.”

“I see that, of course. The doctor had betterexamine her to see if she can bear the punishment.”

“You may of course leave that to me,” was thereply; and the Governor was quite willing to do it.

A pause followed, and I was waiting to be questioned,for I had not even been asked my name, whenPia’s clear young voice broke the silence.

“General de Sama.”

If a bomb had exploded suddenly in the room itwould not have produced much more astonishment.The Governor looked up with surprise; the captainshouted “Silence her;” and the two men holdingPia shook her angrily, one of them clapping a handto her mouth. It was evident that none but officialdogs must bark in that place, and for a prisoner toopen her lips was a crime.

I made an effort to explain, but before a couple ofwords were out of my lips, I was silenced as Pia hadbeen.

When the commotion caused by this had subsided,the Governor addressed me. “You have attemptedthe life of Captain Moros and you are evidently avery dangerous and desperate man. The punishmentfor your crime under the law is death; but yourintended victim has interceded for you and has mercifullyasked that the case shall be dealt with, not as acapital crime against the law of the land, but as an[317]offence against the discipline of the prison. As suchI have power to deal with it. It is a very graveoffence, very grave indeed, and the punishment mustbe in proportion to its gravity. You will receivea hundred lashes to be administered twenty strokesat a time with such intervals between each floggingas the doctor shall decide. You have every reasonto be grateful to Captain Moros for his leniency. Asfor you,” he added, turning to Pia, “your case is different,but I am compelled to uphold the discipline ofthe prison. You knew beforehand the punishmentof disobedience. But you are young and may havebeen led into this trouble by your evil companionthere. You will receive five strokes with the lash.”

With that he signed to the men to take us away.

I was so dazed, stunned and overwhelmed by theterrible sentence that even the gloating look of triumphand malice on Captain Moros’ face failed torouse my resentment, as my guards hustled me away.

AS it turned out, this same paralysis of despair whichfell on me after hearing my terrible sentenceproved the means of saving me. I had tried to explainwho I was and had been silenced, and anyattempt during the proceedings would have failedin the same way.

But as I was being taken out, my condition of helplessnessled the warders to believe I was too feebleto offer any sort of resistance, and their hold of mewas very slight.

Just as I reached the door, through which Pia hadalready passed, my wits awoke and my energy quickenedin obedience to an instinct of self-preservation.The Conte de Sama had been one of those to whomthe Marquis de Pinsara had introduced me on thenight of the reception, and the conte had written mesubsequently that his brother, General de Sama, theGovernor of the prison, was anxious to co-operatewith me.

I sprang back from the gaolers’ loose hold of me,therefore, and darting toward the Governor I rushedout the words: “There is a mistake. I am RalphDonnington, the Englishman who seeks the BeiraConcessions. Your brother, Conte de Sama——”

I had no chance to finish, for I was collared by thewarders, one of whom silenced me as Pia had beensilenced.

Captain Moros was furious and put himself in front[319]of the Governor, as if to protect him from my violenceand ordered the men to drag me away instantly.

But I had appealed to a far higher force than thelaw—the cupidity of this Portuguese notable; andhe had heard enough to rouse his fear of losing a chanceof fortune.

“Wait,” he said quickly to his companion. “Remainhere with your prisoner,” he ordered the gaolers;and then, as if to conceal his personal interest in mystatement, he was shrewd enough to cover it with areference to the law. “If the prisoner is an Englishman,Captain Moros, as he says, you will see theremay be somewhat serious complications. I mustquestion him. Have the female prisoner broughtback.”

“May I sit down?” I asked abruptly. My legswere trembling under me and I was feeling faint fromwant of food and quite used up. He consented anda warder placed a chair for me.

“If you are an Englishman”—and he affected tohave forgotten my name, stumbling over it—“howis it I find you here?”

“Ralph Donnington is my name. I was arrestedlast night by mistake as a political suspect. I passedthe night in this prison, and when Captain Morosentered it this morning, I told him who I was and askedhim for some food. He ordered me to be silent. Ithen asked for some food for the women who werelying ill from the effects of the awful night we had allendured. His reply was a blow on the mouth, andI lost my temper and grappled with him.”

The captain tried several times to interrupt me withfurious outbursts, but the Governor—thinking nodoubt of the concessions—would not let him interfere.

“If your statement is true, it puts a very differentcomplexion on the matter. You must see that,Captain Moros.”

“It is a pack of lies,” he declared.

[320]“All the prisoners heard and saw what passed.Interrogate them singly and they will corroborateevery word. I have the honour of the friendship ofM. Volheno and I shall appeal to him to do so. Ihave requested to be allowed to communicate bothwith him and with the representatives of my country,but no notice has been taken. If your Excellencywill send to M. Volheno, you will be immediately convincedthat I am what I say—Ralph Donnington, anEnglishman of great wealth, enjoying the friendshipof the Marquis de Pinsara and many other prominentmen in Lisbon, and here for the purpose of acquiringvery valuable concessions in your African Colony.”

The concessions won hands down, and the victoryextended even to little Pia who had been broughtback and stood listening in amazement.

“This must be inquired into, of course,” said theGovernor after a pause. “Free the prisoner’s hands,”he added. Then to me: “Do you know anythingof the girl at your side?”

“I will answer for her as for myself. I knowher to be innocent of any wrong, and that she is aboutto leave the country. I am indeed interested inmaking arrangements for her to do so.”

Pia moved restlessly and was about to protest, Ithink, so I placed my hand on her shoulder andlooked into her eyes: “You will bear out what Isay?”

To deny would compromise me, and that I wassure she would not do. After a slight pause, shesaid simply: “That is so.”

At my mention of Volheno’s name the Governorhad scribbled a line and handed it to a subordinatewho took it away.

“I am compelled to protest against this, yourExcellency,” said the captain at this point. “Andhaving made this protest, I will, with your permission,return to my duties.”

