Vendetta in Spain

In consequence the War Minister, General Linares, had had the not very bright idea of calling up the Catalan reserves. Since the war in Africa was most unpopular anyway and Barcelona, as ever, more strongly anti-Government than any other city, this, as might have been foreseen, had had the worst possible results. Hundreds of young Catalans liable for service were refusing to join the colours, the city was in a ferment and a General Strike was threatened. A further cause for anxiety was that these troubles now threatened to undermine the value of the peseta in the international money market.

The Duke was aware that there was fighting in Morocco, but had thought it no more than one of the outbursts by hot-headed tribesmen that so frequently took place; and as a heavy censorship was being imposed, his glance through the morning papers had given him no hint of the much more serious trouble at home. Now he no longer wondered that Don Alfonso had appeared so distrait after dinner.

Out at the villa, in the cool of the evening next day, the Cordoba house-party, which included a couple named de Tarancon, assembled round the fountain in the garden to drink iced Manzanilla while de Richleau told them how, while trying to trap an anarchist, he had been shipped off to Rio and of the life he had led in Central American cities and in the jungle.

They expressed the greatest interest and asked many questions, with the one exception of Gulia, who showed by a slight smile now and then that she was listening, but made no comment, and appeared to be half-absorbed in some embroidery that she was doing.

When the men sat over their wine after dinner they discussed the crisis again and the shortcomings of the army. The lean, good-looking Conde Ruiz, as elegant as ever with his curled hair, black sidewhiskers and wearing a velvet burgundy-coloured smoking jacket, was playing host. He maintained that the root of the trouble lay with the Church, because its demands on the State's funds were so great that there was never enough left over to provide the army with all the supplies it needed.

De Tarancon backed him up, declaring that the power the Church continued to wield was far too great. He instanced the fact that all efforts by the Government to limit the number of religious houses had been frustrated, and that quite recently the Prime Minister, Senor Maura, had been forced against his will to appoint a most unpopular monk, Father Nozaleda, as Archbishop of Valencia.

The Conde nodded agreement and went on to castigate a new measure, by which a huge loan was to be raised to compensate the Religious Orders for the damage they had sustained during the Revolution of 1868. He roundly declared that for the Government to accept liability for such a claim after a lapse of half a century and, above all, at the present time, was nothing less than a piece of financial madness.

De Vendome, however, owing to his strong religious feelings and friendship with many of the leading prelates, argued that the majority of priests lived in dire poverty, and that any nation which did not put the work of God before any other consideration did not deserve to prosper. He then went on to attack the Generals for their incompetence, lack of true patriotism and the highhanded manner in which at times they combined to defy even the King.

Later, in the drawing-room, de Richleau learnt from Gulia further particulars about her husband's trip to South America. The Conde had left Spain early in May and gone first to the Argentine. After a fortnight there he had crossed the Andes to Chile and Peru, returned to stay for a few days in Uruguay, then travelled up the coast to the principal cities of Brazil. He had last written that having completed his business in Bahia he intended to go on an expedition up the Amazon for a few weeks to hunt the wonderful tropical butterflies on the banks of which river they abounded. He would then go on to Venezuela and the capitals of the Central American Republics; so he did not expect to get back much before the end of October.

When the Duke was taking his leave Gulia did not offer him any further invitation, and it was de Vend6me who asked him to come out to bathe with them from the private beach next morning. Only then did she endorse the Prince's pressing with a vague apology for not having thought of suggesting it herself. In view of Gulia's attitude he almost felt that he ought to refuse; but since he was staying in an hotel and all of them must know it to be highly unlikely that he would have any other engagement, to do so would have struck them as very queer, so he accepted.

While he was being driven back to his hotel in one of the Cordoba carriages his mind was occupied in succession by two very different sets of thoughts.

First, distress and sympathy for the young King in his Herculean task of trying to keep the peace between the greedy hidebound Church, semi-mutinous Generals, and the large section of his subjects who was now clamouring for the blood of both.

Secondly, pique at Gulia's attitude towards himself. He had meant to take every possible precaution against being left alone with her. But clearly she had not the least desire for a tete-&~ tete with him. It was evident that no vestige remained of the burning passion she had felt for him three years ago. That, he could not help feeling, was not very flattering to him; but at least it would enable him to see as much of the Cordobas as he liked without fear of a renewal of their entanglement which, in view of her husband's absence abroad, could have proved all the more dangerous.

His reaction to her apparent coldness only went to show how easily a man of even exceptional intelligence and shrewdness can be fooled by a clever woman who desires him. If he could have seen into Gulia's mind an hour or two later, as she tossed and turned restlessly in her big canopied bed, he would have thought very differently.

18

Put on a Chain

The beach party the next day was a large one for, in addition to those staying in the villa, Gulia had invited several friends, but what should have been a carefree gathering was overshadowed by the morning's news. The papers, although still reticent, had been allowed by the Censor to print enough to show that a really serious state of affairs existed in Catalona.

One of the party, named Senor Dencas, a wealthy Barcelona industrialist on holiday, who had been invited by Conde Ruiz, told them that he felt certain that a General Strike would lead to armed risings and, perhaps, even civil war. He added that for several years past the movement for Catalan independence had become so generally accepted that if the workers rose in revolt the majority of the upper and middle classes would give them their support.

Challenged by de Vendome on his statement that responsible people would join with Marxists and anarchists in fighting the Government, Senor Dencas "shrugged his broad shoulders and said, 'After the way in which we Catalans have been treated, what can you expect? We are business people and our principal concern is to earn a decent living. We contribute a far greater share of taxes than any other part of Spain; yet the Government is not content with that, but permits the livelihood of many of us to be threatened by iniquitously unfair competition.'

'In what way?' inquired de Richleau.

'By allowing the Church to engage in commerce,' came the prompt reply. 'The Religious Houses have, of course, always had their industries: farming, the cultivation of vineyards, the manufacture of various local products and so on. No harm in that as long as these things were for the support of their own communities. But in recent years the Church has gone into business. I mean real business, with advertising campaigns, export departments and Fathers who are sales-managers. It gets its labour free so can, anyway, undersell us; but that is not the end of the story. We have to pay a tax on everything we make, but everything made by the Religious Houses is tax free.'

Conde Ruiz nodded. 'Yes, it is utterly wrong. Spain's trade in liqueurs is an example. We have our Anis del Mono, Calisay, Cuarenta y Tres, and many others which could rival the best productions of the French and the Dutch; but abroad they are almost unknown, because the firms that make them are too heavily taxed to be able to afford to popularize them. Whereas Chartreuse swamps the market; and the Fathers who make it at Tarragona, since they were expelled from France at the turn of the century, are positively rolling in money.'

'It is the Church, too,' remarked Dencas, 'that is responsible for the repressive laws that prevent progress. We Catalans are a go-ahead people. We resent being forced to have our children only partially educated because there are so many things that the Church prefers that they should not know, and the absurd censorship which is still maintained on great numbers of foreign books solely because they deal with the lives of men and women in a realistic manner.'

'I suppose there are certain matters in which the Church should adopt a more progressive attitude,' de Vendome agreed reluctantly, 'but if one once opened the gates to doubt it might result in a landslide towards free-thinking. The Church is the great bulwark protecting family life and the discipline which it inculcates ensures millions of people maintaining a high standard of conduct. In Spain, too, the Church has played a greater part than in any other country.'

⁴Ah, now you are talking of the distant past, Prince,' Denc&s replied. Tt is true that in the days of Ferdinand and Isabella our great Cardinal Cisneros emancipated the Church of Spain from the domination of Rome, and purged it of all the abuses which were rife among the priesthood all over Europe during the Middle Ages. That is why there was no Reformation here. By the time Cisneros had done his great work there was no more need for reform; so he saved the Spanish people from becoming infected both by the Protestant heresies and the religious civil wars that caused so much misery in other countries. But the state of the Church today is very different from that in which he left it. Under his rule even the highest prelates led the lives of the greatest simplicity and self-denial. They were a strength and example to the nation, and Spain's greatness in the sixteenth century was largely due to them. Now the State subsidizes the Church to the tune of 300,000,000 pesetas per annum and in return for it has been so shackled as to become one of the most backward countries in Europe.'

De Vendome flushed and was obviously about to make an indignant protest in defence of his friends the Fathers, but de Tarancon, who had played the part of a listener during the conversation, prevented a possible quarrel by saying that it was quite time for them to go in for another swim.

A few days later the storm broke. A General Strike was declared throughout Catalonia and in Barcelona the workers threw up barricades in the streets. There were anti-Government demonstrations in many other cities but San Sebastian, being so largely a holiday resort, remained free from any serious trouble. Life there went on much as usual, except for the rush to secure a paper every time a new edition was put on sale.

After the first beach party to which de Richleau had gone, on the 21st, he became swiftly absorbed into the de Cordoba circle. The Denc&s and two other couples at it had asked him to lunch or dine, and Gulia had said pleasantly, if without enthusiasm, that she hoped he would use the beach regularly for his morning bathe.

On the 24th, Conde Ruiz left in haste for Madrid to take charge at this time of crisis of the bank's affairs, from its headquarters; but the Infanta, her lady-in-waiting, the de Tarancons and de Vendome all remained at the Villa, and several other friends, like de Richleau, had been made free of the private beach, so most mornings there was a party of from eight to a dozen people swimming and paddling there.

For three days there was desperate fighting in Barcelona, buildings were fired, convents sacked, priests and nuns maltreated; but the discipline and superior weapons of the troops gave them the upper hand. Several hundred rioters were killed and several score of soldiers; the organized resistance to authority collapsed.

At the end of the week the King returned to San Sebastian and next day he sent for de Richleau. The Duke found him working in a small, open-fronted marquee in the garden of the Palace. Don Alfonso sent away the secretary who was with him and, having waved de Richleau to a chair, said:

'When last you were here I had this Barcelona business on my mind, but the situation there is now in hand, so I would like to hear what it is that you wanted to say to me.'

De Richleau gave an account of Benigno's attack on him in Yalta, then went on to say, 'I squared accounts with the younger Ferrer brother in Cadiz before I was shipped off to South America. The other is, by this time, in Siberia and it is most unlikely that he will ever return to plague us further. But I was amazed to hear from him that he and his father were never brought to trial, and that after a year's imprisonment they were allowed to go free. Would Your Majesty care to enlighten me about this extraordinary failure on the part of the authorities to administer justice?'

Don Alfonso made a wry face. 'Yes; to you, Duke, whom these people did their best to murder, it must seem extraordinary. But remember, their friends had succeeded in getting you out of the way, so that you could not have appeared had they been brought to trial; and you were the key witness.'

'But you, Sir, assured me that even if I was prevented from giving evidence against them they would still be awarded the death penalty, or at least a life sentence.'

'I know it! I know it!' the King shrugged impatiently. 'But despite all their efforts the police failed to secure really damning evidence against these people. At least, that is what they said.

And at that time I had a Liberal Cabinet. You should have heard the fuss they kicked up in defence of this man Ferrer and his associates. They actually argued that with his Escuela Moderna he had been doing a service to the country, because he provided an opportunity for a part of the youth of Barcelona to acquire a much broader education than it could have received in any of our national Church-sponsored establishments.'

They may have been right about that,' de Richleau replied, 'but they seem to have left out of account that these people also corrupted youth. Advanced teaching may be desirable in many ways, but not if it is of the kind that would do away with law and order. The freedom to express an opinion is all very well, but not when it is an older person telling admiring youngsters that if they do not approve of your Government it is an heroic thing to murder the officials appointed by it, and that it is nothing to worry about if they kill a score of bystanders into the bargain.'

'I entirely agree with you, and I was most loath to consent to the release of the prisoners. Before doing so I had de Cordoba write to you asking if there was any prospect of you returning to Europe in the fairly near future. Had there been I would have insisted on their being held until you were here and could give evidence at their trial. But de Cordoba received no reply to his letter. After waiting a final month I had no alternative, short of quarrelling with my Ministers, but to allow Ferrer and his friends to be set at liberty.'

The Duke shook his head. Tf de Cordoba's letter was written ten or eleven months after I left Spain, by the time it should have reached me I was probably many miles from civilization, buried deep in one of the Central American jungles. No doubt the bag of mail in which it was fell off a mule into some swamp or river. Anyhow, it never reached me. Had it done so, Sir, I can assure you I would have returned to see to it that Ferrer and Co. got their deserts. It is for that purpose that I have now come back to Spain.'

Tf only you had returned a month or so ago,' Don Alfonso murmured.

'What difference would that have made, Sir?'

Tt would have made a world of difference. Ferrer and his friends were then living openly just outside Barcelona, once more spreading their pernicious doctrines. The police could easily have picked them up and we could have had them brought to trial. That might well have proved the stitch in time that would have prevented the recent outbreak of armed revolt in the city. There can be no question about it, the anarchists were behind that, and if only we could have roped in their leaders a few weeks ago it would have saved many lives, much bloodshed and a great deal of bitterness.'

'There is, then, more reason than ever to arrest them and bring them to trial.'

True; but that is easier said than done. Warrants are out for them on a charge of having incited the workers to rebellion; but yesterday I had a report that they have already gone to earth, and it may now prove extremely difficult to trace them.'

De Richleau leaned forward and said earnestly, 'Your Majesty. As you are aware, after accepting the mission with which you charged me, I spent the best part of two months in Barcelona posing as a Russian refugee. During that time I got to know a considerable number of people with whom the Ferrers had dealings. Not all of them were anarchists. Many of them must still be living normal lives and it is most unlikely that your police would know that they have ever been acquainted with Ferrer. Through one or more of them I feel confident that I could get on his track. I request Your Majesty's permission to proceed to Barcelona and collaborate with your police in hunting Ferrer down.'

'No.' The young King's voice was firm. 'You served me well, Duke, three years ago in enabling me to break up the original Escuela Moderna; but you very nearly lost your life in the process and have since been a marked man. Barcelona is now a veritable hornet's nest, and I'll not allow you to stick your head into it. I refuse to have the blood of so good a friend on my head.'

The Duke sighed. 'I appreciate Your Majesty's consideration for me. But I am a soldier and used to taking my life in my hands, I am determined to get the man Ferrer sooner or later; so I beg you to reconsider your decision.'

'Sooner or later,' repeated the King. 'That is another matter. And nothing would please me better. For the year that Ferrer was in prison anarchist activities in Barcelona practically ceased. Soon after he was released they recommenced and for the past year they have steadily mounted in numbers and violence. There was only one lull. Last November a squadron of the Fleet of Austria-Hungary paid a courtesy visit to Barcelona. My Ministers did their utmost to persuade me not to go there to receive it; but I insisted. The celebrations lasted for three days and during them not one bomb was thrown. Three days without a bomb! It was a record against the sort of thing that had been going on for months, and considered quite remarkable. That gives you the picture.'

'It also gives me a picture of Your Majesty's popularity,' de Richleau smiled.

True. The reason given for the lull was that anyone who had thrown a bomb at me would have been torn to pieces by the crowd; and that the great majority of my subjects should feel that way about me is most gratifying. But it does not console me for the loss of the hundreds of my loyal officials and soldiers who have been murdered by these evil men. And no sooner had I left Barcelona than their outrages recommenced.'

'May I ask, Sir, what the situation is there now?'

'The back of the revolt has been broken, but mopping up operations are not yet completed. My new Home Secretary, Juan de La Cierva, is a good man. He feels that this may be a chance to clear things up in Barcelona once and for all, and he is taking strong measures. Among others, a house-to-house search is being conducted for arms. But hundreds of the malcontents must still have them and that is why I don't wish you to go there yet. There is too great a risk of your being shot in the back or from a window.'

'Things will never be cleared up in Barcelona until Ferrer is brought to book.'

'No; I fear you are right there.'

'Then when does Your Majesty feel that you might be disposed to let me off my chain, so that I can attend to him?'

'Not until the arrests have ceased and the excitement has died down. Even then it would be better to wait for a little because when the city has been back to normal for a while the ringleaders who have escaped the net will begin to take risks by coming out of hiding now and then. That should make it easier for you to catch your man. May I take it that you are enjoying yourself in San Sebastian?'

'Yes; all my friends are being most kind, Sir.'

'Then you had better remain here, and when the time is ripe I will send for you again.'

Seeing that the interview was over, de Richleau stood up, bowed, and said with a smile, 'I only hope, Sir, that you will refrain from putting too great a strain on my impatience to see this matter through.'

Much disappointed by the restraint Don Alfonso had put upon him the Duke lunched at a restaurant in the town with some friends then, after the siesta, as the visit to the Palace had deprived him of his morning bathe, he drove out to the de Cordoba's beach for an early evening swim.

For the past eight days he had seen Gulia every morning and, on most days, also later at a luncheon or dinner party; so they had again dropped quite naturally into the friendly relationship that had existed between them when he had first become convalescent. There was only one subtle difference. Then he had been tied to his bed or a chair so he had been unable to fetch and carry for her. Now, having after a few days come to the conclusion that she had no lover - or, at least, not in her social circle then in San Sebastian - her first coldness towards him had so titillated his vanity that, almost insensibly, he had asserted himself by assuming the role of her cav&lier. She had accepted his attentions gracefully and watched with amusement the skilful way in which he jockeyed other men who were always eager to serve her in small matters out of the chance to do so; but he and she had never been alone together for more than a few minutes and no word of their past feelings for one another had passed between them.

On this evening he had only just changed in one of the beach huts and walked out on to the sand when he saw Gulia and Dona Eulalia coming down from the house towards him. As they approached Gulia waved to him and cried:

T wondered what had happened to you this morning, until Frangois told me at lunch that you had been sent for to the Palace. But it's a lovely evening for a bathe and when I saw you from the house just now I felt I too must come in for a swim.'

Dona Eulalia settled herself with her embroidery in her usual chair and de Richleau made casual conversation with her while Gulia was changing. The bathing dress she wore this summer differed considerably from the one in which she had swum with him three years ago. The fashion had become both more elegant and practical. Skirts were now only knee-length, there was no heavy ruching about the shoulders, no sleeves and the material was much thinner; so the female form was more obviously discernible and women were not so heavily handicapped when swimming by the weight of water-soaked serge.

That, perhaps, partly accounted for the fact that Gulia had become a much stronger swimmer; and when, having joined him on the foreshore, she suggested that they should swim out to the point he had no doubts about her ability to cover the distance.

After wading out they swam side by side for ten minutes, then he shot ahead so as to reach the rocks first and help her up on to them. Near the point there protruded a flattish slab. It had been warmed by a long day of sunshine and there was no wind. Sitting on it they could wriggle their toes in the pools below them as the gentle swell rose and fell. They were still within sight of

Dona Eulalia, sitting something over a quarter of a mile away in front of the row of beach huts, but apart from that they were as much alone between sea and sky as if they had been on a desert island.