[321]“The matter has taken a very grave turn, CaptainMoros; you will be good enough to remain until weknow more. This may be serious for you.” Thesubordinate returned then and handed a packet to theGovernor who whispered with him, and sent him awayagain. “I find that you gave your name on beingbrought in last night, Mr. Donnington. Here is whatwas found upon you. I shall return all except a paperwhich I may have to deal with differently. I revokeboth sentences.”

This was, of course, the confession of Gompez andthe rest. “May I ask that some of the money maybe used to buy food for the wretched prisoners inthat cell?”

He granted the request and sent some one awayfor the purpose.

“I have telephoned to M. Volheno, and have nodoubt, from what he says, that all is as you represent.He desires to see you as soon as possible.”

“May we go then? I have had no food sinceyesterday morning.”

“There is still one formality,” he replied. Heturned then to Captain Moros and said somethingwhich made the brute go white and set him trembling,as he protested. But the protest was evidentlyunavailing, and after some further words, he roseand went out at the back of the room. I learnt afterwordsthat he was made the scapegoat for my treatmentand dismissed from his position.

Just as this incident ended, the door by which wehad entered opened and another prisoner was broughtin. To my amazement I saw it was Bryant.

“Do you recognize any one here, prisoner?” theGovernor asked him.

Bryant stared all round. “Only my master, Mr.Donnington.”

“Was that the formality, your Excellency?” Iasked.

[322]“M. Volheno said you two were to be confronted,and I had no option but to do so. You are now atliberty to leave.”

“And my servant?”

“Certainly. I trust you will let this most regrettableand unintelligible series of mistakes pass out ofyour mind. Here are the things taken from you—thepaper I am sending to M. Volheno. And now,”he added, as he offered me his hand; “I shall be gladif at some time convenient to yourself you will affordme an opportunity of discussing with you the matterin which you so interested my brother.”

Pia was at a loss what to do. So I laid my hand onher arm. “Come,” I said.

“But——” she began.

“Come,” I repeated, more insistently, and sheyielded, leaving the place as if she where walkingin her sleep. But as soon as we were in the streetand the gloomy gates had closed behind us, she pausedto take two or three deep breaths, her face raisedskywards and her eyes shining brightly in rapture,and then smiled, as if the very air itself were at oncethe symbol and the proof of the liberty so unexpectedlyregained.

After that she turned and held out her hand tome.

“You are out of prison, Pia, but you are not free,”I said, shaking my head. “I have answered for you;and you cannot return to your associates here withoutfalsifying my pledge.”

Her eyes clouded in embarrassment. “What canI do?”

“In the first place you are going to put absoluteconfidence in your new gaoler and let him look afteryour future, as soon as he knows what you wish todo. He is a very stern gaoler and will take no refusals,”I added, interrupting a threatened protest.

“If you are anything like as famished as I am, your[323]first desire will be to eat something;” and we turnedinto the first hotel we reached.

Some objection was taken to our appearance—wewere like three towsled tramps—but money soonovercame that, and while I was doing what I couldto get rid of the results of the night’s imprisonment—Piahaving gone off with a servant for a similarpurpose—I listened to Bryant’s account of his experience.

It was pretty much what I anticipated, but withan unexpected result. He had waited for me outsideInez’ house for some hours and had then contrivedto send a message to Captain Bolton. Together theyhad agreed that the skipper should go and tell thepolice about my disappearance, while Bryant remainedon watch.

But in some way the abduction plot had becomeknown. The police had jumbled the two things upand, on reaching Inez’ house, their first act was toarrest Bryant himself on suspicion, refusing to believeor even listen to his explanation; and he had been inprison up to the moment of his being brought in toidentify me.

It turned out that Captain Bolton had been makinginquiries everywhere both for me and for Bryant;and Volheno had heard of the latter’s imprisonmentand had been on the point of ordering his releasewhen General Sama had communicated with himabout me.

I told Bryant to hurry his breakfast and go downto the quay to send word to the skipper that we wereboth at liberty, and then drive to Miralda’s housefor news of her, and bring me the result of his inquiryto my rooms.

Pia’s story was soon told. She had no living relatives.She and her only brother had lived togetheruntil he had been led to join the revolutionary party.His arrest had soon followed through the betrayal[324]of a false friend who had tried to make love to herand in revenge for his defeat had betrayed him. Thebrother, feeble and delicate in health, had beenquestioned as to the plans and names of his companions,and Pia declared that his refusal to speakhad been punished with the lash. He had died inprison, and this had driven her into hot rebellionagainst those whom she termed his murderers.

She had been hunted for by the police; but herarrest on the previous night had been an accident—shewas caught as I had once been—in the thick of afracas between the police and the people. She hadnot given her right name, but, feeling sure she wouldbe identified, she looked forward to sharing the samefate as her brother.

This fact explained the readiness of the Governorto liberate her.

“You have no friends anywhere?” I asked.

“I have only one friend in the world; but whenmy brother was arrested, he had to fly for his life.That was almost on the eve of the day we were tohave been married,” she said simply.

“And where is he?”

“In America.”

“That settles it then. You will go out to him.”

She tossed up her hands. “Some day, perhaps.”

“There is no ‘perhaps’ about it and no ‘someday.’ Do you know that if it had not been for youI should have had that lash this morning. If youhad not mentioned the Governor’s name, I should nothave known him and been able to do what I did.You will go out to New York by the first boat you cancatch, and you will leave Lisbon for Paris to-day,and go to an address I will give you to wait in safetyuntil that boat starts.”

“Monsieur!” she cried tremulously.

“I am your gaoler, remember, and responsible foryou. You must let me persuade you to do what I[325]say. And now, I must go. Hurry your preparationsand return to me here;” and I gave her the addressof my flat.

“But I—I cannot accept your money, monsieur.”

“But you can use it. I shall lend it to you, and whenyou are married in the new world, you will soon beable to repay me. There is a place for such a womanas you in the world and good work waiting to bedone by you. You promise to come to me?”

She could not speak. The tears, which no persecution,nor the horrors of the past night, nor eventhe almost certain prospect of the lash itself had beenable to draw from her, were standing thick in hereyes as I left her and hurried to my rooms.

I decided to go to Volheno as soon as I had changedinto some decent clothes, and secure a pardon forMiralda in return for a full statement of what I knew,and then obtain his assistance in searching for her.There was a faint chance that Bryant would bringback some news of her from the vicontesse; buthe did not arrive before I was ready to go to Volheno.

I found him studying the paper which General deSama had sent to him from the prison, and his firstquestion was about it.

“Why have you made prisoners of some of HisMajesty’s officers?” he asked.

“I have much to tell you and of very grave importance,but there is a condition,” I replied. Itold him enough to convince him that my informationwas such as to place clues in his hand strong enoughto enable him to break up the whole revolutionarymovement so far as the Pretender’s friends were concerned;and then named my condition.

Without mentioning their names I described atlength the means which had been adopted to forceMiralda, Vasco and Dagara into the scheme and howthey had helped me to thwart it, and asked for awritten assurance of pardon for them all.

[326]He fought hard and tried every means to get thenames from me. A long and at times very heatedaltercation followed, in which I declared that I wouldmake all the trouble I could on the score of my owntreatment, and finally that I would seek an audienceof the king himself and lay all the facts before him.

I won the victory in the end, and I had the assurancein my pocket when I gave him the story, confiningmy statement to what I had overheard on theRampallo and all that had followed from it. Wethen arranged for the Stella to go out at once to pickup the Rampallo and to carry out Government agentsto take over charge of her and the officers.

I purposely abstained from mentioning Inez, butthe fact that I had been arrested in her house ledVolheno to question me about her. I found that thehouse had been raided through a blunder of thepolice who had mixed up some information they hadreceived with Captain Bolton’s statement that I wasa prisoner there. Volheno had nothing definiteagainst her, and I would not give him any information.

Of Miralda’s whereabouts he knew no more thanI. She had not been arrested, however; and I returnedto my rooms to learn the result of Bryant’svisit to her house.

He brought no news of her. He had seen the viscontessewho was almost prostrate with grief andanxiety at her absence.

There was only one inference to draw. Miraldamust still be with Barosa; and where to look for thembaffled me.

I RACKED my wits in vain to think of some clueto the place where Barosa was likely to hide.I ransacked my memory to recall every incident ofmy stay in the city, every word which had beendropped in my hearing, and every man I had met,having any connexion with him or any of his companions.But it led to no result.

All I could think of was to institute a house-to-housesearch of the whole city; and I wrote to urgeVolheno to have this done, declaring I would cheerfullybear all the expense and give a liberal rewardto any one who brought me the information I craved.

But the thought of the length of time which sucha search would involve drove me to the verge ofdespair. I must find some means by which I myselfcould take part in the search. To sit still with foldedhands was a sheer impossibility.

I thought of Inez. She might now be willing tohelp me. I had the key now to what had so perplexedme during the last few minutes I had spentin her house. While she and Barosa were wrangling,Marco had rushed up with the news of the policeraid, and this had prevented Inez from keeping herpromise to return to me.

She had meant to return—that was clear now—andshe was in fierce earnest that Miralda should leavethe house with me. The loaded revolver—whichhad proved such a Greek gift when the police had[328]found it upon me—had been honestly given, to provideme with the means of overcoming any opposition,whether from Barosa or others, to our gettingaway.

But the words she had used in giving it only pointedto greater danger now. “Get Miralda away or I willnot answer for myself.” With Barosa and Miraldastill associated, the devil of jealousy I had rousedin Inez might goad her to some act of wild rage againstMiralda; and the thought that I had placed her inthis added peril stung and scorched me with all theagony of a festering wound.

My helplessness was torture; and yet I could not thinkhow to commence my search, where to go, or whatto do. Stay in the house I could not, and I rushedout into the streets, wandering aimlessly about,scrutinizing every one I met, as if I expected thatsome of those I sought would stroll about publiclyin the full light of day in order that I might see them.

After a time I found myself close to Inez’ house,and as I loitered about I narrowly escaped beingonce more arrested by the police. I went from thereto the house in the Rua Catania and then to the RuaFormosa, where I had been subjected to the “test”—themost unlikely spots in all the city, of course,where I should find any one. And that I should gothere at all only proved the fatuous vagueness ofmy thoughts.

From the latter place I was on my way back to myrooms when I remembered where Henriques had beenemployed as a porter. I hurried there at once, butwithout result. Not a trace was to be found.

I returned to my rooms in despair. It was now latein the afternoon, and little Pia was waiting for me.She had finished her few preparations and was readyto go.

“You are in great trouble, Mr. Donnington. Whatis the matter?” she asked as I entered, her smile[329]of welcome changing on the instant to a look of deepconcern and sympathy.

“Yes, I am in sore trouble. Wellnigh besidemyself, but I will see to your matters.”

“Tell me. Let me help you.”

“Could you help me, I wonder.” I had not thoughtof her. She might know of some places where I couldsearch, but on the other hand, she could not giveme the information without bringing those withwhom she had been associated into danger of arrest.

“Tell me. You can surely trust me,” she urged.

“You could only help me by betraying your formerfriends. Do you know a Dr. Barosa?”

“By name, yes. There is nothing you can ask meI will not tell you. You believe that as I am sureyou believe I will keep everything you say secret.”

A few seconds decided me to tell her enough tomake the position clear—that what I wanted was toknow where to look for Barosa.

“I do not know that I could help you much inany case. It is very difficult,” she murmured, herface troubled and her manner expressing both perplexityand wistful anxiety.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“You said I might have to betray my former associates.Does that mean that you will take the policewith you?” She paused and sat biting her lip ingreat distress. “If you ask me, I cannot refuse.”

“If I can find Mademoiselle Dominguez withoutthe police it is all I want.”

She brightened instantly. “Can you get me somedisguise?” Seeing my surprise, she explained,“I would go without it, but it would not help you.Since we parted this morning, I have had a very narrowescape from arrest in my own name. The policeare swarming near my lodging, and it is in that districtwe must search. I was on my way there whenby good fortune I met a friend—a girl who had lived[330]in the same house as myself. She warned me notto go near it because the police were in it. Herbrother had been arrested and she herself was flying.To go as I am, therefore, would not help you.”