For a few minutes they sat in silence, getting back their breath, then Gulia pulled off her swimming cap, shook out her hair so that it fell over her shoulders, and said, 'Now, Armand, I want to hear what really happened to you in Cadiz. All you've told us is that you killed Sanchez in a fight, but his friends caught you and shipped you off to South America. I want to hear every detail from the moment you left me.'

She alone knew that it was not so much Sanchez that he had gone after as the photograph with which he feared Sanchez meant to blackmail them, and he now gave her the full story of his doings in Granada with La Torcera, in Cadiz with red-headed Inez, and the final scene in the Silver Galleon.

When he had done she sighed. 'And to think that negative had already been ruined before Sanchez made his escape from you in the garden. If only we had known. You would never have been shanghaied, and I would have been spared the worst month of my life. I nearly died from an agony of uncertainty about what had happened to you.'

'My dear,' he murmured gently. 'It distresses me greatly that you should have suffered so much on my account.'

She turned and looked at him, her eyes shining. 'How could it have been otherwise? I loved you desperately. I feared that those devils must have killed you and that I would never see you again.'

'The moment I reached Rio I sent a cable to Frangois and wrote fully to Jos6. It was impossible to let you know what had become of me any sooner.'

'I know; but you might also have written a personal letter to me; if only a line to say that you still loved me and that I need not fear that photograph being produced.'

'I did consider doing that,' he replied after a moment, 'but I felt there was too great a risk of such a letter falling into wrong hands. Had Jos6 chanced to open it by mistake, or should you have had an accident or been taken ill, or had he recognized my writing and asked you what was in it, the fat would have been in the fire. He could only have assumed from it that you had become my mistress; and as things never reached that point such a denouement would have been doubly unfortunate.'

Her full lips twitched in a little smile as she asked, 'Have you ever regretted that they didn't reach that point?'

'Often,' he admitted frankly. The man isn't born who, having had the chance to make love to you and did not take it, would not afterwards ask himself if he had not been stricken with madness.'

Thank you for the compliment.' Her smile broadened. 'But I don't doubt you found plenty of lovely young women to console you while you were in the Americas!'

He gave a little laugh. 'Plenty implies a lot; and I have always been a gourmet rather than a^gourmand in such matters. But I'd be a poor fish if for three years I had lived the life of a monk; and the gods were kind enough to send me a few very delightful companions to solace me in my widowerhood. Now tell me about your charming self?'

'I was not made to be a saint, either.' She shrugged her fine shoulders. 'Since we parted I have taken four lovers. Mostly out of boredom, it is true; but at least they have saved me from shrivelling up into a mummy physically, and I have had quite a lot of fun pulling the wool over old Dona Eulalia's eyes in order to give my lovers rendezvous without her suspecting anything.'

'Has Jos6 any idea of this?'

'Perhaps; but I rather doubt it. Anyhow, as I told you long ago, I don't think he would have any serious objection provided I managed my affaires discreetly.'

For a moment she was silent, then she turned her head again, looked full at him and asked, 'Tell me, Armand; do you still feel any love for me?'

In a flash he saw the danger signal blazing red ahead. 'No,' he said firmly. 'Affection, yes; but love, no. Time is a great healer and I got over that.'

Her Giaconda smile came again. 'You are lying, Armand. You are lying, and you know it.'

'Dios/' he exclaimed, suddenly turning to look at her. 'You're right, of course. Seeing what passed between us that last night before I left for Granada - that indelible memory of you - how could I possibly be in your company day after day as I have been recently without again succumbing and desiring you most damnably?'

She gave a low, happy laugh. 'I knew you would. But I had to have a little time to bring you to it. That is why I gave you such a cold reception on your arrival. If I hadn't you would have taken alarm and sheered off, wouldn't you?'

T suppose I would,' he admitted a shade ruefully. 'But Gulia, though you may look an angel you are certainly a fallen one.

Only a daughter of the Devil would have laid such a snare for anyone in such a position as myself.'

'I'm nothing of the kind,' she laughed again. 'I am just a woman -a woman in search of a man. It so happens that I have a healthy, lovely body and a very much better brain than most members of my sex. I don't have to be told that, I know it; so why shouldn't I use my assets to secure a lover who is healthy, handsome and intelligent too - a man like you?'

'I don't blame you. And I only wish it could be me.'

'Well, why not?' She raised a well-marked eyebrow in faint mockery. 'Jos6 is thousands of miles away chasing butterflies - real butterflies this time. The de Tarancons are going home at the end of the week, and Francois is leaving too.'

'Is he?' exclaimed de Richleau. 'Why?'

'He has volunteered for service in Morocco, and is going out with the regiment of which last year Don Alfonso made him Colonel-in-Chief. He leaves with the Taranc6ns the day after tomorrow. Ruiz is in Madrid. He may return for a night or two occasionally but, apart from him, that leaves only Maria Alfonsine, her lady Dona Isabella and old Eulalia, and as far as human relationships are concerned they are all as blind as bats. Now that there will be room in the house, since I shall be so heavily chaperoned, no breath of scandal could arise if I invited you to come and stay, just as you did before.'

The Duke put his head between his hands and groaned, 'Gulia! Gulia! When Thais tempted Paphuntius he was subjected to nothing worse than this. You are an experienced woman of the world and must know how greatly I desire you. I am flattered, too, terribly flattered that you should find me more desirable than other men. But you already know why I cannot allow myself to give way to this temptation.'

'If your reason is still the same, an outmoded chivalry towards the husband who has no use for me,' she replied bitterly, 'then I wish you joy of your hair shirt. But why, in God's name, must you play the Puritan with me when you admit to having had affaires with other women?'

'Because Jos6 is my friend. It is that which makes the barrier between us.'

'Such scruples may have been valid three years ago. But in all that time you have not even exchanged a word with him. To continue in such an attitude is farcical. It is the behaviour of a Don Quixote - the sort of fool who tilts at windmills.'

'You may be right,' de Richleau admitted miserably. 'But the fact that I have not seen Jose for three years makes no difference. If he were here he would still count me his friend; so how, without feeling eternal shame at myself, can I take you as my mistress behind his back?'

For a while they were silent, then Gulia said quite calmly, 'Very well. I must accept your decision. There are plenty of other handsome, intelligent men who would willingly become my lover. When I next feel in the mood I'll look round and choose one. All the same I should be loath to lose your friendship. Are you willing that we should forget this conversation and continue to see one another as we have done during the past week?'

He looked up quickly. 'Of course I am. Desire for you physically is only a part of the attraction you have for me. You are more beautiful than any work of art and I delight in looking at you; I love the sound of your voice and watching the workings of that quick mind of yours. I know that I am acting like a fool, but I just can't help it: and half a loaf is better than 110 bread. If you can forgive me for failing you as a lover and let me continue to be your friend I'll honour you all the more.'

'So be it then.' She gave a sigh of resignation but at the same time smiled at him. 'Once more I'll put away my wicked dreams and try to look on you as a brother. I think I can promise, too, that I'll give you no cause for jealousy. With you about all other men will continue to seem poor game to me, so it's very unlikely that I'll take another lover until I return to Madrid in the autumn.'

Coiling her Titian hair up into a bun she pulled her rubber cap over it, and added, Til play the game by refraining from tempting you further. But should you change your mind before we leave San Sebastian - well, let me know.'

Before he had time to reply she had slid off the rock and was swimming for the shore.

During the next few days and nights she was rarely out of de Richleau's thoughts. His conscience told him that he had done the right thing, but that was little consolation for having deprived himself of what he believed would have been two or three months that he would have been able to look back on as one of the high-spots of his life.

He tried to excuse himself for having deprived her of the happiness she sought by arguing that it was not love that drove her to pursue him. Three years ago he believed that it had been. He felt sure that although she might have contemplated taking a lover before they met, she had not done so; and that a woman of her kind would have had to be in love before, for the first time, making up her mind to be unfaithful to her husband. That he, her husband's devoted friend, should have chanced to be the man on whom she had set her heart had been hard indeed.

But now matters were different. Her love for him could not have endured since she admitted to taking four lovers. Now it could only be the aftermath of the old physical attraction that she felt. It was no longer love but lust that had caused her to renew her attempts to seduce him from his loyalty to his friend. The proof of that was the casual way in which she had spoken of taking another lover when she returned to Madrid in the autumn and in her reaction to his refusal to make her his mistress. If she had loved him she would have pleaded with him and burst into tears. Instead, she had taken his refusal quite calmly, and cynically told him that should he change his mind he had only to let her know.

He asked himself then if he loved her, but about that he could not decide. She delighted him in so many ways, yet simply to be in her company was not enough; his whole being yearned for her embrace so that at times he actually felt a physical pain from it deep down in his body. And what was that if not lust? Yet where did lust end and love begin? It was an age-old problem and insoluble. He had to admit to himself that there could be little to choose between their feelings for each other and that it was unfair to her to assume that love played no part in her desire for him.

On the Thursday evening there was a big farewell party at the villa for de Vendome, and on Friday morning they all went to the station to see him off. The de Taranc6ns left by the same train, but even after their departure Gulia continued to play the game as she had promised, neither going out of her way to be alone with de Richleau for a few moments, nor seeking to arouse his jealousy by flirting with other men who came to the bathing parties at the villa. Yet every now and then during these days he, perforce, caught her eye and was tortured by the knowledge that he had only to say the word for her to give him a secret rendezvous that would open the gates of heaven for them both.

As he was so deeply committed to her social circle there was no way in which he could avoid meeting her daily as long as he remained in San Sebastian; so he seriously contemplated leaving the city, and would have done so but for his promise to remain there at Don Alfonso's disposal until the King should consider the time ripe to let him off his chain. It was therefore with relief that on returning to his hotel on the Friday night after a dinner party given by the Dencases that he found a letter commanding him to lunch at the Palace next day, and for a few hours he was able to banish Gulia from his mind by searching it for people he had met in Barcelona who knew Ferrer.

The lunch proved to be a men's party of only six, all of whom were soldiers, and before they went in to lunch the King said to de Richleau, T thought it would interest you to join us today, Duke, because we are going to discuss the campaign in Morocco. As you served with the French Army in North Africa you must be well acquainted with the sort of problems we are faced with, and may be able to offer us some sound advice.'

De Richleau bowed his acknowledgements and as soon as they were seated at table the conversation became general. There could be no doubt that the war was most unpopular with the Spanish people and the King told his guests that he was being pressed by certain members of his Cabinet to give it up; but he had refused to do so. He then went on to express a view that was entirely new to the Duke, by saying:

'The greatest tragedy that ever befell our country was the discovery of America by Columbus. Already in Ferdinand and Isabella's time we had secured a foothold in North Africa and once the Moors had been driven out of Spain that was our natural road to expansion. King Ferdinand realized it because being also King of Naples and Sicily the possession of Tunis was important to him. So, too, did Charles V, who was regarded as the champion of Christendom owing to the great expedition he led against the lairs of the Barbary corsairs. Again in Philip II's time, after Don John had defeated the Turks at Lepanto, we should have seized on the chance to break the power of the Sultans, Beys and Satraps in North Africa.

'But during that century when Spain was at the height of her power the energies of her greatest captains were dissipated in the Americas. Admittedly we acquired vast territories and the gold and silver of Mexico and Peru. But what good did it do us? The result was an inflation of our currency that nearly ruined the commerce of the nation, and in the long run we had to spend more in costly expeditions to hold our gains than we got out of them in treasure.

'And where are we today? The last of the American colonies has been lost to us and we have nothing left to show for our centuries of effort in bringing Christianity to the New World. If instead we had devoted those efforts to North Africa while we had the strength we would be the masters of the whole of it from the Libyan border to Casablanca.

'Owing to our dynastic troubles and lack of a forward policy during the nineteenth century, France got ahead of us and made both Algeria and a large part of Morocco her own. But the Anglo-French agreement of 1904 at least stipulated that should the Sultan of Morocco at any time fail to control his subjects, Spain should thereupon become the paramount power within her own sphere of influence. And that, gentlemen, I am determined to do. To fail in it would be to reduce our country permanently to the status of a second-class power.'

Don Alfonso's generals heartily agreed with him and the progress of the campaign, so far, was discussed. After the meal they all adjourned to a room nearly the whole of one wall of which was covered with a great map of Morocco. There were many pins stuck in it carrying different coloured flags, indicating the position of the Spanish forces, and, as far as was known, those of the hordes of revolting tribesmen. General Linares gave an outline of the operations that were taking place and the King asked the other Generals in turn for their views. When they had given them he asked de Richleau if he had any comments and the Duke replied:

'Your Majesty must pardon me if I appear to lay undue stress on the importance of my own arm, but in campaigns of this type the value of cavalry cannot be rated too highly. The enemy is not tied to roads and railheads, he does not need great masses of transport, siege trains, field hospitals and so on to be brought up before he can fight a battle. His mobility enables him to strike with maximum force at one point and only a few days later at another a hundred or more miles away from it. Battalions of infantry can rarely move fast enough to get at him; so their use is limited to holding valuable key points such as oases and valleys through the mountains in which advancing troops might otherwise be ambushed. You might, of course, use them with advantage if you built a series of blockhouses, as Lord Kitchener did in South Africa; but short of establishing such a chain of garrisons to split up the tribes so that they can be dealt with piecemeal in each area, only a force of cavalry at least equal in size to the enemy will enable you to take the initiative and engage him at times of your own choosing until he is finally defeated.'

The Generals, knowing that de Richleau had been appointed a Chief Instructor at St. Cyr following his successes in desert warfare, listened to him with respect, and for over two hours the six men continued to discuss the finer points of the war against the hardy warriors of the Riff.

Before the party broke up the Duke managed to get a private word with Don Alfonso, and said, 'I had hoped, Sir, that you had sent for me today to tell me that you were ready to let me off my chain.'

The King smiled, but shook his head. 'No, my friend. It will be some weeks yet before I'll agree to your paying another visit to Barcelona. Please continue to amuse yourself here for a while longer.' And de Richleau felt that he had no alternative but to say that he would.

As it was a Saturday, Conde Ruiz was at the Cordoba villa for the week-end, and Gulia had arranged a dinner party for that evening, to which she had invited de Richleau. When he got back to his hotel after the long session at the Palace, he was, therefore, much surprised to find a note from her which ran:

A matter of deep concern to the family necessitates my cancelling tonight's dinner party, and for most of tomorrow I expect we shall be discussing measures that may have to be taken with regard to it. So please don't come out to the villa until bathing time on Monday morning. I look forward to seeing you then.

The Duke naturally wondered what the cause of this upset could be, and the only thing he could think of was that the Banco de Coralles might be faced with some major financial crisis. That was certainly a possibility as Spain had not yet fully recovered from the drain made on her resources by the Spanish-American war, and the great expense now entailed by the war in Morocco was already forcing down the value of the peseta.

If that was so, de Richleau thought, it was particularly unfortunate that de Cordoba was in South America and, even if recalled at once, could not be expected to arrive on the scene for at least three weeks; for Ruiz, although an intelligent man, was not a very forceful personality. It was Jose de Cordoba who really ran the great banking concern and whose brain would be needed to cope successfully with any considerable emergency.

The words 'measures to be taken' in Gulia's note seemed to imply that her husband had appointed her as one of a family committee of Trustees to handle his affairs while he was abroad and - if a financial crisis was the trouble - they might be considering selling some part of the vast family estates to bolster up the Bank's credit. The Duke could only hope for all their sakes that his speculations had no foundation, and spent his time on Sunday with other friends.

When on the Monday morning he arrived at the beach he found Gulia, the Infanta, the two duennas and two young couples who were friends of Gulia's already there, and he was relieved to see that the whole party seemed to be in good spirits. Conde Ruiz had taken the express back to Madrid that morning.

It was not until they were in the sea that de Richleau had any chance for a private word with Gulia. Then, as they were swimming side by side, he said, 'I do hope that this family trouble you mentioned in your note to me was nothing very serious, and that you have succeeded in dealing with it.'

Turning on her side she blew out a mouthful of water, then replied, T want to tell you about it, but this is no place to do so. Come back after the siesta. There will be no one else here then and we can talk. But I can't ask you to stay on to dinner.'

More mystified than ever he returned to the town for lunch, whiled away the afternoon, then went out to the villa again at five o'clock. Much to his surprise, instead of taking him through to the garden the butler showed him into the small library on the right of the hall. Gulia was sitting there doing nothing with her hands folded in her lap. There was no sign of Dona Eulalia.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, he said, 'My dear, I've been quite worried about you. What is this mystery? Is there anything I can do to help?'

Her face remained expressionless but her big dark eyes held his as she slowly shook her head. 'No, Armand. There is nothing that any of us can do. Jose is dead.'

19

When the Heart is Young

For a moment de Richleau stared at her, hardly believing that he could have heard her aright, but she nodded and repeated, 'Jose is dead. Ruiz brought me the news on Friday night. When I got your message that you were commanded to lunch at the Palace on Saturday, so would bathe from the Casino beach instead of here that morning, I was glad that I didn't have to see you then. I needed a little time to get over the shock.'

'But . . . But,' he stammered, 'why has no announcement been made? Why this morning's bathing party when the house should be in mourning? And you! Damn it, Gulia, you are dressed in pale blue!'

'Come and sit down,' she said, 'and I'll tell you about it.'

As he took a chair opposite to her, she went on, 'When Jose was out one day catching butterflies on the banks of the Amazon he was attacked by a puma and terribly mauled. With him he had only Patricio Lopex, the valet who has looked after him for years, and the Brazilian crew of the river boat he had hired for his expedition. Patricio and the natives did everything for him that they could, but before they could even get him to a township he died from his wounds. For most of the time, though, he remained conscious, and he was terribly worried about the Bank.'

Gulia paused for a moment and asked for a cigarette. The Duke gave her one and lit it. Then she resumed. 'He had devoted his life to it, and from being quite a small private concern he made it into a great one. Everyone knew that he really was the Bank - its heart and brain - and when he realized that he was dying he was worried that the news of his death might cause a run on it.'

'I can understand that,' de Richleau nodded. 'From your note I got the idea that the Bank was faced with some kind of crisis. But not, of course, the sort that Jose's death might bring about.'

'He dictated a letter to Patricio and signed it. The letter was to Ruiz and in it he said that he wished the news of his death to be suppressed for at least two months. During them Ruiz was to call in all doubtful loans and convert all speculative securities into gold. By these means, when the news of his death was eventually made public the reserves of the Bank would be so large that no run on it could possibly affect its solvency. He then swore Patricio to secrecy and gave him the money to pay off the boat's crew, with three months' wages in advance if they swore on the Cross that they would not leave their native village for that time. Patricio promised to come home in the first fast ship he could find and he arrived in Madrid on Wednesday.'