“You must not go at all. Tell me where to go,”I said.

She hesitated again. “If I hesitate, you willunderstand me. Let me be frank. Some of thepeople have been very kind to me and to put theminto the hands of the police would be an ill return.”

“I will not take the police with me. Tell me whereto search, and I’ll find means of doing what I needwithout the police.”

“A little to the west of the Theatre of DonnaAmelia and close to the Square of Camoes is a nestof streets; and many of the houses are those of ourfriends where any refugees are certain of a ready shelter.It is there I should expect to find those whomyou seek. But you must go not as you are. Itwould be not only useless but dangerous, and you mustbe careful to have help at hand. If your object weresuspected, you would look in vain for a friend in allthat district.”

I opened a map and she pointed the neighbourhoodout to me and indicated a spot at the corner of theSquare which would be the best for my purpose.

“There are three theatres close there, and thehawkers always stand about there to catch the peoplegoing to them. You could thus watch without beingsuspected;” she explained.

I took her advice and set about my preparationsforthwith, and while getting ready, a thought occurredto me. I sent Bryant with a note to Volhenotelling him I had an important clue and I askedhim, as I had already had a narrow escape of beingarrested, to give me a line or two which would protectme from anything of the kind and enable me to callupon the police to assist me if I should need their help.

[331]Pia helped me to disguise myself as a pedlar ofmatches, suggesting many clever touches—the resultprobably of her experiences—and when I was readynot a soul in all Lisbon would have recognized me.

Volheno sent me the letter I asked for, and whenBryant returned with it I told him to disguise himselfalso and to watch me from another corner of theSquare, and to have Simmons and Foster, who had notgone in the Stella, in a liquor shop close at hand.

Then I slipped out of the house and shuffled offon my search in the character of a match seller. I hadabout a mile to go across the city to my destination,but I did not reach it. I had just turned into theRua da Carmo when a man carrying a bag and havingthe air of a commercial traveller crossed the streetand came up to buy a box of matches.

His disguise was good, but as he lit his cigaretteI recognized him. It was Marco; and in a momentmy other plan was abandoned and I decided to followhim.

He made straight for the Central Station. Afterstudying the time-tables, he went to the booking place,entered into conversation with the clerk and boughtsome tickets, turned away with a casual air and leftthe building again.

Either Pia was all wrong in her guess as to thelocality where Barosa was likely to hide, or Marcowas not going back to him. He sauntered idly acrossthe Square of San Pedro, turned into the Rua Bitesgo,quickened his pace slightly as he reached the Rua daMagdalena, and branching off to the left, when abouthalf-way down, threaded his way at a quick paceamong the maze of streets which form the district ofEastern Lisbon.

This was directly in the opposite direction from thatwhich Pia had suggested; but I was certain by thechange from his former sauntering pace to a quickstride, that he was taking me where I wanted to go.

[332]His speed made it difficult for me to keep him in sightwithout his discovering that I was shadowing him.Twice I nearly lost him as he made a double turn inthe short tortuous streets, and after that I had tolessen the distance between us, doing my best toslink along in the shadow of the houses.

Presently he turned into a very steep hilly streetand, slackening, began to look about him warily. Iguessed that he was getting near his destination, andredoubled my caution. About half-way down thehill he stopped at the corner of a dark street somewhatwider than the rest, where the houses were larger,and I slipped to cover in the wide porch of a houseon the opposite side.

Two men were in sight, one coming down the hilland the other up, and lighting a cigarette as a pretextfor loitering, Marco waited until both men had passedand gave each of them a sharp searching look. Assoon as they were out of sight, he turned and hurriedalong the side street.

I followed quickly, but when I reached the cornerhe had disappeared.

I had run him to earth; but which house he hadentered I could not tell, of course. I passed themouth of the street and had a good look at thehouses. He had not had time to go more than fiftyyards; and within that distance there were only sixhouses, the two nearest of which were detached andstood well apart from one another.

Keeping under the shadow of the buildings I walkedthe length of the street and discovered that it had nooutlet at the farther end. I returned to the corner withthe same caution, and then considered what to do.

I felt at liberty to seek the help of the police ifnecessary. My promise to Pia not to do so did notapply now, since my discovery was not due to anythingshe had told me, but to the accidental meetingwith Marco.

[333]At the same time, I did not wish to bring the policeinto it except in the very last extremity. It wasquite possible that they would arrest every one in thehouse, including Miralda herself; and after myterrible experiences of the previous night, the thoughtthat she should endure even for an hour the horrorsof such a den of beastliness was unendurable.

If it proved necessary for me to enter any housein search of Miralda, it would be nothing short of sheermadness to do so alone; and in that case I musthave the help of the police.

But it might not come to that. Marco’s visit tothe railway station and his purchase of tickets wasplain evidence that some one, presumably Barosa,was meditating immediate flight from the city. Butas there was only the one outlet from the street,he could not leave without passing me; and certainlyhe could not get Miralda away.

There was another consideration. The meditatedflight suggested that Miralda was not in any immediatedanger. It might be better to risk a little delay,therefore, rather than take a hasty step with consequenceswhich I might afterwards have bitter causeto regret.

Then I began to consider whether I could possiblyfind means of sending a message to Bryant so as tobring him and the others to my assistance. Withthem to help me, I should have no hesitation in enteringthe house, if I could ascertain definitely in whichBarosa was hiding.

I was puzzling over this when Marco came out ofthe second house, and I noticed one little significantfact. In addition to the bag, he was carrying anovercoat on his arm. This meant that he at any ratehad been staying in the house; and it decided me notto follow him.

He walked to the corner of the street and wasturning up the hill away from me when he changed[334]his mind and came straight towards me. I drewback against the wall to avoid him, and he had all butpassed when he caught sight of me. The start he gaveshowed that he recognized me as the man from whomhe had bought the matches.

He paused a moment, put his hand to his head, asif he had forgotten something and turned to retracehis steps. He meant to warn the others in the house,of course; and as I had to prevent this at any cost,I stepped forward quickly and grabbed him by thewrist.

“What do you want with me, you old fool?”he said roughly, trying at the same time to shake offmy hold.

“You are my prisoner,” I said sternly. “Who arein that house there?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Which house?”

“The one you have just left. I know you. Answer at once.”

His answer was both clever-witted and quick.He flung the overcoat he carried over my head andmade a fierce snatch to break away from me, whilereaching at the same time for a weapon.

I held on, however, and managed to trip him up. Aswe fell together the coat dropped away and I was intime to seize the barrel of a revolver he had succeededin drawing, and drag it out of his hand.

“It’s no use, Marco,” I said.

He knew me then. “The Englishman!” he criedwith an oath of unbounded amazement.

“Yes, the Englishman,” I said.

THE discovery of my identity, combined nodoubt with the fact that I had disarmed Marco,put an end to any thought of resistance, so I pulledhim up and forced him against the wall, and kickedhis bag and coat close to his feet.

“Now, Marco, tell me who is in that house and bequick about it.”

“Will you let me go if I do?”

“I’ll hand you to the police if you don’t. Youwent to the railway station to-night and took sometickets. I saw you and then followed you here. Youwent into the second house across the road. Nowwho are in there?”

“Barosa, Maral, Countess Inglesia and MademoiselleDominguez,” he said sullenly after a slight pause.

“Who else?”

“No one.”

“What have you come out for now?”

“If I tell you everything, will you let me go?”

I repeated my question.

“To fetch a carriage. Mademoiselle Dominguezis in no danger,” he added, thinking probably toappease me. “She is going to leave with us, and hermother is to join us at the station. I took a letter toher this evening. If I tell you everything, will youlet me go?”

As a matter of fact I wished to get rid of him now[336]that I had obtained the information I needed. ButI did not let him know it.

“No,” I answered fiercely with an oath. “Youtried to murder me yesterday, you villain, and youshall pay for it with your life. I have the police inhiding close here and I’ll give you to them!” ThenI made a pretence of hauling him away, but at thetime I stooped as if to pick up his bag and loosenedmy hold of him.

He saw his chance and took it. He tore himselffree, pushed me violently away, snatched up his bag andcoat and darted off. With a cry of rage, I startedin pursuit, but I went no more than a few yards,just far enough to convince him I was in earnest,and then returned to my corner well satisfied to havegot rid of him so easily.

His information put a different complexion onmatters. As he was going for the carriage whichwas to take Barosa and the rest to the station, thetime for their departure must be drawing near; andwhen he did not return, some one would probablycome out to look for him, or they would all have tostart for the station on foot.

I could well afford to wait for either result. Miraldawas safe thus far, and, according to Marco, was willingto trust to Inez and Barosa to get her away from thecity. The two latter had probably patched up a peace,and it was no doubt Inez’ plan to have the viscontessewith them—as a useful check on Barosa.

About a quarter of an hour later the door of thehouse opened and some one looked out. I could not distinguishwhether it was a man or a woman, however,as my attention had been distracted by three or fourmen at some distance away who were coming downthe hill in my direction.

I made out soon afterwards that they were police,and as I did not wish to be seen and questioned atthat moment, I slipped along the by-street and hid[337]in a doorway nearly opposite the house I was watching,to hide there until they had passed.

Before they reached the turning, however, someone in the disguise of an old man came out of the houseand shambled along toward the corner. It mustbe either Barosa or Maral, I knew; and as itwould vastly simplify things if I could scare himaway as I had scared Marco, I slipped like a shadowacross the road and got between him and the house.

He heard me and turned.

“I arrest you, Dr. Barosa,” I cried, and started as ifto run after him.

Taking me for a police agent, he paused a second,drew out his revolver, and then, thinking probablyhe could both save himself by flight and prevent theothers in the house being discovered, he turned roundand bolted.

But in avoiding me, he ran right into the arms ofthe police who reached the corner of the street at thesame minute. There was a short sharp scuffle, a cryor two of astonishment, a gruff call to surrender,a pause, and then a shot.

One of the police fell, and I saw Barosa break away,reach the middle of the road, and raise his hand to hishead. A flash and a report followed, he lurchedheavily and then dropped, as a drunken man drops,nervelessly and all in a heap.

Everything had occurred with such dramatic swiftnessthat I could scarcely realize it. In a few secondsa number of people came hurrying up, attracted bythe noise of the shots, and as they crowded roundthe police, I joined them and edged through to thefront.

The man whom Barosa had shot was sitting on thedoorstep of the house at the corner, hatless andvery white, but I heard one of his comrades saythat he was not seriously hurt.

Two others had carried Barosa close to the same[338]spot and were bending down, examining his woundand feeling his heart for the pulse.

“Dead,” announced one of them with an oath, andas he rose I saw Barosa’s face. The false beardand wig he had been wearing had fallen off in thescuffle; and the right cheek and temple werediscoloured with the powder, the blue-blackmark showing plainly in contrast to the grey pallor ofthe face.

He had chosen death rather than imprisonment;and after my experiences of one night in that hell,I was not surprised.

The police did not recognize him and had no ideathat he was a man of any importance.

“Does any one know him?” was asked, and somehalf-dozen of those present pressed forward, lookedat him, and shook their heads.

I took advantage of the movement to back away,and as I turned I came face to face with Maral. Hehad not seen Barosa, and I did not mean that heshould. Very much to his surprise, I linked my armin his and drew him away across the mouth ofthe street to the corner from which I had kept mywatch.

“Come with me or you are lost,” I said in a lowvoice.

“Who are you?”

“You are Sebastian Maral. The police are there.You must fly or you will be taken.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend if you go, an enemy if you stay. Myname does not matter. A secret agent—but youonce did me a good turn. I am going to raid thesecond house over there. I give you a chance to fly;if you stay I must hand you to my comrades.”

“But I——”

I cut him short. “Say which it shall be. Quick.I can’t give you another moment or I shall be seen[339]with you. Are there any men left in that house?We have taken Barosa.”