'I see,' said the Duke after a moment. 'So you are all having to continue to live as though you did not know that Jose was dead. What an extraordinary situation.'

'It is. But what else can we do? Ruiz says that but for Jose's thought for us as he lay dying, in view of the Moroccan crisis that is already rocking the financial stability of the country, the Bank might well have had to close its doors - anyhow temporarily. As it is, if the secret of Jose's death can be kept for six or eight weeks he feels no doubt about being able to face any demands when it is announced.'

'How many people are in the secret?'

'Only Patricio, Ruiz and myself; and, of course, when Ruiz next comes here you must in no circumstances let him know that I have confided our secret to you. We both promised that we would keep it absolutely to ourselves.'

'I fully understand that. But did Ruiz not even tell his wife?'

'No. Maria Alfonsine would have been safe enough in herself, but she confides everything to Dona Isabella; and she is a born gossip. Besides, it was not necessary. Ruiz had to tell me. After all, I am Jos6's widow. If he had not obtained my consent to concealing Jose's death for the time being, and carrying on, I might have made great trouble for him later.'

For a moment de Richleau was silent, then he said slowly, 'Yes, you are Jose's widow.'

She did not smile, but came abruptly to her feet. 'Yes. I am no longer Jose's wife. I am his widow. That makes a difference, doesn't it?'

At the same moment the Duke stood up. His grey eyes were shining as he exclaimed, 'By God it does!' Next second she was weeping in his arms.

Holding her close, he murmured, 'Don't cry, my love, don't cry. Naturally it has been a great shock to you, but. . .'

'It's not that,' she sobbed. 'Not his death, although ... although I hate the thought that it was . . . such a horrid one. I . . . I'm crying from happiness. Oh Armand, you can have no idea how much I love you.'

'And I you.' Turning up her face to his he kissed her tenderly on the lips. She threw an arm round his neck and pressed her mouth to his, so that the caress became fierce, passionate, long, breathless.

As their lips at last parted, he whispered, 'When, darling? When?'

'Tonight,' she whispered back. 'Out of respect for Jose I decided not to see you until this evening; but the past three days have seemed like a week.'

'Oh blessed night! How I wish I could hurry the sun in going down! But wait!' His glowing face suddenly became clouded by a frown. 'It is nearly half past five already. To return to my hotel, pack all my things and return here could not be done in less than two hours. For me to arrive out of the blue and move in just before dinner is going to look very strange to Maria Alfonsine. That is, unless you have already told her that you have invited me to stay here, and we think up some plausible excuse for my arriving at such a late hour.'

Gulia shook her head. 'I've had a lot of time to think about us over the week-end, and I decided that it would be wiser if you did not come to stay. We're going to be so happy, darling; so happy. We'd never be able to conceal it if we were together all day as well as at night. Remember, no one else here knows that I am a widow and now free to do as I like. And although Maria Alfonsine is so straight-laced, I'd hate to hurt her by giving her grounds to suspect that I was being unfaithful to Jose in his absence.'

'How shall we manage then? I could take rooms for us under a false name in some small hotel, and come out here about midnight in a carriage to fetch you.'

'No, that would be much too risky. I'm so well known in San Sebastian that any servant at an hotel might recognize me.'

'Could you creep down, then, when everyone is asleep, and let me in?'

Again she shook her head. 'That's no good either. Going to and fro from my room would mean passing that of Maria Alfonsine and I know she sleeps lightly. The boards in the corridor creak and she would be certain to hear us. We might get away with it for one night but not as a regular thing.'

'But, beloved; you said tonight, and . .

'And I mean it,' she gave a low laugh. 'As I told you, I've had lots of time to think everything out. Kiss me again, then I'll show you how we'll manage.'

After a long embrace she tidied her hair in a mirror, then led him out of the house and round to the back of the stables. Backing on to one corner of them was a large shed. As she opened its door he saw that it housed all the garden implements and on hooks along one wall there was a twelve-foot ladder. Pointing to it she said:

'All you have to do is to carry that fifty yards and set it up beneath my window. Do you remember which it is? I leant out of it that night you fought with Sanchez in the lily pool, half-crazy with fear that he had done you some serious injury.'

He smiled. 'Shall I ever forget. It's the big bay window on the left-hand side of the porch. And your plan, dearest, could not be better. At what hour am I permitted to enter Paradise?'

'I was going to the Floridablanca's party, but I've sent an excuse, and we have no one dining; so we shall go up to bed at about half past eleven. It would be best to give them an hour to settle down. To be on the safe side, say between a quarter to one and one. In order to catch you alone when you arrived I told the others that I was going indoors to write a letter. But we must join them now and pretend that we are not the happiest people in the world.'

When they reached the fountain, round which were sitting the three older ladies and two friends of the Infanta's who had been invited in for drinks, they found it far from easy to conceal their elation; and de Richleau was much relieved when he had been there long enough to take his leave without rudeness, so that he might give an undivided mind to joyful anticipation of the night to come.

Those joyful imaginings were, if possible, surpassed by the reality. De Richleau was very far from being an habitual lecher, but in everything that gave him pleasure he took pride in perfecting himself, and as an expert in the art of love he found Gulia sufficiently experienced to bring out the best in him. As a woman she was just entering her best years, as a man he had not yet left his best years behind. They were as physically perfect as two thoroughbred racehorses, and they were at last able to give free rein to their pent-up passion for one another.

At half past five in the morning, after the Duke had climbed down from her window and put away the ladder, he walked the three miles back into San Sebastian as though he were treading on air. Gulia, meanwhile, lay dozing in her big bed, her lips pressed to a handkerchief that she had exchanged with him for one of hers. She drifted off to sleep, the desperate craving she had had so long for him at last blissfully satisfied.

Right through August and well into September their delight in one another continued unabated.

Gulia's bedroom was far enough away from any other that was occupied for there to be no necessity for them to talk in whispers, and they could romp together both there and in her bathroom without any risk of being heard. Of all pastimes, too, making love is best guaranteed to beget good thirsts and hearty appetites; so from their second night together onward De Richleau brought with him bottles of champagne, fruit, caviare or foie gras and a variety of other easily portable delicacies, for which Gulia smuggled up to her room glasses and plates that she concealed during the daytime under her winter underclothes in a drawer. Over these midnight feasts they laughed, joked and teased one another with the zest of happy children until some chance word caused them suddenly to fall silent, exchange a smile of mutual understanding, and stretch out their arms to hold one another close again.

After their second night together it occurred to de Richleau that it was a stupid waste of time and effort for him to walk out to the villa each night and back from it to his hotel in the dawn;

so the next day he went off to a livery stable and hired a horse, arranging for it to be saddled and left ready for him to collect from the night watchman round about midnight. Having ridden out on it he hobbled it in the orchard that lay beyond the garden of the villa, then returned it to the livery stable in the morning. He did not doubt that the people at the livery stable had a shrewd idea of the reason for his taking these night-long rides, yet returning his mount still fresh; but they could not know the place to which he went and, as far as he and Gulia could judge, no one living in the villa had the least suspicion of their clandestine meetings.

Yet no affaire ever stands still, and while on neither side was there the least sign of their passion cooling, there soon appeared a subtle change in their relationship to those about them. For the first few days, still having in the forefront of their minds the reason why Gulia had decided against having her lover to live in the house, they maintained an exemplary discretion. But before a week was out they found that it was not enough to spend five or six hours together each night then, perhaps, to see one another only for a morning bathe during the daytime and, if either of them went to an evening party without the other, to have to cut down the time they could give to their secret revels during the hours of darkness.

In consequence, almost imperceptibly they became indifferent to opinion. Both began to refuse invitations to parties to which the other was not invited. If they were not lunching out at the same place it became accepted that de Richleau should stay on after the morning swim and lunch at the villa. As well as bathing from its beach every morning he came out to swim with Gulia again every evening. They could not see enough of one another; they became almost inseparable.

From time to time the Duke was troubled by the thought that their being so constantly together must be giving rise to scandal. That the Infanta was showing her disapproval by an increasing coldness towards him he found distressing because he liked de Venddme's kindly if somewhat domineering mother; yet he did not greatly mind because he knew that in a few weeks' time she would learn of de Cordoba's death, and when told that Gulia had known of it from early in August would realize that she could not be so greatly blamed for permitting such marked attentions from a gallant. But that Gulia should become talked about among her acquaintances he minded very much, and now and then he endeavoured to persuade her that in the daytime they ought not to be seen about together quite so frequently.

He might have saved his breath for she would not listen to him. In vain he argued that no limit of time was set upon their happiness, and that when she returned to Madrid there was no reason why he should not also go to live in the capital. She replied that there it would not be possible to set a ladder up against her bedroom window, and there would be no bathing or tennis parties; so it would be much more difficult for them to be together frequently, therefore they must make the very utmost of the present.

It was during one of these discussions that, for the only time, they touched on the subject of marriage. Angela had, for him, been the perfect wife, and his memories of her made him wonder if Gulia, who had such an utterly different personality, could bring him the same contentment. Yet, on the other hand, he realized that if he did mean to marry again he might never find another woman who combined such a wealth of attractions, and she left nothing undone to show that she adored him. So without actually proposing he had asked her if she liked the idea of retaining her freedom as a rich widow or would prefer to settle down and have children.

She had taken the question as he meant it - as a feeler about themselves - but had shrugged it off with a laugh, declaring that, delighted as she was to think that he might be contemplating making her his Duchess, nothing could be done about it until Jose's death had been publicly announced, and it would be time enough then for her to decide if she would risk her figure in order to present him with a little Count de Quesnoy.

In the meantime she continued to insist that they should grasp their present happiness with both hands, regardless of what people might be saying about them; and, taking consolation from the thought that the announcement in the autumn of de Cordoba's death would do much to restore her reputation, he gave way to her.

That people were talking about them was made very evident to him one night towards the end of August when they were both bidden again to dine at the Palace. For a few minutes after dinner he was alone with Don Alfonso, who asked him, 'Are you still as eager as ever to go hunting that wretch Ferrer in Barcelona?'

In view of the wonderful time the Duke was having with Gulia, he was now by no means anxious to leave San Sebastian, and he wished that he had never heard of Ferrer. But he felt in duty bound to reply:

'Indeed I am, Sir.'

The King cocked an amused eyebrow. 'You surprise me, Duke. They tell me that you are far more successful in hunting butterflies than is poor de Cordoba on his expedition up the Amazon. Or at least that you have captured such a beautiful one that you are the envy of every naturalist in San Sebastian.'

De Richleau felt his colour rising, but he bowed and said, 'I fear I am but a poor naturalist, Sir. I have a rooted objection to sticking pins into such lovely creatures; so I am doing no more than provide a most delightful specimen with lettuce leaves until de Cordoba returns and can claim it.'

'Dear me. Then you are not the man I thought you,' smiled the King. 'And you shall go'to Barcelona. But still not for another week or two. The city has not settled down sufficiently for me to allow you yet to risk your neck in it.'

It was on the 6th of September that de Richleau next talked with Don Alfonso, having been summoned to wait upon him at the Palace at nine-thirty in the morning. After receiving the Duke in his working room, the King sat back at his desk and, without preamble, said in a business-like way:

'The time has come for you to attempt to run Ferrer to earth and, if you can catch him, render me another considerable service. La Cierva tells me that Barcelona is now quiet. In fact, owing to the many arrests that have taken place and the repressive measures that were rendered necessary by the revolt, it is quieter than it has been for a long time. Only one thing still troubles him: that is the police. I suppose you could not manage without police assistance?'

The Duke shook his head. 'No, Sir. This mission will be very different from that which I undertook three years ago. Then, being totally unknown in Spanish anarchist circles I was able to pose as a political refugee from Russia and get in among them. To attempt to do so again is out of the question. This time my intention is to play the part of a police agent and either bribe or threaten all those I can find who knew Ferrer until one of them cracks and gives me a line on his whereabouts. To do that I must be in possession of police papers, and have the authority to call on the police to pull in anyone I wish for questioning.'

'Yes, I thought that would be the case.' Don Alfonso fiddled with a pencil. 'I asked only because we know that the Barcelona police are not one hundred per cent to be relied upon. Nearly all Catalans of whatever class are Separatists and many are imbued with the principles of anarchism. Had that not been so we could have put an end to the epidemic of bomb outrages there long ago. La Cierva is now carrying out a very thorough investigation into the police organization with a view drastically to reforming it;

but to purge it entirely of its doubtful elements is bound to take time. I mention this only because I think it would be unwise for you to rely too much on police co-operation. They will, of course, all do ostensibly as they are ordered, and the majority are loyal to the Government; but here and there you may find a man who will turn a blind eye to your requirements at a critical moment.'

T understand, Sir, and will watch out for that sort of thing.'

Producing a letter from a drawer in his desk, the King passed it over, and went on. 'This you are to hand to General Quiroga. You are to live with him in the fortress of Montjuich. He will introduce you to the Chief-of-Police, who will give you all the assistance you may require from him. He will also provide you with a detective who will act as your bodyguard and constant companion. In no circumstances are you to leave the fortress without him. Is that understood?'

De Richleau gave a rueful smile. 'I cannot help regarding with regret these restrictions Your Majesty is placing on my liberty; but I have no alternative other than to bow to your wishes.'

The King stood up. 'I have insisted on them only because I refuse to allow a valued friend to jeopardize his life further than is strictly necessary. Besides,' he added with a sudden boyish smile, 'think how angry your beautiful butterfly would be with me if, knowing that you had undertaken a mission in my service, she was permanently deprived of her supply of lettuce.'

The Duke smiled back. 'I will inform her, Sir, of your gracious concern for her welfare.'

An hour and a half later, while swimming with Gulia in the bay, de Richleau broke the news to her of his impending departure. As there were other people nearby, for the time being she gamely concealed her distress, but that night, when he joined her in her bedroom, she gave way to it. Impartially she cursed Ferrer and the King for being the cause of her lover leaving her, and pleaded with him to put off this mission to Barcelona at least until the end of the month, when she would be returning to Madrid.

He agreed that it was hard that they should have to sacrifice a part, and perhaps all, of the precious time that remained to them in San Sebastian, where they were able to spend most of each night together with little risk of discovery; but he told her that in his interview that morning with Don Alfonso he had received what amounted to orders that could not be disregarded. He could only promise that he would work night and day to lay Ferrer speedily by the heels so that he might not lose a moment in getting back to her.

death claims three more

It proved a night in which tears were mingled with passion, and in a final effort to console her he remained with her longer than he had ever done before. He left her only when, from fear of discovery by the waking servants, it became dangerous to stay longer. Even then he had to break the clasp of her arms from about his neck and put her from him still weeping bitterly.

Much shaken by this emotional parting, he found it a relief to steal through the dawn-lit garden to the orchard. He was always a little anxious that he might find that some prowler had stolen his mount in the night, but he found the horse quietly grazing as usual.

Half an hour later he was back at his hotel and, as he had packed the previous evening, soon after eight he was on his way to Barcelona. He realized that by now Ferrer might well have taken refuge over the frontier. But if that vile poisoner of minds was still in Catalonia, de Richleau had determined that he would not rest content until he looked down on his dead body.

20

Death Claims Three More

When de Richleau arrived in Barcelona the following afternoon he was met at the station by one of the Captain-General's A.D.C.s and taken by him straight out to the grim old fortress of Montjuich. As he shook hands with Quiroga in his office he thought that the past three years, in which the General had been in constant danger of his life, seemed to have had remarkably little effect upon him. He was still the same square, red-faced forceful man with a cheerful decisive manner. When the Duke congratulated him on still being alive, he said with a laugh:

'They may get me yet; but they'll have to show more originality than they have in the past. Nearly all their attempts run to a pattern: some miserable youth lurking in the crowd with a pistol or a bomb. But nine times out of ten their nerves betray them. I'm too old a hand to leave my quarters here except when I have to on official occasions, and then I always go surrounded by a bodyguard with loaded carbines at the ready. My fellows are crack shots and specially trained to spot fanatics intending mischief. Before they can aim or have a chance to throw anything they get a bullet through the head. The tragedy is that we can't possibly manage to give that sort of protection to all our people, and those poisonous vermin have murdered scores of good, honest officials here since last we met.'

265

De Richleau handed over the King's letter. The General read it through, nodded, and said, 'This confirms the instructions I have already received from His Majesty. Naturally I shall be delighted to have you as my personal guest, and this morning I spoke to Comandante Urgoiti about you. He is the head of the Security Bureau, and will supply the man who is to accompany you on your investigations. I will have them both up here tomorrow morning.'

'If you could arrange for me to meet them this evening I would be grateful,' replied the Duke, 'because I would like to start on my job as soon as possible.'

'Just as you wish.' Quiroga glanced at his watch. 'It is not yet six o'clock; so I will have Urgoiti here between seven and seven-thirty. If you will come with me now, I will show you your quarters.'

'Thank you. There is just one other point. For the purposes of this investigation I feel it would be best to drop my title and call myself by some simple name. I thought of Carlos Goma.'

The General nodded. 'I think that's wise, and Carlos Goma would do very well.'

As they left the General's office and crossed a big interior courtyard, de Richleau asked, 'What do you think my chances are of running Ferrer to earth?'

The General shrugged. 'You should be a better judge of that than I. His Majesty informed me in his letter that you have lines of inquiry that the police are unlikely yet to have tried. I know no more than that.'

'I have. What I really meant to ask was, do you think it likely that Ferrer is still in Barcelona?'

'I would say the odds are that he is; or if not in the city, not far from it. You see, here he is accounted a hero, not only by his fanatical followers but also by thousands of misguided people; so he can move from one to another of scores of different hiding places without much fear of being betrayed. And that does not apply to any other part of Spain.'

'My fear was that after the suppression of the riots he might have fled over the border into France.'

'No; the chances are a hundred to one against him having succeeded in doing that. On the last day of the revolt he was known to be still in the city. Several of our prisoners who have turned King's Evidence have sworn to that and, if you can catch him, are prepared to swear at his trial that he was one of the principal instigators of the outbreak. And on the first day of the riots I closed the frontier. I did more. Within twenty-four hours I had replaced all Catalan frontier police, Guardia Civil and port police by non-Catalans on whose loyalty I could depend. We issued to them hundreds of photographs and descriptions of Ferrer and half a dozen other ringleaders. Three of them were caught, and I don't believe for a moment that any of the others slipped through. The frontier has remained closed ever since, and only people with special papers are allowed to cross it.'