An oath burst from him and he began to tremble.“There are only two women there. But—”

At that instant there was a movement among thelittle throng across the street. Two or three of thepeople went running past us and I saw others hurryingin the opposite direction. They were sent by thepolice probably in search of a conveyance.

“My men are coming. Which is it to be. Quick,” Isaid, and let go my hold of him. He hesitated forno more than a second and then, tossing his handsup in despair, he turned away, walked a few steps,then quickened his pace, and at last ran at full speed.

Barosa having been caught as he was leaving thelittle side street, it was possible that the police mighttake a fancy to search some of the houses, so I deemedit prudent to hang about until they had gone and thecommotion caused by the affair had subsided.

Two carriages arrived almost together, one fromeach direction. Barosa and the wounded man wereplaced in one and the police drove away. The driverof the other was moving off, grumbling at having beenbrought there for nothing, when I stepped into theroadway and hailed him.

“Drive away and come back in a quarter of an hour,and wait at this corner for me,” I told him.

“Wouldn’t your highness like a four-in-hand?”he asked with a contemptuous jeer at my poverty-strickenappearance.

A milreis changed his sneer to a glance of curiosityand amazement. “It will pay you to do what I sayand keep your tongue between your teeth,” I saidcurtly.

“I’ll be here,” he replied, and rattled away down thehill.

I crossed to the house at once and knocked lightlyat the door. No one opened it; so I knocked again,[340]a little louder; and again a third time. Still withno result. The house was, as I have said, all in darkness,and, although I listened intently, I could not hear asound.

It was probable that either the three men had hadkeys or that the door was to be opened only in responseto some agreed knock. I did not know it, of course,and might stay there rapping all night without beingadmitted.

Both Inez and Miralda would be intensely alarmedby the failure of the three men to return and if theyhad heard Barosa’s shot or had seen anything of thecommotion that followed, they would certainly concludethat the three had been arrested and mistakemy summons for that of the police bent upon effectingan arrest.

It was a most provoking and unexpected check.I left the door and fumbled my way round to the backto try and get admittance there. I was no expert atburgling, but even if I had been I should have beenpuzzled how to get into this house. There was a door atthe back letting out upon a small garden; but it wassecurely fastened, and every window in the lower part ofthe house was protected by both outside bars and insideshutters. It was hopeless to try and force them.

There was a stack pipe running up to the gutterat the roof; but it was so placed that if I climbed itI could not reach any window except one on the topfloor; and an attempt to enter that way meant a veryconsiderable risk that I should break my neck. Therewas no urgent necessity to run such a risk, so I wentround again to the front of the house to look for achance of getting in there.

It was no more promising than the back, so far asthe windows within reach were concerned.

It was almost ludicrous to find myself in such afix. Here was I able and eager to save both Inezand Miralda; and there were they shivering with[341]panic and regarding me as an enemy bent on theirdestruction and arrest; and only this infernal lockeddoor and the barred windows between us.

I tried knocking again, but with no better result thanbefore, and then it occurred to me that although Ihad examined the front and the back and one side, I hadnot inspected the fourth side.

The chances of breaking in there were better. Therewas a small projection built about half-way up thehouse with a window level with the first floor, whichdid not appear to have either shutters or bars. Astack pipe offered a chance of reaching this window,and although the pipe was unpleasantly insecure Ijudged that even if it gave way I could not hurtmyself much, as there was a flower bed with someshrubs on the spot where I should fall.

I began the ascent very cautiously, digging my toesinto the courses of the bricks where I could, and carefullytesting the bearing strain of the pipe beforetrusting my full weight on it. It was a very difficultbusiness, for part of my disguise consisted of a longovercoat which hampered almost every step I took.

But I made the ascent safely and managed to get agrip of the window ledge, and then, pulling myself uptill my chin was level with the window, I found aslender but sufficient hold for my feet on a ledge of thebrickwork.

To my relief the window was unfastened. I openedit very cautiously, climbed in over the sill, into a tinyroom quite bare of furniture. I listened intently and,not hearing a sound, tried the handle of the door.To my intense chagrin, it was locked. It seemedas if some diabolical ingenuity was at work to preventmy effecting Miralda’s rescue.

The door opened outwards and that made it easier forme to force it; but I was loth to make the row whichthis would cause and so advertise the fact that I was inthe house.

[342]It had to be done, however, so I put my shoulderto it and tried first to force it open with quiet pressure.This proving unavailing I dashed myself against itwith all my weight and strength. At the third attemptit yielded with a crash which echoed through the house,making a din which would have roused the heaviestsleeper in the remotest part of the building.

Then I stood listening again intently. Not a sound.I was close to the head of the stairs. Fearing that thenoise I had made would scarce Inez and Miralda halfout of their senses, I tried to reassure them.

“Miralda, Miralda. It is I, Ralph,” I called loudly,but only the echo of my own voice replied.

Disconcerted at this, I lit a match and hurried throughthe rooms, calling her name as I went. I searchedfirst those on the floor where I was; next those above,and then went below.

Save for the scanty furniture, the house was empty,and there was not a sign that Miralda had ever beenin it.

EARLIER in the evening, barely an hour before,indeed, the discovery that the house wasdeserted would have alarmed me profoundly, forMiralda’s disappearance might then have had a verysinister significance. But she was no longer in anydanger. Barosa was dead and I had the assuranceof the pardon for her association with his plot.

Instead of being alarmed therefore, I burst outlaughing as the reason for her disappearance flashedupon me.

She had obviously run away from me.

When first Marco, then Barosa and lastly Maralhad left the house not to return, Miralda and Inezwould have been both desperately perplexed andthoroughly scared. Waiting to fly in accordancewith the plan which Marco had explained to me, theywould immediately conclude either that the men hadbeen arrested or had had to run from the police.

In this condition of fear they would naturally keepa sharp look-out, and thus would have seen me.In my disguise their inevitable inference would bethat I was a police spy who had discovered theirhiding-place, and my movements had been just suchas would tend to confirm that belief.

When I broke into the house, therefore, they wouldrealize that their only chance was to fly from it,especially when they found that I was alone and thatno police were in the street to stop them.

A moment’s consideration prompted the conclusion[344]that they would make for the railway station in thehope that Barosa or one of the other men would eludearrest and be there to meet them.

I hurried out of the house, therefore. The carriagewas waiting, and having questioned the driver andfound that he had not seen any one come out of the sidestreet, I told him to drive to the station as fast as hecould.

It was fairly certain that neither Maral nor Marcowould run the risk of going to the railway. Barosaprobably had the tickets in his possession; and as Iwas resolved that Inez should leave the city, my firstact was to purchase a ticket and put it in an envelopetogether with some banknotes, in case she should bewithout money.

Then I made a round of the building in search ofthem. They would almost certainly be disguised,but I was confident that my instinct would enable me todetect Miralda, however well disguised, while thefact that the viscontesse was to be of the party wouldhelp me.

Neither the viscontesse nor any one even remotelysuggesting Miralda was in the station, however. Atrain was due out in a quarter of an hour after myarrival, and I loitered near the barrier, keeping asharp but futile look-out, until it occurred to me thatI myself might be defeating my object. If the twohad seen me as a spy getting into the house, theywould instantly conclude that I was watching forthem now. So I looked for a place where I couldhide and still watch.

Five more minutes passed and I scrutinized everypassenger and every individual within sight. Arather lanky youth in the company of a squat, stout,broad-shouldered market woman, apparently hismother, appeared to be waiting to meet some one,but there was not another soul loitering anywhere inthe station.

[345]As the time was now getting very short, I left myhiding-place to go and look outside; and as I nearedthis couple, the boy put his arm through his mother’s,drew her attention to something at the other side of thestation, and walked away with her. The woman waslame and rolled in her walk with a most grotesquewaddle.

After a dozen yards or so they paused and the youngfellow looked round. He appeared disconcerted tosee that I was watching them, and drew his motherforward again.

Then I nearly laughed aloud. The woman took twoor three steps without either the waddle or the limp;suddenly recollected herself and went lame with thewrong foot.

I hastened after them and as they quickened theirpace, I called out in English: “You’ve forgottenwhich is your lame foot, Miralda.”

They stopped and turned, but even when I wasclose to them and saw their faces clearly, I shouldnot have recognized the market woman as Miralda,nor the lanky youth as Inez, had it not been forMiralda’s eyes. I had looked too often into them notto know them.

“It is I, Ralph; you’ve been running away fromme the last hour or more,” I added, laughing.

“Ralph!” cried Miralda. “What does it all mean?”

“You shall know all directly, but I must speak toyour son there first. He has not a moment to lose ifhe means to catch this train.”

“Mr. Donnington?” exclaimed Inez. “Where——”

“You must let me talk, please,” I interrupted.“When Dr. Barosa left that house he ran into a partyof police, but I managed to get a word or two with himbefore he fled, and I have to give you this ticket andthe money with it. You are to leave by this train.If you remain another hour in Lisbon, you will bearrested.”

[346]“Where is he?”

“You haven’t a second to spare,” I cried, givingher the ticket and pressing the envelope into herhand. “You will learn everything later. Miraldais pardoned. And now go, or it will be too late;”and I urged her away in the direction of the barrier,without giving her time to question me.

She hesitated, walked away a few steps, pausedin doubt, and was turning back, when the call to thepassengers to enter the train came. She chokedback a hundred unspoken questions, hurried through thebarrier and got into the train.

With a sigh of satisfaction I watched it move alongthe platform and disappear in the darkness, and thenturned to Miralda. Her disguise was really wonderful.The complexion was darkened almost to the tan of amulatto, and the skin of the forehead, nose and upperhalf of the cheeks was lined very cunningly and hadthe wrinkled look of age: on the left side of the facewas what looked like the cicatrice of a bad wound orburn, and on the right a large disfiguring claret-colouredbirth-mark. Both mark and scar extended to thelips, and along the edges of both and across the lower lipwas fastened a cleverly moulded skin-covered plasticpad which gave the appearance of the flabby cheeksand fat double chin of a woman of middle age, thelower part being lost in the folds of a neckerchief.

The effect was grotesque, and as I stared at her inamazement, the upper part of her face crinkled, whilethe lower remained stolidly impassive. “Are youtrying to smile?” I asked.

“You look comical enough to make any one smile,”she replied, her lips scarcely moving, as she spokethrough her nearly-closed teeth.

“I suppose I do. But have you seen yourself in aglass? Whoever did that, knew his business; butyou—you are not exactly pretty, you know. I canscarcely believe it is really you.”

[347]“You are not even clean,” she retorted, tossingher head.

“I haven’t a hideous birth-mark and a double chin,at any rate.”

“But you’re a Jew with a hook nose and your greybeard is as dirty as it is long.”

We must have made an odd-looking couple in alltruth—a fat, waddling, disfigured, old market womanand a dirty down-at-heels Jew pedlar, and I sawthe station people were beginning to eye us suspiciously.

“I think it’s time the market woman went home,”I said.

“She is waiting for her mother, Jew.”

“I think she’ll be found at home. Barosa didn’tmean her to leave to-night or she would have been here.Nothing matters now except to get you home.”

“Where is Dr. Barosa?”

“I don’t know.” This was true in the letter; Ihad never been down where he deserved to be. “WhenI saw him last he was in the hands of the police,” Iadded.

“But I may be arrested also at any minute.”

“Not by the police. You are pardoned, but theother arrest is imminent.”

“What other arrest?”

“This, by the old Jew,” I replied, linking my armin hers to leave the station. “Let’s see how fast themarket woman can waddle.”

She was a willing prisoner and pressed close to mewith a happy unrestrained laugh, and then clappedher hand to her face with an exclamation of dismay andlet her head droop as we went out into the street.

“Why did you cry out?” I asked.

“It’s coming off. What shall I do?” she cried.“You shouldn’t have made me laugh. I didn’texpect to have to laugh when this was put on.”