That is excellent news,' smiled the Duke. Tt makes my chances of ferreting him out look better than I had hoped.'

By then they had reached the Captain-General's residence, which consisted of a fine old mansion forming one side of the courtyard. Quiroga showed him first a pleasant sitting-room where he could make himself comfortable until Comandante Urgoiti arrived, then took him up to a bedroom that had been prepared for him. A soldier servant was already unpacking his luggage, and the General left him there to have a wash after his journey.

When he came downstairs to the sitting-room he found there a plump but pretty girl of about seventeen, who introduced herself as Mercedes, the General's daughter. She was busily engaged stitching some gold thread on to a canvas-backed piece of blue velvet, and after some small-talk the Duke asked her what she was making.

With a shy smile, she replied, They are to be a pair of bedroom slippers with gold monograms on the toes. I'm making them as a New Year's present. Of course it's a long time yet to the New Year, but I don't work very fast so I thought it just as well to begin early.'

T suppose they are for your father,' smiled the Duke. Tm sure he will be delighted with them.'

She blushed and shook her head. Then, after a little gentle twitting by him, she confided, They are for Captain Juan Escalante. He . . . well, he's not exactly my fiancS, because my parents say I am too young to marry yet. But we are hoping that they will let us get engaged in the New Year.'

T wish you luck then,' smiled the Duke. 'What branch of the service is your friend in?'

'He is a cavalryman, and he has much the smartest troop in his regiment, the 5th Hussars.'

'Is he?' said de Richleau with renewed interest. 'Although I am wearing civilian clothes, I am a cavalryman too.'

Having found a topic of mutual interest they talked on for half an hour, then an orderly arrived with the request that the Duke would accompany him to the General's office.

Over there Quiroga introduced him to Comandante Urgoiti, a short, paunchy, bald man and to Senor Veragua a tall young fellow who had a brown moustache and beard. The Duke had a vague feeling that he had seen the latter somewhere before and was about to question him when he said:

'If your name were not Goma, senor, I could have sworn that you were a Russian refugee that I knew slightly some years ago. I forget his name but he used to frequent the branch of the Somaten to which I belong.'

De Richleau smiled. 'You are right. During the summer of 1906 I lived for some six weeks here in Barcelona, and I often spent an evening at the Somaten Club down by the harbour.' In pursuance of his policy to conceal as far as possible his true identity, de Richleau refrained from mentioning the secret mission he had then been engaged upon, and its having resulted in the closing of the Escuela Moderna. Instead, he added, 'I am surprised, though, that you, as a member of the police force, should still belong to the Somaten. I was given to understand that during the recent revolt it supported the rioters.'

Veragua shook his head. 'It is true that certain Communist elements had worked their way into the Somaten, and got themselves elected as officials at some of its branches. In those where they had secured enough authority they used it to push the members into rash actions; but the majority were against them and after a few days they were thrown out. The Somaten has since been thoroughly purged, and for some while has resumed its ancient function.'

The General nodded. 'Yes, indeed. After the fighting had ceased, the Somaten was of the greatest value in supplying squads of vigilantes to help us restore law and order. They are, of course, all Catalan Separatists; but that is a different matter, as there is nothing illegal about holding such views.'

Urgoiti said that if the Duke would call at Police Headquarters the following morning he would furnish him with a police card, which would enable him to arrest anyone on suspicion or call for help on uniformed men, then proceeded to question him about his plan of campaign. But, bearing in mind Don Alfonso's warning, de Richleau did not mean to risk any leaks through junior detectives to whom the Comandante might mention his activities; so he politely replied that to start with he meant only to make a general reconnaissance.

It was arranged that Veragua should report to 'Senor Goma' at eight o'clock the following morning, and the two detectives took their leave. When they had gone Quiroga unlocked a steel cabinet and took from it one of a number of pistols, with a box of ammunition, and said:

'You had better carry this. It may come in useful.'

De Richleau had brought his own revolver, but the weapon the General handed him was one of the new German automatics. It carried eight instead of six bullets and, being flat, was easier to conceal about the person than the old-fashioned pistol with its revolving magazine. Having examined its mechanism with interest, he thanked Quiroga, and they then crossed the courtyard to the residential quarters.

When the Duke had changed he came down to the drawing-room and was presented to the Senora Quiroga. She was considerably younger than her husband and an elegant woman, who obviously had social ambitions; for she remarked with a laugh that had an underlying note of bitterness that, great as was the honour of being one of the three Captains-General who commanded the forces in Spain's three largest cities, for all the pleasure her husband and his family got out of it they might as well be castaways on an island inhabited by hostile savages. And she did not seek to hide her delight at having as her guest a Grandee of Spain who was on terms of friendship with the King.

They dined en famille, the Senorita Mercedes making a silent fourth. During the meal the Senora pressed de Richleau to tell her all the latest gossip of San Sebastian, dragging in at every opportunity the names of noble families with whom she was acquainted. The Duke politely obliged, but he felt sorry for the girl, as it was clear to him that her mother would consent to her marrying nothing less than a Marquis; so she had little chance of fulfilling her romance with the handsome Captain Juan Escalante.

After the ladies had left the table de Richleau did not see them again that night. He and Quiroga sat over their wine for upward of two hours, while the General gave an interesting account of the revolt and they had a long discussion about anarchists.

In the morning de Richleau dressed himself in a ready-made suit that he had bought on his last afternoon in San Sebastian, then walked across to the General's office. The tall, bearded Veragua reported there promptly at eight o'clock, and the Duke was somewhat surprised to find that he had arrived in an automobile. In 1906, when de Richleau had learned to drive de Vendome's Hispano Suiza, motor-cars had still been a wonder for crowds to gape at. On his return to Spain he had noticed that many rich people in

San Sebastian now owned them, but for them to be used by the police seemed quite an innovation.

Veragua told him that the Security Bureau kept a dozen machines at the disposal of its officers and, as he had learned to drive one, he had felt that they might get from place to place at which 'Senor Goma' wished to question people quicker than by any other means.

De Richleau was pleased that his tall young assistant should have shown such initiative, and they set off down the hill into the city to Police Headquarters. There, from the bald-headed Coman-dante, the Duke received his warrant, then they started on a long round of visits.

As a first bet de Richleau went to the apartment in which the Luques had entertained him to dinner, for it was Doctor Luque who had introduced him to Ferrer. But he learned from the porter of the block that some fifteen months earlier the Luques had left for Cartagena, where they had relatives, and that the Doctor had bought a practice there.

They then went to the Cafe Ronda, at which Dr. Luque had introduced de Richleau to Ferrer; but the proprietor said that he had not seen Ferrer since the revolt and had no idea where he had got to. Throughout the morning and, ignoring the siesta hours, all through the afternoon, they drove to one place after another at which the Duke hoped that he might pick up some trace of his quarry. These were shops that de Richleau knew to have supplied Ferrer with books, others that had supplied the Escuela Moderna with food, restaurants at which he and members of his staff had dined, and cafes they had frequented.

In the majority of cases, in order to avoid its being realized that he was connected with the police, de Richleau left Veragua and the car fifty yards away down the street. Sometimes he announced himself as Senor Carlos Goma, an old friend of Ferrer's, and furtively inquired his whereabouts; at others he resumed his identity of Nicolai Chirikov, once a master at the Escuela Moderna, who, after a long absence from Barcelona, wanted to be put in touch again with the Chief whom he had found such an interesting personality. Occasionally, with those whom he suspected knew something but would not talk, he produced his police pass and threatened them with incarceration in the fortress of Montjuich. But his efforts were of no avail.

Throughout the whole day he drew nothing but blanks and returned a little before eight o'clock in the evening, tired out and cursing the fact that he must again over dinner be subjected to the Senora Quiroga's insatiable appetite for gossip about the Court.

Next day he continued his investigation, mainly on scraps of information he had extracted from various sources. He called on Ferrer's tailor, barber, dentist and a number of his ex-pupils, but neither cajolery nor threats produced any result.

It was not until after he had given Veragua lunch at a small fish restaurant that he remembered the foreman miller's daughter. Thinking again of that fateful night on which Sanchez had first wished to slit his throat, then burn him in a furnace, he recalled Dolores Mendoza saying with a sneer that as Ferrer had gone out to the mill for a conference he would certainly not return until morning, as he 'never missed a chance of a tumble with that hot little piece Teresa Conesa'.

De Richleau had never had an opportunity to learn exactly where the mill was situated, so he had Veragua drive him out to the hospital to which he had been taken. At his request a secretary in the office there turned up the entry recording the admission of himself and Pedro Conesa and from that he got the address of the mill at which they had received their injuries.

It was some way inland on the south-west outskirts of the city and they drove to it. Leaving Veragua outside, de Richleau crossed the yard to the foreman's little house. As he did so he cast a glance at the tall, square stack of the mill building that had such terrifying memories for him; then he rang the bell of the door through which he had been carried rolled up in a carpet.

It was opened by a buxom woman. Her husband proved to be the third successor to Conesa, but as he had been employed at the mill for the past ten years they had known Pedro and his daughter well. The woman said that for the best part of two years the girl had been married. She was now a Senora Irujo and lived in a village about two miles further out.

Having obtained a description of her cottage de Richleau walked back to the car and told his eager young assistant that he thought they really might have got on to something at last, as he had succeeded in tracing one of Ferrer's ex-mistresses, who was much more likely to know what had become of him than any shopkeeper or cafe proprietor. When they reached the village he followed his usual practice of leaving Veragua with the car about fifty yards short of their destination and proceeded to it on foot.

He found Teresa at home. She was a sluttish-looking young woman with a heavy jowl and strong hips, but fine eyes and a good figure. At the moment he arrived at the open doorway of her cottage she was busy in the kitchen cooking a conserve of melons. Fearful that it might boil over if neglected, without even inquiring his business she threw open the door of a frowsty sitting-room and asked him to wait.

Six or seven minutes later she joined him, carrying an infant on her arm; a toddler clutched at her skirt, and a wide-eyed thumb-sucker of about two-and-a-half pattered in after her.

As she had never seen de Richleau she had no idea that it was he who, by a judo grip, had brought about her father's death. In case the name of Chirikov might ring a bell with her, he presented himself as Carlos Goma, an old friend of her father's who had recently returned from four years in the United States.

He said that the woman who now lived in the foreman's house at the mill had told him of Pedro's death and he had been greatly distressed to hear of it. Then he went on to speak of those exciting days when he had formed one of the group that had planned the bomb-throwings, making casual mention of the bald-headed Manuel, young Alvaro Barbestro, the Ferrer brothers, Mateo Morral, Dolores Mendoza and the German, Schmidt.

At first she regarded him with obvious suspicion, but he talked with such intimate knowledge of her father's friends that after a little she thawed out. She told him that in the summer of 1906 the group had been betrayed by a French spy, which had resulted in the Escuela Moderna being raided and closed, and that for a year the activities of the group had been brought almost to a standstill through most of them being in prison. She added that Barbestro had been shot for an attempt on General Quiroga and Sanchez Ferrer killed in a brawl in Cadiz.

He then asked her about the recent revolt. She described some fights that had taken place locally and the brutality with which the soldiers had treated the workers after they had forced the barricades. Several of her friends had been killed or wounded, and her husband had been among the latter, although fortunately the bullet that hit him had only taken off the lobe of his left ear. She added that, what with the fighting and the arrests that had taken place after it, the ranks of the anarchists had been sadly thinned, and those who had escaped were now all in hiding.

Having deplored this sad state of things, he remarked what hard luck it was on him that the revolt should have taken place only a few weeks before his return, and so deprived him of the chance to renew his old friendships; then he said in his most winning tone:

'But perhaps you could put me in touch with some of them, or know people who could. How about Benigno Ferrer? I hope he is all right. He was a particular friend of mine.'

She shook her head. 'I've no idea where Benigno is; but he wasn't killed or captured in the revolt. I believe that during it he was somewhere abroad.'

'His father then? I take it Senor Ferrer is still safe. He is so well known that had ill befallen him it's certain that I should have seen it in the papers, or anyhow have heard about it from someone.'

'No; Francisco's all right. It was him really who I knew better than any of them. Of course he was much older than me; but as a matter of fact we were great friends.'

De Richleau gave her a slightly doubting smile and said, 'I suppose anything is possible for such a good-looking girl as you. But do you really mean to tell me that you succeeded in securing as an admirer such a famous intellectual as Francisco Ferrer?'

She bridled with pleasure and pointed to the thumb-sucker who was standing in the doorway. 'If you really want to know, I had little Francisco, there, by him. These other two are Irujo's; but I only married him really to give my eldest a father.'

'I hope he makes the boy a good one.'

'Might be worse, I suppose.' She made a grimace. 'It's only when he's had a skinful of wine that he gets jealous and would ill-treat the kid if I didn't watch out. Otherwise he just ignores him and is glad enough to pocket the money Ferrer sends me for the boy's keep.'

'Ferrer does the decent thing by you, then. Does he ever come to see you and little Francisco?'

'Oh yes. Ferrer's fond of children, and after he got his school going again he used to look in fairly regularly. He hasn't been here since the revolt, though.'

'I hope he sends you your money just the same.'

'Yes. That Mendoza woman you were talking about a while back brings it. He's living with her now.'

'Since you know where they are I'd be awfully grateful if you'd give me their address, so that I can look them up.'

De Richleau had made his request sound as casual as he could, and to conceal the intense excitement with which he awaited her answer he glanced away from her towards the baby she was holding. When her reply came it was disappointing. After hesitating a moment, she said:

'No; I couldn't do that. You see, I don't really know anything about you, do I? And there's a big reward for his capture. For all I know you might be trying to earn it, or even be one of the police.'

He knew that if she would not talk he had only to arrest her and turn her over to Urgoiti. Quiroga had told him that under the fortress of Montjuich there were dungeons that had been handed over to the secret police in which they held and questioned political prisoners. He had a pretty shrewd idea that the methods used were not far short of the tortures inflicted in those same dungeons during the Middle Ages. Without a doubt they would get out of her the information he was so anxious to obtain; but he thought her a very decent woman and was most loath to bring such a fate upon her.

Deciding to try further persuasion, he laughed and said, 'Oh come, now! You're talking nonsense. I . . S

At that moment a window pane shattered. He was standing sideways on to it with his back to the open doorway. As the glass tinkled down he glimpsed a black object, about the size of a cricket ball, spinning down into the room. Instantly, he flung himself backwards.

Next second there came the crash of an explosion. A bright orange flash lit the dingy little room. Teresa gave a piercing scream. Dense black smoke billowed up from the floor swiftly spreading and obscuring the scene.

De Richleau's backward plunge had sent little Francisco spinning. The boy burst into howls. Ignoring him the Duke picked himself up and, unhurt except for bruising one elbow, plunged back into the smoke-filled room. Teresa had dropped her baby and collapsed groaning across a small stiff-backed settee. Her skirt was on fire. Snatching up a cushion de Richleau beat out the flames with it, then got his arms beneath her and carried her across the passage to the kitchen. As he did so, through the murk he glimpsed other flames and realized that some of the lighter furniture must have also caught fire from the explosion.

By that time several women neighbours and Veragua had rushed into the cottage. Still choking from the fumes, the Duke shouted to them to get the children and to him to take charge and put out the fire. Meanwhile he had laid Teresa on the floor and, with the swift practised fingers of one who has tended many wounded on battle-fields, was assessing her injuries.

The bomb must have exploded on her right almost at her feet. On that side only charred and tattered remnants of her skirt and petticoats remained, exposing her legs to the thigh. The right one was hopelessly shattered, the left one was also scorched and bleeding. Grabbing a kitchen knife he slit the leather belt she was wearing, then tore open her corset. As he had feared, several bomb splinters had lodged in her right hip and that side of her stomach. Springing up he seized a towel to staunch the blood that was seeping from the wounds.

At that moment a wild-eyed woman burst into the kitchen.

In her arms she was carrying the limp form of Teresa's second child. Hysterically she shouted, The poor mite's dead! She's dead! And so's the baby. Oh, Holy Saints defend us!' Then at the sight of Teresa half naked and bleeding on the floor she uttered another wail, turned, and ran from the room.

After her first screams Teresa had uttered only a low moaning, then fallen silent. De Richleau thought she had fainted, but at the shouts of her neighbour she opened her eyes. As he again knelt beside her she asked in a hoarse whisper, 'Francisco. Is he ... Is he . . .?'

A sweat had broken out on her forehead and the Duke knew that she had not long to live. Kneeling beside her he said gently, 'He is safe, Teresa. As with myself the angle of the wall saved him from injury. But you, Teresa. You have not long and you must think of his future.'

He had her head pillowed on his arm and she nodded weakly. 'Yes ... I don't want to die . . . I'm afraid to die . . . But the pain inside me ... I... I know I'm finished.'

'You cannot leave the boy to Irujo. Not if Irujo would be unkind to him. Let me take him to Ferrer for you. Ferrer loves him and will see to it that he is given a happy home. But you must tell me where to find Ferrer.'

The sweat was running down her face and she was breathing fast. 'San Cugat,' she panted. 'He now ... calls himself... Olozaga.'

The Duke nodded, then he said earnestly, 'Listen, Teresa. Your father was an anarchist. I expect he brought you up as an atheist and it is generally those who have always said that they do not believe in God who fear most to die. But you have nothing to fear. I promise you that. I'm afraid there is not the time to bring a priest to you; but if you simply say, "Please God, for Jesus Christ's sake, forgive me my sins," that will be enough.'

Her eyes brightened a little. She clutched at his free hand and slowly panted out the words after him. A few minutes later a spasm shook her, then her head rolled sideways and she was dead.

Lowering her head to the floor he put the towel over her face and stood up. According to his own beliefs no deathbed repentance could be of the slightest value. It was not logical that a person who had been mean, cruel and unscrupulous could, by muttering a few words, with or without the assistance of a priest, have the bill receipted for all the suffering they had caused in their lives. Teresa, like everyone else, would have to pay off such ill that she might have done to others, and her untimely, painful death would be only something on account. But, as he washed her blood from his hands at the kitchen sink, he knew that he had at least been right in telling her that she had nothing to fear, and he was glad that he had been able to give her in her last moments the conventional comfort without which a woman of her class might have died in terror.

He was far less happy about having used the fact that she was dying to extract from her Ferrer's whereabouts. But on that score he comforted himself with the thought that if there were not men like Ferrer no bomb would have come through the window to destroy her and her two little children.

As he finished washing, Veragua came in to report that the fire in the sitting-room was out. He was followed by a local policeman, notebook in hand, who had just arrived on the scene and was taking down particulars of the tragedy. De Richleau produced his police-card, made a statement, and said that he intended to take the surviving child away with him. He then collected the still weeping little Francisco, left the policeman in charge, and with Veragua walked along the street to their car.

On the way Veragua congratulated him in the heartiest manner on his narrow escape, and remarked that it had been good luck for him too, as he would have got into frightful trouble if de Richleau had been injured, since he would have failed in his duty as a bodyguard. They then speculated on how any anarchist could have been on hand to throw a bomb and so cut short the questioning of Teresa Irujo. As no one could have known of the Duke's intention to meet her, they decided that the only explanation must be that the enemy had learnt about 'Senor Goma's' investigation and had been stalking him all day, waiting for a suitable opportunity to throw the bomb, and that only chance had led to the attempt to murder him being made while he was in Teresa's cottage.

As they were driving down the hill Veragua asked if the Duke had managed to get anything out of Teresa during his long talk with her. To which he replied:

'One line that may be worth following. But this affair has been pretty shattering to the nerves, so I think we will take it easy for what remains of the afternoon. You can collect me again from the fortress at nine o'clock. That should give me just time to have a quick dinner.'

Since de Richleau was entirely lacking in nerves of that kind, he was prevaricating. But he had decided not to make his attempt to catch Ferrer until night had fallen and, in the meantime, he had no intention of letting even Veragua know the high hopes he now had for that evening.

When they arrived at Montjuich he carried little Francisco into the Captain-General's residence and gave him temporarily into the charge of one of the woman servants. Then he went upstairs and lay down on his bed.

At seven o'clock he came down to the drawing-room to find Mercedes there alone stitching away at her bedroom slippers. It then occurred to him that she would make a much more responsible protectress for his small thumb-sucker than would her socially-obsessed mother. So he told her Teresa's story and about the tragedy that had occurred that afternoon, and asked if she could find a suitable family among* the married N.C.O.s of the garrison in which the boy could be boarded and brought up; adding that he would make over to her a capital sum sufficient to provide a small income for the child's keep.

Mercedes listened with wide eyes, then willingly agreed to his request. Little Francisco was produced from the servants' quarters, his cheerfulness now restored from having been regaled with a surfeit of sugar plums, and Mercedes, delighted with her new charge, carried him off to make arrangements for him to be bathed and put to bed.

De Richleau then telephoned Urgoiti and asked how late he would be remaining at his office, adding that he hoped to bring in a very special prisoner round about eleven o'clock. The Coman-dante replied that he had plenty of work to occupy him, so he would return to his office after dinner and remain there till midnight.

When the General and his wife came in the Duke again gave the story of the attempt that had been made upon his life that afternoon, and praised their daughter for the willingness she had shown to take charge of the little orphan. He then asked to be excused from changing for dinner, as he had to go out again at nine o'clock, and for the loan of a key to the house as he might not get back until very late. Quiroga provided the key and his wife had dinner put forward by half an hour; so when Veragua arrived in the motor to collect de Richleau they were able to set off without delay.

The village of San Cugat de Valles lay about seven miles to the north of Barcelona behind the great mountain of Tibidabo. As they had to drive right through the city it was nearly half past nine when they reached it. De Richleau had contemplated a much later raid, with the idea of catching Ferrer in bed. But he had still to find out where the 'Senor Olozaga' lived, and to have made inquiries in the village at a late hour of the night might have resulted in Ferrer's being sent a warning that somebody was after him.

Having halted Veragua well before they came to the village square, the Duke left the car and continued on foot. There was only one cafe there, and it was somewhat dimly lit, with only a few people sitting at its tables. Seating himself at a vacant one, he ordered a Fundador with water. When the waiter brought it the Duke said casually that he had recently made a contact in San Cugat which would bring him out there on business fairly frequently, and he had been told that some old friends of his named Olozaga had moved into the neighbourhood. Perhaps the waiter could tell him whereabouts they lived, then next time he came out he would look them up.

The waiter replied that a couple of that name lived in a small villa out on the road to Sabadell. It was on the left and easy to recognize as it had a little turret; but they kept themselves very much to themselves and came into the village only to do their shopping.

De Richleau tipped the man, but not too lavishly, took plenty of time about finishing his brandy, then rejoined Veragua. They drove out along the Sabadell road until they sighted the villa with a turret, then backed the car up a side turning on to a patch of grass and left it.

Only then did the Duke tell his eager young companion that he had reason to believe that Ferrer was living in the villa. Walking forward, they reconnoitred it. There was no other building within five hundred yards. On either side of its porch it had a bay window. In that on the right a light showed through drawn curtains. The rest of the house was in darkness.

To his companion de Richleau said in a low voice, 'Either at the back, or more probably at one side, there will be a kitchen entrance. I want you to find and cover it. Should anyone come out, hold them up. If they refuse to surrender or attempt to run for it you are to shoot them down without further warning. For that I accept full responsibility. I'll give you ten minutes to take up your station, then I am going in.'

With a happy grin Veragua produced his automatic, snapped its breech back and forth to make sure that it was in perfect working order, then moved off into the semi-darkness.

Ten minutes can be a very long time when waiting to go into action. More than once de Richleau gave an impatient look at his wrist-watch. Now and again, too, he gave an uneasy glance up and down the road. In spite of the precautions he had taken to keep his investigation secret, the many inquiries he had made about Ferrer must inevitably have led to the anarchists learning about his activities, and the attempt on his life that had been made that afternoon led him to believe that they were doing their utmost to keep constant track of his movements.

But the country road was deserted. No movement of shadow suggested a lurking figure in the hedgerows. At last the ten minutes were up. The villa was some way from the road. With an even step he advanced up the fifty-yard-long garden path and pressed the front door bell.

He stood there, his heart pounding in his chest at the thought of the encounter to come. The peal of the bell shrilled through the silent house, but no one came to answer it. Holding his breath, he listened intently. Muffled sounds of movement came faintly from inside the villa. With a grim smile he rang again.

Still no one came, and he could no longer hear sounds from within. He rang a third time, keeping his finger pressed on the bell push for a full half minute. Footsteps sounded on the far side of the door. There came the noise of bolts being shot back then the door opened a few inches and a female face peered out at him.

With a swift thrust of his knee and shoulder he forced the door further open. Then he jabbed the muzzle of his pistol into the woman's stomach and said:

'Open your mouth and I'll fill you full of lead.'

She gave a gasp and stood back. In the dim light from the single lamp in the hall he now saw that she was his old acquaintance, Dolores Mendoza. Recognizing her brought him a new elation. It meant that Teresa's information had been up-to-date, and that it was unlikely now that he had come out there on a wild goose chase only to find that his quarry had moved on to another hiding place.

Forcing Dolores back a few paces he closed the door, felt behind him with his free hand till he found the key, turned it in the lock, pulled it out and pocketed it. Then he asked Dolores, 'Where is the lavatory?'

Giving him a surprised look, she made a gesture towards the end of the passage. So far it seemed that, after the lapse of years, she had not recognized him. Under the threat of the pistol she obediently turned and led the way down the narrow hall. At its end there was a door in front of which she halted.

'Open it and go inside,' he ordered her. She did as she was bid. He saw that it had a window through which she might squeeze herself. But, even if she did, the villa was so far out in the country that there seemed no possibility of her bringing help on the scene before he had accomplished what he had come to do.

Under the brighter light of the oil lamp burning there his features stood out more clearly. Suddenly her pale blue eyes widened, and she exclaimed, 'Chirikov! No; the French spy - de Quesnoy.'

He nodded. Returning her angry stare with a calm scrutiny he saw that her sallow face had grown much older; but that was not to be wondered at as she had spent a year in the dungeons of Montjuich. With an ironical bow, he remarked:

'I recall that we once talked of spending a week-end together on the Costa Brava. As I would cheerfully have murdered you rather than make love to you, you may consider yourself lucky that you have had three more years of life than you deserve. Sit down now and remain quiet. If you start shouting I shall come back and you will die in this place so well suited to the life you have led.'

Taking the key from the inside of the door he transferred it to the outside, shut the door and locked her in. With his pistol at the ready, he opened and threw back the door on the right-hand side of the passage. No sound broke the stillness indicating any reaction to his swift movement. Having listened intently for a moment he stepped inside.

The room was square and evidently used as a study. Opposite the door there was a large desk. As he stood there, facing him on its front was a solid row of thick reference books, and to its right there was a standard lamp that lit it, making a pool of brightness in the otherwise dim room.

De Richleau had little doubt that up to ten minutes ago Ferrer had been working there. At the ring of the doorbell he would have gone into some prepared hiding place. Had it been in England it might have been a priest's hole; but in Spain there had never been any necessity for such secret rooms. In any case, the house was not old enough to have that sort of thing. Therefore, he would be either in the cellars or up in an attic.

Before going in search of him the Duke decided to take a quick look round. Walking forward to the left-hand side of the desk, he glanced at the paper that lay spread out on it. Somewhat to his surprise he saw that it was a Russian newspaper about two weeks old. He then remembered Ferrer's passion for obtaining first-hand news from all parts of Europe. Beside the paper lay a Russian-Spanish dictionary that Ferrer had evidently been using to look up the meaning of words he did not understand.

As de Richleau's eyes fell upon the dictionary his heart suddenly stood still. The sight of it had rung a terrible bell that summoned up past memories. The last time he had seen a Russian-Spanish dictionary had been three years ago in his lodgings down by Barcelona's commercial harbour. He had then been using one to tutor a student that Ferrer had sent him, named Ruben Pineda. The young man had been one of Ferrer's brightest pupils. Later, on the night that de Richleau had so nearly lost his life, it had emerged that it was Pineda who, on Ferrer's instructions, had searched his lodging and been fooled into believing that he really was a Russian refugee.

But now it was he who had been fooled. Pineda had pulled a very clever bluff. Trusting in the beard he had grown, that three years had elapsed since they had met, and that he had since changed his name, he had said that they had become acquainted at the Somaten Club. That had seemed natural enough. But it was not the truth. Pineda had become Veragua.

The Duke stood beside Ferrer's desk, his mind working like a dynamo. He had left Veragua to guard the back entrance. Instead, by now he might have entered the house with the intention of helping his old master to escape. At that moment he heard a faint sound. Swinging round he saw Veragua standing in the open doorway. The young man had a smile on his face and was pointing a pistol at him.

21

The Twice-turned Tables

As de Richleau stared at the tall, smiling anarchist who now threatened his life, the truth about the afternoon's events flashed upon him. It was not, as he had supposed, that some of Ferrer's friends had learned of the investigation he was making and had been trailing him, waiting for some opportunity to murder him in a place where there would be a good chance of their escaping capture.

He had told no one that he was going to endeavour to trace Teresa - no one except Veragua. And he had not even mentioned her to him until after they had left the mill. But he had then confided to the young man that the woman he was going to see had been Ferrer's mistress, so he had good hopes of getting something out of her.

Had he spent only a few minutes with Teresa it seemed probable that, as with the many other inquiries he had made, Veragua would have taken no action, assuming that he had drawn another blank. But he had remained talking to her for the best part of a quarter of an hour.

Evidently that had led Veragua to assume that Teresa was giving away information that might lead to Ferrer's capture; so the time had come to put an abrupt end to 'Senor Goma's' activities. Out there in that quiet suburb he stood much less risk of being seen making his attempt and being captured than he would have in the city. It must have seemed to him now not only urgent to eliminate the Duke, but too good a chance to miss. He had left the automobile, walked up the almost deserted street and lobbed his bomb through the window.

The whole sequence of events was grasped by the Duke's mind in a matter of seconds. He knew now that he probably had only a few more moments to live. Veragua had only to squeeze the trigger of his pistol and he would be dead. To show that he realized the situation would prove fatal. Instead, he gave a quick frown and exclaimed:

'Why the hell are you pointing that thing at me?'

As he spoke he took an unhurried pace sideways and sat down in the chair behind Ferrer's desk.

The smile on the bearded features of the young man deepened, and he said, 'Can't you guess?'

'As a matter of fact I can,' de Richleau replied calmly. 'You are thinking of putting a bullet through me. But I wouldn't, if I were you. Of course, you think you could get away with it by putting in a report that Ferrer shot me while I was trying to arrest him. But you won't. If I die General Quiroga will have you shot.'

'Why should he? There would be no reason whatever for him to suppose that it was I who had killed you.'

'My dear boy. Had you been longer engaged in the sort of game we have been playing you would be aware that it is less dangerous to have close to you an enemy you know than to eliminate him, so that his work is taken over by another that you don't know. And from the beginning I have known you to be Pineda.'

Veragua's bearded mouth dropped open in surprise. The point of his gun also dropped a little. His eyes wide with astonishment, he exclaimed, 'What! You knew all the time and gave me the chance . ..'

He got no further. Under cover of the desk behind which he was sitting, de Richleau had eased out his pistol. Suddenly he jerked it up so that its barrel came just above the line of reference books. It spat flame. Four staccato reports shattered the silence of the house. The first three were from the Duke's automatic. Its bullets ripped into Veragua's stomach. The last was from Veragua's gun as a spasm closed his finger on its trigger. The bullet chipped a splinter low down off the left-hand corner of the desk, then ricocheted off to land in the far wall. With a long-drawn howl the young anarchist collapsed upon the floor.

De Richleau jumped up from the desk. Now that the back entrance of the house was unguarded Ferrer might slip out of it; so he had no time to lose. Veragua, clutching his stomach with both hands, lay writhing in agony in the doorway. The Duke paused only to snatch up the gun that had fallen from Veragua's hand. As he did so he snapped:

'You won't kill any more little children with your bombs, my friend. And I gave it you in the stomach so you should know just how much that poor woman Teresa suffered by your act this afternoon.'

A moment later he had crossed the passage and thrown open a door that seemed the most likely one to lead to the kitchen. It did. No one was there. Beyond it was a small scullery. Entering it, he saw on its far side a door that was evidently the back entrance to the house. The door was bolted and the key was in the lock. Having made certain that it had been turned, he took it out and put it in his pocket. It was certain that Ferrer had not had time to get out of the house since the shooting; so unless Veragua had come upon him lurking in the kitchen quarters and urged him to escape by the back entrance, he was now trapped in it.

De Richleau decided that his best plan would be to search the house from the bottom up, otherwise while he was on an upper floor Ferrer might slip out of a downstairs window. The villa was fairly modern; but most Spanish houses that are larger than a cottage have a cellar, so he swiftly cast round for the entrance to one. He expected to find it somewhere in the back of the premises but a swift scrutiny of the floors convinced him that in none of them was a camouflaged trap-door.

Going out into the hall he paused to listen intently for a moment. He feared now that Ferrer might be making the best of the time he was being given to tie sheets together into a rope; so that he could get away by lowering himself from one of the windows. Not for the first time, the Duke cursed the dubious loyalty of the Catalan police. Had it not been for that he would have brought a score of policemen with him and had the house surrounded; but a leak could have ruined this chance, the like of which might not come again, to catch Ferrer; so he had decided against it.

Dolores had evidently wriggled out of the lavatory window, or was sitting quietly there. The only sound that broke the stillness was Veragua's moaning. Reassured, de Richleau moved a few paces down the hall towards the door opposite that beside which Veragua lay, expecting it to lead to a sitting-room. As he did so he brushed past a red velvet curtain that hung on the side of the hall formed by a straight staircase that ran up from it. Wondering why there should be a curtain in such a pointless place, he pulled it back. The reason became plain. It concealed a door under the stairs. With grim satisfaction he wrenched it open.

The result was a bitter disappointment. Instead of the flight of steps leading downward that he had expected, it was full of coats, macintoshes and a variety of junk. Pushing the door to, he listened again. There was still no sound from upstairs but queer noises were now coming from the lavatory. Dolores was not battering upon its door but seemed to be kicking one of its walls and uttering muffled cries. What she was up to he had no idea, and he did not care.

He again took a pace towards what he believed to be the sitting-room, but it suddenly occurred to him that Ferrer might be crouching at the very far end of the cupboard under the stairs, hidden behind the junk that was in it.

Fetching the lamp from the end of the hall he opened the door again and set it down on the floor just inside the cupboard. Now, he was faced with a very dangerous situation. If he put his head in and Ferrer was lurking there, and had a pistol, he might be shot himself before he could shoot Ferrer.

The cupboard was only about three feet deep but about eight feet long, its roof sloping downwards from inside the doorway to within a foot or so of the floor. With a sudden movement he thrust his pistol round the doorjamb and fired two shots blind in the direction of its far end. If Ferrer had been there he must either have been hit or made some spontaneous movement as the bullets thudded into the underside of the stairs within inches of him. But the crash of the shots was followed by complete silence.

Disappointed again, and more worried than ever that by now Ferrer might be escaping from the house, de Richleau bent down and picked up the lamp. As he did so it lit the whole cupboard. He caught his breath and his eyes widened with excitement. They had fallen upon part of a line on the floor that ran at right angles to the floorboards.

The line emerged from under a big cardboard carton. Quickly he set the lamp down again, pocketed his pistol, and hauled the carton out of the cupboard. It was heavy and full of books. Beyond it there were two others, but the removal of the first was enough to show him that the line he had spotted was one edge of a trap-door. It must lead to a cellar and all the odds were that Ferrer was down in it.

He would have gone to his bolt-hole at the first ring of the front door bell. In her hurry and in the semi-darkness of the cupboard Dolores had failed to pull the cartons into place after he had descended, so that they would completely cover the top. But for that, de Richleau realized, he might have searched the house with a toothcomb, then left it in the belief that either Ferrer had not been there or had escaped before he had had a chance to catch him.

The problem now was how to get at him. To go down the steps into the cellar would be to walk into a death trap. The man at the bottom would have an overwhelming advantage. He had only to stand round the corner to the stairway with his pistol levelled and, as the intruder emerged from it, shoot him. But de Richleau had behind him ample experience of house to house fighting, during which pockets of resistance had to be mopped up. It took him only a minute to decide what to do.

Having thrust the heavy carton of books back, so that with the others on the hinge side of the trap-door their weight would prevent Ferrer coming up and making a desperate bid to get away, the Duke hurried back to the kitchen. There, he collected some bundles of faggots, a tin of oil, some wax tapers and a rolling pin. With these items he returned to the narrow hall and set about preparing to smoke Ferrer out.

First he hauled all the cartons of books out of the cupboard so as to leave the trap-door free. He then poured oil all over the faggots and pushed a wax taper into each. Lastly he tied two of the oil-soaked faggots to raincoats that were hanging in the cupboard. The combination of oil and rubber when on fire would, he knew, produce the most suffocating smoke.

When he opened the trap-door no glimmer of light filtered up from below. That shook him a little, as he felt that Ferrer should have considered himself safe enough down there to light a candle. He became worried then that a man so experienced in being hunted as Ferrer would, quite probably, have made himself an escape exit, and by now might have crawled through a tunnel to emerge in the garden. But the thought did not deter him from putting the matter to the test.