“Thank Heaven, we can laugh as much as we likenow—even at one another. Can’t you get it all off?[348]The Jew’s going,” I said, and I took off my grey beard,eyebrows, nose and wig, with a sigh of relief.

“I’ve got all but the last bit off,” said Miralda, asshe held up her face under the light of a lamp andlaughed merrily.

Cicatrice, birth-mark and double chin were in onepiece and adhering now by the mark. I peeled thisback carefully, and then held her upturned face closeto mine.

“I thought the Jew who arrested me was gone,” shesaid.

“It was the market woman he arrested. Miraldais free—if she wishes.”

“It doesn’t seem much like it;” and she movedin my arms.

“Does she wish it?”

“She doesn’t wish to go to prison.”

“Does she wish to be free?”

“Do you think it would be safe for her to be freein the streets alone?”

“Is she willing to pay for an escort?”

“It depends on the terms.”

“There are several. The first is that you smile.”

“I can do that although my face is still very sticky;”and she smiled and grimaced.

“The next is to say one word and promise to answera simple question.”

“What question?”

“You must promise first. But the answer mustbe the truth.”

“Oh, what an insult! That’s the Jew back again.Anything more?”

“Yes, the proper corollary to the answer.”

“Don’t you think the escort is rather a coward tomake all these terms now?”

“Yes, but he insists all the same.”

“Well, what is the word?”

“Ralph,” I said.

[349]“That’s easy—Ralph,” she said with purposefulunconcern. “I’ve done two of the things—the escortought to take me half-way home for that.”

“Now for the question.” I paused and her lightassumption of indifference changed under my earnestgaze. She made an effort to release herself. ButI held her fast. “Do you love——”

“Ralph!” A very different tone this as she hidher face against my shoulder and then let me lift itthat our lips might meet in the rapturous ecstasy ofthe lingering betrothal kiss.

Roused by the sound of approaching wheels, we drewapart and walked on hand in hand.

It proved to be the carriage which had taken meto the station and the driver asked if I needed him.

Oblivious to all else save our happiness, I shouldhave let him pass, but the question brought me toearth, and I stopped him. He stared in some astonishmentat us both as I put Miralda into the carriageand told him to drive first to my rooms.

I remembered that Pia was waiting there, andwhen I told Miralda about her, she declared she wouldtake her home.

When we reached my rooms, Simmons was there,Bryant having sent him back when he did not see me,and I told him to go in search of Bryant. Then Itook Pia out to Miralda and drove home with her.

We found that the viscontesse had not heard anythingof the projected flight from the city. The letter whichMiralda had written to tell her about it had not beendelivered, Barosa having substituted for it one writtenby himself to say Miralda would be home that evening.

“You see I didn’t answer that question after all,”said Miralda as we were alone and I was bidding hergood-night.

“Which question?” I asked, as if I did not understand.

“You know I didn’t.”

[350]“Didn’t you? I had an impression——”

“Not in words,” she broke in with a flash of happylaughter.

“That’s a challenge. You shall answer it now,”I cried, putting my arm as far round her much-swathedwaist as it would reach.

“You are developing a very masterful manner, Mr.Jew.”

“It is necessary with a rebellious market woman.Answer it now.”

“Which question?” she mocked, mimicking myindifferent tone.

“Do—you—love——”

She put her hand to my lips, and silenced me, andthen lifting her eyes to mine she threw her arms roundmy neck and whispered: “With all my heart, Ralph,and for all my life.”

And again we sealed the compact with the allappropriate formalities.

The next morning M. Volheno sent for me and Iwas glad to find him anxious to hush up the wholematter of the Abduction Plot. In pursuance of thispolicy, two conditions were attached to Miralda’spardon—absolute silence about everything and ayear’s expatriation for her, her mother and the visconte.Vasco was to be transferred to a regiment in PortugueseAfrica.

I told him of Barosa’s death, and that he was reallyLuis Beriardos, Dom Miguel’s trusted agent, and hewas genuinely relieved. Barosa’s fate was neverpublicly known and he was buried under a differentname as the result of a concocted identification.

The fate of his associates on the Rampallo I neverlearned. The yacht and the prisoners on her werehanded over to the men whom Volheno sent out inthe Stella with secret instructions; and when theyreturned neither the skipper nor Burroughs knewanything.

[351]By the time of the Stella’s arrival, the viscontessehad completed all arrangements for the year’s enforcedabsence; and a few hours after the yacht’s anchorwas dropped it was weighed again and I was taking afarewell look at the city.

Miralda and her mother were below and Pia waswith them. She was to sail for America from Southampton.

I was heartily glad to go. It had been a strenuouslove quest, but all the trouble and the dangers wereforgotten in that joyous hour of success, in the glowingconsciousness that I had won the woman I loved, andthe thrilling realization of my hopes.

As I stood dreaming of the happiness to come,there was the soft rustle of a skirt and a hand wasslipped into my arm.

“You are glad to go, Ralph?” asked Miralda.“You were smiling.”

“I was thinking of my fellow passenger,” I whispered.“And she is smiling, too.”

But her eyes were very thoughtful behind the smile.It was natural. All her young life had been passedin the city she was leaving.

She turned her eyes from me, let them roam overthe glorious panorama of the city and the hills beyond,and then turned to me again. “I was trying to thinkif I have any regrets. I have not. I have not in allmy heart a thought that is not wholly happy at beingwith you. But it has been my home.”

“I know,” I said, understanding; and I took herhand and pressed my lips to it. “You will grow tolove the new home, and it shall be one of peace andcontent and, so far as I can ensure it, of happiness.”

“Is that all?” she asked, with half mischievous,half wistful glance.

“What more would you have, dearest?”

“That which draws me to it and makes me happyto go,” she said in a whisper.

[352]“Ah, our love. To last, please God, until life’send.”

She caught her breath, pressed closer to me, sighedand then smiled as she repeated in a whisper of prayerfulearnestness: “Until life’s end.”

And then we stood together in silence too happyfor words, until the yacht had turned out of the rivermouth and the city was hidden from view.

THE END

Butler & Tenner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.