He lit one of the tapers, waited until the oil-soaked wood of the faggot had caught, then pitched it down into the cellar. As quickly as he possibly could he got the others well alight and heaved them, with the raincoats, after them. Flames leapt up at the bottom of the stairs. Above the crackling of the wood the sound of hurried movement came up to him. His handsome, slightly saturnine features broke into a grin. Ferrer was down there all right, and now desperately engaged in trying to put the fire balls out; but the odds against his succeeding were very heavy.

De Richleau quietly lowered the trap-door into place, so that none of the smoke that was now billowing up should escape. Picking up the rolling pin that he had brought from the kitchen, he went up the stairs until he was standing above the door to the cupboard. Leaning over the banister he waited.

The wait seemed interminable. Yet it was no more than three or four minutes. Suddenly there came a loud bang, as the trapdoor was thrust up and thrown back. After that there came the sound of someone gasping for breath, and eddies of smoke began to seep out into the hall. For a full minute nothing further happened. Then a head, that peered swiftly right and left, emerged cautiously from the open doorway of the cupboard.

But, to the Duke's amazement it was not Ferrer's head. Ferrer had had brown hair. This man's was red - startlingly red - the red that is known as 'carrots'. Nevertheless, with the head had appeared a hand that held a revolver. Whoever he was, as an occupant of this villa he must be an enemy. De Richleau leaned forward over the banister and brought his rolling pin down hard on the man's head. Without even a murmur his knees buckled and he fell in a heap on the floor of the narrow hall.

For two minutes de Richleau remained where he was, waiting for Ferrer to follow this other man out of the cupboard beneath him. But no second head appeared, neither was there any sound of footsteps on the cellar stairs. All he could hear were Veragua's groans and a continuation of the muffled noises from the lavatory. Putting down the rolling pin, he took out his pistol and came downstairs. Having shut the cupboard door as a precaution against Ferrer surprising him by suddenly emerging from that quarter, he turned the body of the red-headed man over and stared down at him.

His features were clean-shaven except for a carroty toothbrush moustache. For a moment de Richleau did not recognize him, then he realized that, after all, the man was Ferrer. He looked many years older than when the Duke had last seen him, perhaps on account of his year in prison; and the violently red hair, coupled with the fact that he no longer wore a beard, had entirely altered his appearance. Picking up the lamp de Richleau moved it nearer to him so that he could examine at close quarters the hair, now worn en brosse, on the skull. By the brighter light he could see that the violent dye used to change his hair to carrots had also stained the skin of his scalp. That dissolved the Duke's last doubts. The man was Francisco Ferrer.

De Richleau's next problem was to get his prisoner in to Barcelona. To take him as an apparently lifeless body in the open automobile or, worse still, when he came round as a captive shouting for help when they passed through the working class outskirts of the city, could have led to all sorts of trouble. For a moment he remained deep in thought, then he smiled to himself, for it had occurred to him to take a leaf out of the Ferrer family book.

Now he did open the door opposite to the one beside which Veragua lay moaning and retching. It led, as he had expected, into a sitting-room. At one end stood a table which, from the fruit and other things on it, was evidently used for meals; but in its centre the stained floorboards were covered with a coarsely woven Indian rug, measuring about six feet by eight.

Returning to the hall, de Richleau stuffed his handkerchief into the still unconscious Ferrer's mouth, picked him up, carried him into the sitting-room, laid him down at one end of the rug and then proceeded to roll him up in it. Having done that, he secured the tube from unrolling by pulling tight and knotting two curtain ties round it. Heaving the bundle up on to his shoulder he carried it out into the hall, put it down for a minute while he unlocked the front door then rolled it out on to the doorstep.

Leaving it there, he walked back up the hall and unlocked the door of the lavatory. The strange sounds that had come from it were then explained. Dolores had attempted to escape through the narrow window, but got stuck in it. Something about her fat posterior, from which depended skinny legs and feet shod in heavy brogues, the toes of which were beating a violent tattoo against the wall, struck him as incredibly funny. He roared with laughter, then with his open hand dealt her a mighty slap on the bottom. Her squawk of indignation came faintly back to him. Controlling his mirth, he took her by the ankles, stood back, and pulled hard upon them. She gave an agonized groan as the sharp tug freed her. Stepping forward he caught her as she fell.

Her eyes blazing hatred, she swivelled in his embrace, raised both her hands and clawed at his face. Instead of throwing his head back in an attempt to avoid her vicious attack, he brought it forward and downward in a swift, strong jerk. His forehead came into hard collision with her fleshy Semitic nose. She let out a scream, her hands flailed helplessly and, as he let go of her, she flopped down on to the lavatory seat.

Indifferent to the suffering of this woman who had helped to cause so much more suffering to others, he gave only a moment to looking down at her now hideous face: the nose flattened and streaming blood, the eyes blinded by tears. Then he said:

'I came to release you only because there is one of your murderous fraternity in the study who is on the point of dying in considerable pain. I have to get back to Barcelona quickly. Otherwise I may find myself with a corpse rolled up in a carpet on my hands; and I prefer that your friend Ferrer should be legally tried and executed. But if you have any morphia, laudanum or even aspirin in the house, give the lot to that misguided young fool who is dying.'

Turning on his heel he left her and hurried back to Ferrer. Heaving the roll of carpet up on to his shoulder, he plodded with it down the garden path and along the road to the triangle of grass on which Veragua had parked the automobile. Panting, he laid the roll in the back, cranked up the engine, then climbed up on to the high driver's seat and set off towards the city.

Twenty-five minutes later he pulled up in front of the Police Headquarters. Two uniformed men carried the roll of carpet in for him and upstairs to Urgoiti's office. As they set it down on the floor, the fat, bald Chief of the Security Bureau gave de Richleau a puzzled look, and said:

1 thought you meant to make an arrest. What's the idea of turning up with that old carpet?'

The Duke waited until the uniformed men had left the room, then knelt down, undid the ties, rolled the carpet back and removed the gag from Ferrer's mouth. Ferrer had recovered consciousness during the journey. He looked grey in the face, and woebegone. Struggling up into a sitting position he gave a violent sneeze. Kneeling behind him de Richleau smiled at Urgoiti, and said:

'I brought him wrapped up like this because I didn't want any trouble with him on the way. But here he is. The celebrated Senor Francisco Ferrer.'

The Police Chief had risen behind his desk. For a moment he stared at the captive, then he said, 'You've got the wrong man. That's not Ferrer.' 'Oh yes it is,' replied the Duke.

'It's not. I often used to see Ferrer taking his aperitif outside the Cafe Ronda. He was one of the best-known figures in Barcelona. He is a much younger man; he has brown hair and a beard.'

'Don't let his appearance deceive you. It's easy to shave off a beard, and his hair is dyed. As for his age, his year in prison wouldn't have made him look any younger.'

The red-headed man had come to his feet. Suddenly he burst into a violent spate of words. T don't know what you are both talking about, but I'll have the law on you for this. My name is Hernando Olozaga and I can bring a hundred people to prove it. This man,' he jabbed a finger towards de Richleau, 'broke into my house with another villain. I live out in the country. No amount of shouting would have brought help, and I was scared; so I hid in a cupboard. While I was there they must have quarrelled. There was a lot of shooting. When I thought they'd gone I peeped out of the cupboard. I saw the other fellow, a young chap with a beard, lying wounded on the floor of my workroom. He was clutching his stomach, and looked to me about all in. Next thing I knew, this man had coshed me and knocked me out.'

Urgoiti frowned at de Richleau. 'Explain, please. Where is Veragua?'

The Duke frowned. 'What our prisoner says about him is correct. He is probably dead by now.'

'Dead!' repeated the Police Chief, his eyes widening. 'Is it really true, then, that you shot him?'

'Yes. I had to; otherwise he would have shot me. It was only a minute before he held me up that I recognized him. By taking him on as a detective you have been nurturing a viper in your bosom. His name was not Veragua but Pineda. I knew him as a young anarchist and a student of Ferrer's when I was in Barcelona three years ago.'

'I cannot believe it.' Urgoiti shook his head. 'It is impossible that the police should have had such a deception practised upon them. And what, may I ask, were you doing in the city at that time?'

'Surely General Quiroga told you about me,' de Richleau said quickly. 'I was hunting anarchists, just as I have been doing these past two days; but then I was working on my own and posing as a Russian refugee.'

'Ha!' exclaimed the red-headed man. 'I recognize him now. He was pointed out to me by a friend of mine as a Russian nihilist, and his name ... his name . . . yes, it is Nicolai Chirikov.'

De Richleau laughed. 'Of course he remembers me. It would be extraordinary if he did not. I got a temporary job in his school for assassins and succeeded in breaking it up.'

Urgoiti gave him a queer look. 'But you are a foreigner, aren't you? Your name is not really Carlos Goma. The other evening, when we first met, Veragua also said he believed you to be a Russian refugee.'

'I am half Russian by birth. But what the devil has that to do with it? General Quiroga personally vouched for me to you, did he not?'

'Yes, yes; but he may have been deceived.'

'Deceived! What nonsense!'

Tt is not nonsense. It is much more likely that he should have been deceived about you, who arrived here only forty-eight hours ago, than that I should have been deceived about Veragua, who has worked for me for months.'

'You are quite wrong about that. General Quiroga has had incontestable proof of my true identity. What is more, I first met him three years ago, soon after this man Ferrer had failed in an attempt to have me murdered.'

'I tell you the man is not Ferrer.'

'I tell you he is,' de Richleau retorted stubbornly. 'I agree that his appearance is greatly changed, but that is mainly because he has dyed his hair. You have only to look at his scalp to see that it is dyed.'

Tt is not a criminal offence to dye one's hair, and he says he can bring plenty of people to swear to it that he is a Senor Olozaga.'

'Plenty of anarchists who are prepared to perjure themselves, no doubt; but there are many ways in which his real identity can be proved.'

'It seems to me that it is your identity that stands in greater need of proving.'

'God give me patience!' exclaimed the Duke angrily. 'I thought you an intelligent man, but tonight you are acting as though your head were made of wood.'

Urgoiti's plump figure stiffened with resentment. 'You will kindly refrain from insulting me.'

'And you will kindly refrain from questioning my integrity,' snapped back the Duke. 'Believe it or not, the man I have brought in is Ferrer. In General Quiroga's name I charge you to hold him for questioning. Should you fail to do so, I promise you it will cost you your job.'

'I'll hold him,' grunted the Police Chief, 'just to be on the safe side. But it looks to me as if he's someone you've got your knife into privately and are trying to frame.'

'Damn your impudence!' roared de Richleau. Tt now exceeds even your stupidity. I've had enough of this. I am going straight back to the Fortress to lodge a complaint about you with the Captain-General.'

'Oh no you're not.' Urgoiti pressed a bell-push on his desk. 'I'm holding you too. This man says you are a Russian nihilist named Chirikov. It wouldn't surprise me if you are, after what's happened to poor young Veragua. It looks to me as if he stumbled on the truth about you, and you shot him to keep him quiet. Anyhow, you admit yourself that you left him dying of wounds that you inflicted on him; so even if you turned out to be a Grandee of Spain, General Quiroga couldn't blame me for detaining you until we find out a bit more about what did happen. You're going to pass the night in a cell.'

That the Police Chief should have hit a bull's eye when making what he obviously thought to be the wildly improbable suggestion that Senor 'Carlos Goma' might turn out to be a Grandee of Spain, almost made the Duke laugh. But to have declared at this stage that he was one would only have made Urgoiti still more sceptical about his bona fides, and the situation that had developed was now no laughing matter. To have triumphed in his mission only to be told that he had arrested the wrong man was bad enough; to have to spend a night in prison because he had succeeded in saving his own life, at the expense of that of a youth who had been on the point of murdering him, seemed positively intolerable. Yet the last word, in this place, definitely lay with Urgoiti.

In vain de Richleau asked to be allowed to speak to General Quiroga on the telephone. Urgoiti, evidently still smarting under his insults, flatly refused. A uniformed man appeared in answer to the Chief's summons, others were sent for and the Duke and the red-headed man were both marched away, the latter loudly protesting that it was an outrage and that his name was Olozaga.

Locked in a solitary cell, the Duke took stock of the situation. When he had calmed down a little he had to admit to himself that he was in part to blame for what had happened. He had made a particular point with Quiroga about not wanting it to become generally known among the police that he was that Count de Quesnoy who had three years before worked against the anarchists and brought about the closing of the Escuela Moderna; but he had assumed that, before his arrival in Barcelona, the General had confided his true identity to the Police Chief. Evidently that was not so and the General could only have told Urgoiti that he was expecting a special investigator that evening to whom he wished him to give his full co-operation.

That being the case, when Urgoiti learned that Senor 'Gonad' had just shot one of his most promising detectives, and a man whom Urgoiti did not believe to be Ferrer declared that he knew 'Gomd' to be a Russian nihilist named Chirikov, the Police Chief had certainly had grounds for holding 'Gom&' until a full investigation into the question of his identity could be made.

About that the Duke felt no concern, for it could be only a matter of waiting until the morning; General Quiroga would be informed about what had happened, he would be released, and Urgoiti made to look a complete fool. But he was worried about Ferrer.

For a few minutes he wondered if he could possibly have been mistaken. The red-headed man certainly had only a vague resemblance to the Ferrer he had known in the past, and Urgoiti had been so positive that he was not. Yet as the Duke went back in his mind over the events of the evening his vague doubts were swiftly dissipated. Teresa had told him that Ferrer was living out at San Cugat under the name of Olozaga with Dolores Mendoza. For Dolores to have been there with a man who resembled Ferrer but was not him was beyond any possible coincidence. Then Ferrer's account of what had occurred had diverged considerably from the truth. He had said that two men had broken in; but that was not so. He said that he had hidden in a cupboard; but in fact he had been down in the cellar and had had to be smoked out. And he had^ made no mention at all of Dolores - obviously because if Urgoiti had sent out to have her picked up she would at once have been identified as one of Ferrer's closest associates and so put the noose round his own neck.

No, there could be no doubt about the red-headed man being Ferrer, but the thing that worried de Richleau was that, before he could get into touch with General Quiroga in the morning, Urgoiti might question Ferrer further, become strengthened in his opinion that the self-styled Olozaga really was an innocent person, and have him released. To have Urgoiti sacked later for his blunder would be little consolation for having lost the chance to bring Ferrer to justice.

The Duke was still speculating with considerable anxiety on such a possibility when, after about an hour, two warders entered his cell and one of them said to him, 'Senor Chirikov, we have orders to search you.'

'Chirikov is not my name,' he replied with a frown. 'Here I am known as Carlos Gomd.'

The warder shrugged. 'Chirikov is the name you're under on the charge sheet and that's good enough for us.'

'Charge,' repeated de Richleau. 'What am I charged with?'

'With the wilful murder of Detective Veragua. His body has just been brought in. Come on, now. No nonsense. Get your clothes off and quick about it.' the surprise of his life

For a moment de Richleau thought of protesting; but he quickly realized that it would be useless. The two men, evidently under the impression that he was a thug who had killed a member of the police force, were scowling at him and would clearly have jumped at the least excuse to give him a beating-up.

As he took off his clothes, garment by garment, they went through them. He had already been relieved of his own automatic, and the one that had belonged to Veragua, before being put into the cell. Now they took his _# police card, his wallet and his loose change, then returned his clothes and left him.

He re-dressed with a set face, now gravely alarmed by a new thought that had suddenly come to him. Could it be that Urgoiti had known all the time that the red-headed man was Ferrer, and be one of the police against whom Don Alfonso had warned him - a fanatical Catalan who was secretly doing his utmost to protect the anarchists? Could it possibly be that Urgoiti had twisted the situation to suit his own ends - that he meant to let Ferrer go, and to frame the man who had caught him for the murder of Veragua?

22

The Surprise of His Life

For a few moments de Richleau stood staring at the steel door of his cell. The thought that Urgoiti might be hand in glove with his enemies and that, if so, he had fallen into a trap, was an appalling one.

Then, with a shrug, he relaxed, convinced that he was letting his imagination run away with him. Urgoiti might be a self-opinionated and somewhat thick-headed official, but a man so high up in the service could hardly be a traitor. After all, he, de Richleau, had admitted to shooting Veragua, and now that the detective's death had been confirmed it was no more than normal procedure that he should be charged with it.

But why should he be charged as 'Chirikov' instead of as 'Gomd'? That could only mean that Urgoiti was accepting Ferrer's word rather than his. And it was Urgoiti who had selected Veragua to act as his constant companion during his investigation.

De Richleau sat down on the iron bed with which the cell was furnished. His thoughts were racing. He tried to persuade himself that everything would be all right in the morning. As he had said that he might not be back until very late Quiroga would not be waiting up for his return, but when he did not appear next day it was certain that the General would inquire of Urgpiti what had become of him. At the worst Urgoiti could only be keeping him out of the way until he had made a pretence of questioning Ferrer, then released him and given him a good start to get well clear of the city to a new hiding place. That was it. Then explanations would ensue. Urgoiti would make the most abject apologies; but Ferrer would already be beyond danger of recapture.

293

But Urgoiti was not going to get away with it. The Duke meant to see to that. Good tough old Quiroga, the scourge of the Barcelona anarchists, would support him. If need be he would go to the King. By the time de Richleau had done with him Urgoiti would have lost his job and his pension, and be extremely lucky if he did not have to serve a prison sentence into the bargain.

All the same, when the Duke lay down on the truckle bed and tried to get to sleep his mind continued to be harassed by so many unnerving possibilities that it refused to rest. Several times he tried to concentrate his thoughts on Gulia in her big warm bed and the joys they had experienced there, but, try as he would, he could not keep them on her; so during the long hours he did little more than doze, then start awake again with renewed anxiety at the extraordinary situation in which he found himself.

Morning brought nothing to allay his fears. On the contrary. At seven o'clock he was marched out to give himself a wash, and on returning to his cell a breakfast was dished out to him that looked so revolting that he decided not to eat it. For over an hour afterwards he sat gloomily on the edge of his bed, then a young Artillery Lieutenant was shown in to him.

Removing his kepi the young man introduced himself by the name of Navarez and announced that he had been nominated to act as 'Prisoner's Friend'.

De Richleau gave a start. As a soldier he knew well what the term implied. 'What!' he exclaimed. 'Does this mean that I am to be court-martialled?'

The young man nodded. 'Yes, of course. But we are lucky in that we shall not have long to wait this morning.'

'This morning!'

'Since the revolt a court-martial has been convened to sit at ten o'clock every morning. It administers summary justice to all political prisoners that have been brought in during the preceding twenty-four hours. But such cases have been much fewer during the past week, and we are the only one on today's list; so our case should be heard right away.'

De Richleau knew then, beyond all doubt, that Urgoiti did intend to frame him as Veragua's murderer. It was a terrifying thought. He stared aghast at the young officer who evidently disliked the job he had been given but had been made callous to it from having had to perform a similar function several times in the past month. He was going on with hurried unconcern:

'I understand that you are a Russian nihilist and that last night you killed a detective. If thbse are the facts I don't think there is much that I can do for you; but if you have any line of defence let me hear it and I'll put it to the Court.'

Thank you,' said the Duke. There is only one thing you can do for me. That is to go up to the Fortress at once and tell General Quiroga that. . .'

He got no further. Take a message from a prisoner to that old tiger,' interrupted the Lieutenant derisively. Ts it likely? He'd have my head off.'

'Very well then, let it be a written message that you can deliver without seeing him.'

'Prisoners awaiting trial are not allowed to send letters to anyone outside the jail.*

De Richleau drew in a sharp breath. Then I fear there is nothing that you can do for me. I prefer to defend myself.'

'That is not permitted. If all the rebels who have been before the Court during the past month had been allowed to talk their heads off the Court would never have got through. It would still be sitting next Christmas.'

'Do you mean,' asked the Duke with rising alarm, 'that I shall not be allowed to say a word in my own defence? That I must leave it to you to put the bare bones of anything I tell you before the Court, and that on that alone my life will hang?'

Navarez nodded. 'That's the usual procedure in these routine cases. And the Court doesn't take long to reach a verdict. If it does turn out that you didn't kill this 'tec you'll be a free man by about half past ten. If not. . . well.'

'Well what?'

For the first time the young man looked slightly uncomfortable. Fingering his small moustache, he muttered, 'You may as well know what to expect. These Courts are convened to administer summary justice. Establishing them was the only way to stop bombs being thrown into the better-class restaurants and officers walking in the streets being shot from windows. They have succeeded in that; but only because it is now known by everybody that any prisoner found guilty is given no second chance. In the yard behind the building in which the Court sits a firing squad is always kept in a state of readiness. If it's thumbs down you'll be taken out to it straight away.'

De Richleau had paled under his tan. He realized now that he was in desperate danger. Urgoiti had known the procedure and counted with well-founded confidence on events taking the course usual in such cases. It might be all over before Quiroga heard a word about it. Afterwards Urgoiti, with his tongue in his cheek, would bow to the storm and accept a reprimand. But he need not fear anything worse as he could plead a belief that it was Quiroga who had been deceived, and all he had done was to send up for trial a Russian nihilist who, to prevent himself being exposed in his true colours, had shot a detective.

'Well?' said Navarez. 'Time's getting on. If you have got a plea to make you'd better let me hear it.'

'If I told you the truth you would never believe me,' replied de Richleau bitterly.

'No harm in trying me,' remarked the lieutenant with calm indifference.

'Very well then. My proper style and title is His Excellency Major-General the Duke de Richleau, Count de Quesnoy, Count Konigstein, Knight of the Most Exalted Order of the Golden Fleece. I am a British subject and a personal friend of your King, with whom I have sat at table three times during the past month. I arrived in Barcelona . . .'

'That's enough!' snapped Navarez. 'What sort of a fool do you take me for? But perhaps you're trying to be funny. If so, let me tell you this is no time for joking.'

'As it is I who look like shortly facing a firing squad, and not you, it is unnecessary to remind me of that.'

'Let's have the truth then.'

'Apart from sparing you some of my lesser titles and honours I have told it; but I also told you first that you would not believe me. I don't suppose you will believe either that for the two nights preceding this last one, I was staying up at Montjuich as General Quiroga's guest.' *

'Of course I don't,' the young officer's voice had become impatient. 'Is it likely that the Captain-General would entertain a nihilist?'

'You have no shadow of proof that I am a nihilist,' retorted de Richleau angrily. 'Do I look or speak like one?'

The Lieutenant shrugged. 'I am told that some of them are educated men who have become mentally deranged. One of the most famous is a Russian Prince. I forget his name but it begins with K.'

'Kropotkin,' supplied the Duke. 'All right. You have me there. But at least I ask you to believe that for most of my life I have been a soldier. You are a soldier, too, so we both know that the quickest way to earn promotion is to display courage.'

'What has this to do with your case?'

'That it gives you a chance to display your courage. Go and see General Quiroga for me,* or even telephone to him. He cannot eat you. On the contrary he will think the better of you for having bearded him rather than see a man condemned who may be innocent. I swear to you by all I hold sacred . . .'

'What? That you did not kill this detective?'

'No. I do not deny that I shot him, but. . .'

'Since you admit your guilt I'll be damned if I'll beard the Captain-General on your account.'

De Richleau sat down on the truckle bed and put his head between his hands. He had been in many a tight corner before but in nearly all of them he had at least had the chance to fight his way out. This time there was no such chance. He had been trapped under a false identity and caught up in a swift-moving judicial process designed only as an emergency measure to crush a serious revolt. It really began to look as though, should he fail to get word of his plight to Quiroga, he would find himself facing a firing squad before the morning was out. For a minute or more he racked his brains for a way to persuade or bully Navarez into acting as his messenger. Then a new idea occurred to him. Springing to his feet, he cried:

'I am a British subject. I demand to see the British Consul.'

'You told me you were when you made all those other damn fool claims about yourself,' the Lieutenant replied coldly. 'Have you any papers to prove it?'

'No. But as a British national I demand to see my Consul.'

'You are in no position to demand anything.'

'All right then. I request, beg if you will, that he should be brought here.'

Navarez shook his head. 'We've had dozens of foreign nationals through our hands: Frenchmen, Italians, Greeks; mostly seamen from ships in the docks who joined the revolutionaries. With the city under Martial Law they were treated like the rest. In an emergency formalities such as notifying Consuls have to be waived, and the emergency is still on.'

Again they remained silent for a minute while the Duke strove desperately to think of a way out. Then the Lieutenant said, 'Your best plan is to cut out the fireworks about your being the King of Siam and plead that you shot this fellow in self-defence.'

T did. If I hadn't shot him he would have shot me. But do you think the Court will believe that?'

T doubt it,' again the young man fingered his moustache, 'still, it's about your only chance.'

As he was speaking a key grated in the lock, and the door was thrown open. Navarez stepped out into the corridor and two warders entered the cell. One of them snapped a handcuff on to the Duke's right wrist and snapped the other on to his own left wrist. Then they filed out and up to the ground floor of the building.

In front of it a prison van was waiting. As the Duke stepped out into the bright morning sunshine, he cast a swift look up and down the street. There were plenty of people in it going about their morning's business. If he could have cut and run for it he might have got away in the crowd. But as he was handcuffed to the warder such an attempt was out of the question. Filled now with such apprehension that he had broken out into a slight sweat, he allowed himself to be hustled into the van.

It set off at a trot, then as its pace slowed he knew that the horses were drawing it up the long hill of Montjuich. All the time his brain was working furiously, but it had now become sterile of ideas by which he might attempt to save himself. His one hope lay in the chance that when it reached the fortress some member of the General's staff who knew him by sight might be about, so that he could shout to them for help. But when the van pulled up and he was pushed out of it he saw that it had halted on the far side of the fortress from the General's quarters. Two minutes later his warders had marched him through a door and down a passage into a small bleak waiting-room.

Navarez left them, and for ten minutes de Richleau remained there, still cudgelling his wits without avail. Now that he was alone with the two warders he contemplated the desperate step of attempting to overcome them. Had he been free he might have succeeded, but he was still handcuffed to one of them. He knew that even if he had knocked the man unconscious, he would never be able to get the key and unlock the steel bracelet while the other attacked him, before shouts brought some of the soldiers he had seen at the entrance to the fortress.

An N.C.O. appeared at the door of the room and beckoned to them. Turning, he led the way down the passage, the Duke and the warders following closely on his heels. They went out through a door and crossed a small courtyard.

Twelve soldiers and a sergeant were lounging near their stacked rifles. De Richleau needed no telling that they were the firing squad that Navarez had mentioned as always being kept in a state of readiness.

The north wall of the courtyard was blank, without doors or windows. Half-way along it and about four feet from the ground there showed a long, irregular patch where the stone-work had been pitted by innumerable bullets. Obviously it was there, with their backs to that stretch of wall, that during the past six weeks hundreds of mob-leaders, anarchists, syndicalists, Communists, and probably quite a number of honest but unlucky workers, had met their death. The Duke lowered his eyes and could not prevent a shudder running through him.

They passed through another door, turned right and entered a largish room furnished only with a number of deal tables, chairs and benches. In the middle of a long table at the far end of the room three officers were seated close together: a Major, a Captain and a Lieutenant. Anxiously the Duke scrutinized their faces in an endeavour to assess the characters of the three men who were about to try him. The Major was elderly, square-headed and somewhat morose-looking. De Richleau judged him to be past further promotion at his age, so probably disappointed in his career and a harsh disciplinarian. The Captain was about twenty-six, a dark, handsome fellow with a fine upturned moustache. The Lieutenant was a vapid-looking youth wearing a monocle.

At smaller tables to either side and a little in front of the long one two other officers were sitting; one was Lieutenant Navarez, the other - a dark round-faced man of about thirty - de Richleau knew would act as Prosecutor. To the latter's right and a little behind him Comandante Urgoiti was sitting. At a fourth table, forming a T with the long one at the top, there was another officer with a number of papers and books in front of him. He belonged to the Legal branch and was there to play the part of Clerk of the Court. At the same table there were two N.C.O.s with pens behind their ears. Except for a uniformed policeman and two men who looked like detectives, the benches were empty.

In the doorway the warder to whom the Duke was handcuffed quickly unlocked the bracelet round his wrist. Both warders stepped aside then went to sit on the bench next to the policeman. Two soldiers with rifles and fixed bayonets took their place one on either side of de Richleau and marched him up to the end of the middle table.

The Legal Officer asked his name, and he replied in a firm voice, 'Jean Armand Duplessis, tenth Duke de Richleau. I have been brought here owing to a most iniquitous . . .'

He got no further. The officer cut in. 'Your name is given on the charge sheet as Nicolai Chirikov.'

'That was a nom de guerre used by me only for a few weeks when I was here in 1906, seeking evidence to bring to justice certain anarchists believed to have been concerned in the wedding-day attempt on His Majesty King Alfonso. I arrived here three days ago for a similar purpose. I was received by General Quiroga and spent two nights as his guest. I . . .'

The Major, who was acting as the President of the Court, rapped sharply on the table with his gavel and said, 'The Prisoner seeks to waste the time of the Court. Expunge his remarks from the record and proceed.'

The few preliminaries were soon over and the charge read out: 'That the said Nicolai Chirikov, being temporarily employed as a member of the special police, did on the evening of September 10th wilfully kill by shooting Detective-Officer Rodrigo Veragua, who had gone out to the village of San Cugat in his company.'

To that de Richleau replied, 'Not Guilty. The man I shot was an anarchist named Ruben Pineda.'

Urgoiti whispered to the Prosecuting Officer, who rose and said, 'We shall bring evidence before the Court to show that the murdered man was in fact Rodrigo Veragua.'

The first witness was called: a frightened-looking old woman who, after a moment, the Duke recognized as the landlady of the pension at which he had stayed during his first visit to Barcelona. After peering at him she identified him as Nicolai Chirikov; upon which he said:

'I have already admitted to having carried out investigations to the advantage of the State under that name.'

'Silence!' said the President loudly. 'The Prisoner will speak only when he is addressed.'

The second witness was a foxy-looking little man who deposed that during August, 1906, he had been a frequenter of the branch of the Somaten that had premises down by the docks; that he had on several occasions seen the prisoner there and heard him talk with enthusiastic approval of the outrages committed by militant anarchists, and say that he had himself been exiled from Russia for nihilist activities.

De Richleau let that pass, only thinking grimly that Urgoiti must have spent a very busy night raking up these witnesses against him.

The third and fourth witnesses were the two detectives. They deposed to having been sent out to San Cugat the previous night at about half past ten. They then described the circumstances in which they had found Veragua's dead body and the injuries he had sustained. They also stated that they had known the dead man for a number of years as Rodrigo Veragua.

As Urgoiti would have been certain to choose men of his own kidney to go out to Ferrer's recent hiding-place, de Richleau felt sure that the two detectives had perjured themselves; but there was nothing he could do about it.

The next witness to be called was a sandy-haired little man with pince-nez. He proved to be a ballistics expert. The Duke's automatic was produced and three bullets that had been extracted from Veragua's body, which he testified had been fired from the weapon.

The Duke held up his hand. The President nodded. 'You may speak.'

'Sir,' said de Richleau firmly, 'I do not deny that I shot this man, but when I first met him he was an anarchist using the name of Pineda. And my name is not Chirikov. You have only to confront me with General Quiroga and he will order this wicked charge to be withdrawn immediately. He is aware of my true identity and I swear to you that he will vouch for it.'

The Major looked a little uncertain and whispered to his two colleagues. Hope rose in de Richleau's breast, but Urgoiti had been murmuring to the Prosecutor. The latter rose to his feet and said:

'May it please the Court, evidence has already been given that the Prisoner is in fact Nicolai Chirikov. I submit that to request His Excellency the Captain-General to leave his urgent duties in order to attend this Court, only to tell it that he has known the Prisoner under another name, would be a most unjustified waste of His Excellency's time.'

The three officers who formed the Court again whispered together. Pale with anxiety the Duke watched them, waiting for their all-important decision. At length it came. The President said:

'The Court is satisfied that the Prisoner is the nihilist Chirikov. In the circumstances it would be pointless to request His Excellency the Captain-General to attend and give evidence. Let the case proceed.'

The Prosecutor was still on his feet. He bowed and again addressed the Court. 'The Prosecution has shown that Veragua was slain by bullets from the Prisoner's pistol. It remains only to show that he was on the premises where the murder was committed at the time it took place. Next witness.'

De Richleau glanced round to the door by which the witnesses entered. To his utter amazement he saw Ferrer walk in. That Urgoiti should have had the audacity to produce him seemed positively staggering. Yet there he was, looking more than his age despite his head of carrot-coloured hair, but his bright, intelligent eyes proclaimed that his mind was as active as ever.

When questioned by the Prosecutor, he told the same story as he had at Police Headquarters the previous night, with only a few embellishments. He lived alone out at San Cugat with only a daily woman who came in to do for him. He had been working in his study when he had heard a window smash at the back of the premises.. Fearing robbers who would do him violence he had hidden in a cupboard under the stairs, and so on.

As de Richleau listened he could hardly believe that he was not dreaming. That Ferrer of all people should be standing there swearing his life away seemed so fantastic that it could not possibly be true. Yet he was horribly aware that he was not suffering from a nightmare; this macabre travesty of justice was actually taking place.

The moment Ferrer stopped speaking the Duke burst into speech. Pointing an accusing finger at Ferrer he declared with passionate sincerity:

The witness has told a tissue of lies. He is not the peaceful citizen, Olozaga, that he claims to be. He is Francisco Ferrer, the notorious anarchist. It was he who ran the Escuela Moderna, the school for assassins. He has been responsible for more murders than any man in Barcelona. I demand . . .'

'Silence!' roared the President, banging on the table with his gavel. 'Silence!'

The Duke ignored him and cried above the din, 'I demand that General Quiroga be fetched so that I can prove my true identity. I demand that Ferrer, this man who has instigated outrages that have led to the death of hundreds of innocent people, be brought to trial. This Court dare not condemn me. I am here as a result of a conspiracy. Comandante Urgoiti is at the bottom of it. He has hatched this plot to have me shot so that Ferrer may go free.'

'Silence! Silence! Silence!' shouted the President; and then, 'If you do not stop this minute, I'll have you gagged.'

Breathless and sweating, de Richleau subsided. Ferrer was glancing nervously from side to side; but the Prosecutor nodded to him and he scurried swiftly back into the room from which he had come.

After a moment's hush the President said, 'Proceed,' and, standing up, the Prosecutor again addressed the Court.

T am confident,' he said, 'that the Court will disregard these wild accusations. It is obvious that they are no more than a bluff by which the Prisoner hopes to gain a few hours of life by beguiling the Court into an adjournment. But that he is guilty the Court can hardly doubt.' He then gave a very brief summing-up, ended by demanding the death penalty, and sat down.

The President made a sign to the Prisoner's Friend. Navarez stood up, bowed, fingered his little moustache, and said:

'May it please the Court, although I have been nominated as the Prisoner's Friend, I fear I can make only a poor showing in that role. When I interviewed the prisoner earlier this morning he would say little about himself except to make assertions impossible of belief, such as that he was a foreign Duke, a personal friend of His Majesty the King, had been staying in Barcelona as the guest of His Excellency the Captain-General, and so on. It is obvious that he suffers from delusions of grandeur. That would indicate that his mind is unbalanced, and the Court may wish to take his mental state into consideration. Apart from that I can only submit to you the statement he made to me, that he killed Veragua in self-defence; but, unfortunately, of that I can give the Court no proof.'

Had de Richleau not been so frantically anxious about the fate that might overtake him in the next quarter of an hour, he would have felt outraged by this travesty of a defence; but he had been prepared for something like it and his whole mind was concentrated on wondering if there was even a chance that the Court would agree on a verdict of 'Guilty, but with extenuating circumstances'. That would have meant imprisonment in the fortress and, given even a few hours, he might yet save his life.

In accordance with practice at courts-martial, the President put the question to the junior member of the Court first. 'Lieutenant Herrera, do you find the Prisoner guilty or not guilty?'

'Guilty,' replied the youth with the monocle.

The Duke's pulses raced. In his mind he saw again the courtyard outside and the lounging soldiers in it. On many occasions in Central America he had seen firing squads execute rebels, saboteurs and spies, and he knew that such executions could vary greatly. If the men ordered to do the job had never carried out an execution before, most of them hated it. They were either filled with pity for the condemned man, or reluctant to accept the guilt of having been a party to killing a fellow-human in cold blood; so they either fired over his head, or shut their eyes before pulling the trigger. That meant that the poor wretch up against the wall was rarely killed by the volley. Instead he dropped wounded and screaming, and the officer supervising the execution had to finish him off by putting his pistol to his jerking head and blowing out his brains. But if the men in the squad had had previous experience the majority of them aimed to kill. De Richleau thanked his gods that the men outside must have had ample practice at such work, so at least he could hope for a quick, clean death.

The President turned to the second senior member of the Court and said, 'Captain Escalante. Do you find the Prisoner guilty or not guilty?'

'Guilty,' replied the handsome Captain without a shadow of hesitation.

The word was hardly out of his mouth before de Richleau exclaimed, 'Captain Escalante! Is your name Juan?'

The astonished Captain looked at him and nodded.

'You are, then, making your addresses to the Senorita Mercedes, General Quiroga's daughter.'

The Captain frowned, but again he nodded.

'Then,' gasped the Duke, 'I will tell you something about her that you do not know.'

In an instant the Captain was on his feet. 'If you dare . . .' he began angrily; but de Richleau cut him short.

'It is nothing to the young lady's discredit. She is embroidering a pair of velvet bedroom slippers with your initials as a New Year present for you.'

Urgoiti jumped to his feet and shouted, 'I protest! This is irrelevant! Yet another pack of lies by the Prisoner in the hope of gaining a respite.'

The President banged the table with his gavel. 'Silence! You have no right to address the Court unless asked for your opinion.'

The Captain, still staring at de Richleau with a puzzled look, muttered, 'If this is true, how could you possibly know of it?'

'That is my point,' the Duke was trembling with excitement and new hope. 'How could I know it? Only because I have told the Court the truth. For the nights of the 8th and 9th I was a guest in General Quiroga's home and lived as one of his family. You have only to ask the General and he will tell you that I was that Count de Quesnoy whose wife was killed by the bomb thrown at His Majesty's wedding procession, and that I have been seeking revenge against the anarchists ever since. You need not even bother the General. Send for the Senora Quiroga, for the Senorita Mercedes, for their butler, for the soldier servant who valeted me while I was a guest in their house. Any or all of them will tell you that I speak the truth.'

As he paused, breathless, the three officers constituting the Court exchanged a few quick words. Then the President announced:

'I suspend the Court until further investigations have been made.'

At that moment there came a loud report. The windows of the room rattled. A spiral of smoke eddied up from just behind the table at which the Prosecutor was sitting. Comandante Urgoiti, realizing that it must now emerge that he had known the facts from the beginning, and that ruin, disgrace and death awaited him, had pulled his pistol from its holster and blown out his brains.

His act gave immediate confirmation of de Richleau's innocence. The officers present escorted him in a body through the long corridors of the fortress to the General's office. Quiroga berated them for a set of fools; but the Duke could now afford to be generous. He spoke up for them, saying that they had only been carrying out their duty and had been entirely misled by Urgoiti's skilful plot. The General then assumed his jovial aspect and invited them all over to his residence, where he ordered up champagne for them to drink a toast to his guest's eleventh-hour escape.

Senora Quiroga and Mercedes had joined them, and de Richleau asked his host and hostess to do him a great favour. He said that since the bedroom slippers Mercedes was making for Captain Escalante had been the means of saving his life, he begged that they would there and then give their consent to the young couple becoming engaged. Mercedes's mother hesitated for a moment, but the old General declared heartily that it would make a happy ending to what might so easily have been a terrible tragedy; so consent was given.

Yet it was not quite the end. After the little celebration was over and the officers had returned to their duties, de Richleau, not having eaten since the previous evening, asked for a light meal. When he had finished it he felt so utterly exhausted from his ghastly ordeal that he went upstairs and threw himself upon his bed. Ten minutes later he was sound asleep.

At five o'clock the General went up and roused him, to tell him that at midday he had given fresh instructions to the police, who had been busy collecting witnesses all the afternoon, and that he had convened a court-martial to try Ferrer that evening. Together they walked over to the Courtroom. Evidence was given that Ferrer had played a leading part in fomenting the July revolt, and de Richleau gave evidence about the anarchist's past activities,

He was condemned to death and an order given that the sentence was to be carried out at dawn the following morning.

As the Duke and Quiroga walked away from the Courtroom, the General said, 'You know, that Engineer Officer who acted as Prisoner's Friend did a better job for him than, from all accounts, young Navarez did for you this morning. Even now we haven't succeeded in fastening on him any act of violence carried out by himself. And those woolly-minded Liberals love him. They maintain that he stands for free speech and a broader form of education. There is going to be hell to pay when they hear that we've shot him. Radical bodies all over Europe are going to raise a tremendous outcry. I wouldn't be in the Prime Minister's shoes after Ferrer's execution has been announced for any decoration His Majesty could give me.'¹

De Richleau shrugged. T don't give a damn what they say about my part in the matter. I know him for the cold-blooded viper that he is. By having him shot we are preventing him from plotting further outrages that would mean the death of hundreds more innocent people. That has been the real issue, and it is the duty of men like us to protect people who cannot protect themselves.'

That night the Senora Quiroga gave a small dinner party for relations and a few intimate friends, at which the engagement of Mercedes to Captain Juan Escalante was unofficially announced. Afterwards the handsome Captain and Mercedes overwhelmed the Duke with their thanks at having played the part of Fairy Godmother to them, and asked him to be Godfather to their first child. To which Mercedes added that she meant to make him, too, a pair of embroidered bedroom slippers for the New Year.

Delighted at having brought happiness to the young couple and with blissful thoughts of the happiness he would himself soon find again in Gulia's arms, he went up to bed.

He had arranged to be called early in the morning and a little before six o'clock he walked through the fortress to the small courtyard where executions were carried out. Soon afterwards, in the grey light of dawn, Ferrer was brought up from the dungeons, blindfolded, and put against the wall. An officer gave the order,

¹ Historical Note. Ferrer was shot on September 12th, 1909. Vigorous protests at his execution appeared in Liberal newspapers all over the world. So great were the demonstrations in Madrid against the Government that Senor Maura, the Conservative Prime Minister, was forced to resign. The Liberal leader Senor Moret stepped into his shoes on October 22nd. Nevertheless there can be no doubt whatever that Francisco Ferrer was morally responsible for the deaths and wounding of many hundreds of people. D.W, a volley shattered the silence, and the anarchist fell riddled with bullets.

Having personally satisfied himself that no fresh piece of treachery by fanatical Catalans or anarchist sympathizers had enabled his enemy to escape, and that his poor Angela's untimely death had been avenged, de Richleau walked back to the General's house and made a hearty early breakfast. A few hours later he took leave of the Quirogas and left Barcelona on a morning train.

On the evening of the 14th he arrived back in San Sebastian. It was too late to send a message to Gulia letting her know of his return; but soon after midnight he went to the livery stable and collected the horse, which he had left instructions should be kept at his disposal. In the orchard behind the villa he hobbled it as in the past, then he got out the ladder from the gardener's shed and climbed up to Gulia's window.

Her relief and delight at his safe return were unbounded. They had been separated for a week so in the hours that followed the ardour of their passion for one another reached new heights and, since between their embraces de Richleau had to tell her the long story of his doings in Barcelona, they did not sleep a wink.

Next morning the Duke waited on Don Alfonso and was received most kindly by him. After the King had listened to his report, he said that all the parties of the Left would make so much capital out of Ferrer's execution that a very difficult time lay ahead. But he fully agreed that they had done the right thing; adding that if the people desired reforms they must bring them about in a constitutional manner, and that in the meantime it was the duty of the Government to protect the innocent from violence by criminal fanatics such as Ferrer.

That night de Richleau rode out to the villa again. Once more the two lovers took their joy of one another, but their transports of the preceding night had taken toll even of their seemingly insatiable desire, and during it they had hardly closed their eyes. In consequence, as they had often done before, at about three o'clock in the morning, clasped in each other's arms, they first fell into a blissful doze, then slept.

With a soldier's trained ability to wake at any hour, a little before dawn the Duke opened his eyes, freed himself from Gulia's embrace and sat up. He had just lit the bedside lamp so that he could see to dress, when he heard the sound of someone coming up the ladder. Next moment a cloaked figure scrambled in through the window.

As de Richleau stared in that direction it flashed into his mind that, naked as he was, he was at a considerable disadvantage in tackling a burglar. But at that moment the intruder turned towards the bed and the light from the lamp shone full on his face.

The Duke drew a sharp breath. For a few seconds he thought he must be seeing a ghost. But it was no wraith from the dead that stood scowling at him. It was a man of flesh and blood; and he was Gulia's husband, Jos6 de Cordoba.

23

Sunrise in the Bay

During the course of his thirty-odd years de Richleau had found himself in many dangerous situations and a certain number of embarrassing ones, but none more embarrassing than the present. Occasional contretemps with the husbands of lovely ladies were the hazards which had to be accepted by a virile man who had spent nearly all his life as a bachelor and was so fastidious in his choice of mistresses that he had never kept a demi-mondaine. But never before had he been caught naked in bed with a woman; much less the wife of a friend whom he had believed to be dead.

Temporarily bereft of speech, he stared at the stalwart, bearded figure. Then, finding his tongue, he exclaimed, 'I thought. . .'

T can very well guess what you thought,' de Cordoba burst out, his face convulsed with rage. 'You thought that I was not returning from South America until the end of October. You would have been right, and free to continue to practise your vile treachery, but for the threat to the peseta brought about by the war in Morocco. Ruiz cabled me three weeks ago asking me to return and resume control here. I was three hundred miles up the Amazon when his cable reached me, but I started for home at once.'

As the Conde paused for breath de Richleau began again. 'But I thought . . .' then he checked himself. It had suddenly dawned upon him that if Ruiz had sent that cable towards the end of August he could not possibly have received news at the beginning of the month that his brother was dead. Therefore Gulia had lied. She must have invented the whole story about her husband's death.

Turning his head he shot a swift glance at her. She was sitting up in bed beside him, with the top of the sheet held up in front of her to hide her superb breasts. Her long Titian gold hair hung about her in disorder, her big eyes were wide and shining, her breath was coming fast; but on her beautiful face there was an expression of defiance as she looked straight before her at her husband.

Swiftly the Duke grasped the fact that he was in a cleft stick. Either he must reveal the deception she had practised on him, or allow de Cordoba to believe that he had deliberately seduced his wife during his absence. De Richleau had never been a man to kiss and tell. Within seconds he decided that, wicked as Gulia's trickery had been, he could not give her away. Feeling that his only course now was to carry the war into the enemy's camp, he began again, more firmly than before.

'Very well. I understand. But you might have spared yourself this unpleasant discovery if you had not returned like a thief in the night. It seems you must have been spying on us to. arrive here at this hour and by way of the ladder.'

'I've done nothing of the kind,' de Cordoba retorted harshly. 'And it is you who are the thief. My ship docked at Bilboa yesterday evening. I thought that by hiring an automobile I could easily get home by midnight. But the cursed thing broke down and it was six hours before I reached a town where I could hire another. When I did get here, not wishing to wake the whole household I went round to the back of the villa to see if I could find a way to get in. I found one. Yes, I found a ladder leading up to my wife's bedroom. And what then? What a welcome home! I found a man whom I regarded with affection and respect in my wife's bed.'

'I sympathize with you in the shock you sustained,' replied the Duke calmly. 'What more can I say? That which is done is done. In such a situation an apology would only sound insincere.'

'Apology be damned!' the Conde exploded. 'By God, you're going to give me satisfaction, and that before you are much older.'

De Richleau sighed. 'Since you demand it, I am entirely at your service.'

'Demand it! Of course. What else would you expect? Now collect your clothes and get out of here. You can dress in the bathroom.'

'No,' the Duke shook his head, and his jaw became aggressive. 'That I will not do. I refuse to be humiliated by getting naked out of bed in front of you. And unless you wish to lower yourself by entering on an unseemly brawl you cannot make me. It is you who will leave this room while I dress at my leisure.'

For a moment de Cordoba glowered at him, then he sneered, 'One would hardly expect to find such delicacy in a man base enough to seduce the wife of a friend. But let it be as you say.

You'll find me down in the hall. Be quick about it. I'll stand for no delay in making our arrangements.' Turning, he marched from the room, slamming the door behind him.

As his footsteps faded away down the corridor, Gulia and de Richleau took their eyes from the door and looked at one another. 'Well,' he asked coldly. 'What have you to say?'

Two great tears had welled up into her eyes and were running down her magnolia-petal cheeks. Sadly she shook her head. 'Oh Armand, my dear love, I never dreamed that things would end for us like this.'

'Nor I; which is less surprising since I believed him dead,' de Richleau replied bitterly. 'But you; you lied to me. You made up that story about his having been mauled by a puma, and that Ruiz had asked you to keep his death secret because if it became known there would be a run on the bank. It's obvious now that you knew him to be alive all the time, but did not expect him back until the end of October.'

'Yes,' she murmured. 'It's true. But I beg you not to think too badly of me because of that. We have had such a wonderful time together. Think of the happiness I have given you. And your conscience, at least, is clear.'

'My conscience!' he burst out. 'Yes, but not my reputation in your husband's eyes. Do you not realize that whatever may happen now he will regard me with contempt - as a man who has sullied his honour?'

'Honour! Oh Armand, why must you men make so much of that? Surely love counts for more. You love me. I know you do.' Suddenly raising her arms she threw them round his neck.

'Love you!' Breaking her hold he thrust her from him. 'After what you have done, how can I do anything else than despise you.'

As she collapsed sobbing on her pillow, he angrily kicked the bedclothes aside, jumped out of bed and started to dress.

By the time he was in his shirt and trousers she was sitting up again, watching him with tear-dimmed eyes. In a hoarse voice she spoke. 'Armand. This duel that he insists on fighting. It is I who have brought it on you. Oh, I pray to God that you will not be hurt. If you were killed I ... I'd never get over it. I . . . I. .

He felt calmer now, and quickly reassured her. 'You've little need to let that worry you. I am used to arms, whereas he, poor devil, is only used to handling butterfly nets. There's one chance in a hundred that he might pip me at the regulation twenty paces, but no more.'

Getting out of bed she stood in front of him, naked and as beautiful as Venus arisen from the foam. But her arms hung slack by her sides and her head was bowed. Choking back a sob she said:

'I don't think I am a wanton. I have refused the pleading of scores of handsome men. That I am a wicked woman to have behaved so despicably towards you I confess. But love drove me to it, Armand. From the very first moment I saw you 1 knew you were the only man that I could ever love profoundly. I wanted you desperately - desperately. I did everything I could to get you. I even lied about Jos6.*He was very far from being a satisfactory husband, but I've no reason at all to believe that he really kept a mistress in Madrid. Yet you were too honourable to give way to my tempting. It was then the idea came to me that if I could only free you from your scruples I'd get my heart's desire. My plan succeeded. But it was born neither out of greed nor ordinary wantonness. If I died tonight I'd die happy in the knowledge that for just a few weeks in my life I had had you for my lover. And you returned my love, Armand. You know you did. Can you not possibly forgive me?'

His heart melted within him. He suddenly felt that during the past quarter of an hour he had behaved towards her like a prig and a brute. Softly he said:

T understand. Yes, I understand. And someone once said, "to understand all is to forgive all", didn't they. Anyway, I take back everything I said just now, and ask your forgiveness for it. Oh, my darling, what can I say to comfort you? It was I who, by putting honour before love, drove you to do as you did. That you should have had the strength and courage to carry through your purpose shows the depth of your feeling for me, and I humbly thank the gods that I should have been blessed with a love so great as yours.'

She lifted her face to his and once more her eyes were shining. Gently, he took her in his arms. They kissed, but with all passion drained from them, as two beings who for a little time had dwelt in heaven together, and, whether or not they met again in this life, would forever remain long-time friends.

Two minutes later he had put on his coat and left her. Down in the hall he found de Cordoba agitatedly pacing up and down. Without a word the Conde led the way into the small library. De Richleau followed him in. From the drawer of a bureau the Conde took an oblong mahogany box. Placing it on the centre table, he opened it, disclosing a pair of silver-mounted duelling pistols and compartments that contained cleaning materials and shot.

'These will serve our purpose,' he said tonelessly. 'Be good enough to take your choice, and put a few bullets in your pocket.'

'Surely,' protested the Duke in astonishment, 'you cannot be suggesting that we should fight here and now.'

'No, down in the private bay. One could hardly find a better place to fight a duel than on its flat, firm sands, and it will take us only a few minutes to walk down there.'

'But . . . But one cannot fight a duel without seconds, and a doctor within call.'

'I see nothing against doing so.'

'There is a great deal,' replied de Richleau promptly. 'However intense your resentment against me, Conde, I beg you to exercise a little patience. Put away these weapons for the time being. Although as the challenged party I have the right of choice I am willing to accept them. But allow me to return to my hotel. Send two of your friends to me there and I will ask two friends of mine to make proper arrangements with them. Then I will meet you at any time or place they may decide.'

De Cordoba shook his head. 'No. We will go down to the shore and settle this matter without delay.'

'But why this unseemly haste, Conde? Why?'

'Because I have no mind to allow witnesses at this affair. You have sullied your honour, but mine remains unbesmirched. How could we fight in the presence of others yet prevent them from talking afterwards? Whatever pretext we might give them for our meeting they would suspect the truth. For you to have reached such a degree of intimacy with Gulia, you must first have been a great deal in her company. It will be said that she betrayed me with you and I found her out. I have the honour of my family to consider, and I refuse to submit to the humiliation of having my Condesa's name bandied about as that of a whore.'

'That is the very last thing I would wish, either for her or for yourself,' the Duke agreed. 'But there are other considerations; and most serious ones. A duel is a duel and, although illegal, if carried out according to accepted traditions no serious notice is taken of it by the authorities. For two men to discharge pistols at one another when alone and, as might emerge later, with a cause for anger, is a very different matter. Should one of them have the misfortune to be killed the other would be accounted guilty of murder.'

'That risk can be overcome,' replied the Conde stubbornly. 'I will leave a note on the hall table for my butler, asking him to have an early breakfast ready for us at seven o'clock, and saying that you and I have gone down to the shore to practise pistol shooting at the seagulls. Then, when it transpires that one of us has been wounded or killed it will be taken as an accident.'

De Richleau shook his head. 'Such an explanation would not bear investigation. Is it likely that on returning from a long absence overseas, and before your household even knows that you are back, you would stroll down to the beach to practise with a pistol? And what am I supposed to have been doing here at this hour?'

'I thought that at least you were a man of courage,' sneered the Conde. 'But your cowardice-is in keeping with the character of a wife-stealer.'

The Duke's face suddenly went white and he said softly, 'You shall pay for that. To insist on this is the act of a fool. You are a fool, too, to have challenged me. I doubt if you could hit a haystack, whereas I could put a bullet through your brain at fifty yards. But you shall have your way. Your blood be on your own head.'

Taking the nearest pistol from the case, he broke it, squinted down its barrel, slipped a few bullets into his pocket, and walked out of the room.

De Cordoba followed him and caught him up. Side by side, maintaining a frigid silence, they walked along the path fringed with pines, tamarisks and myrtle that led down to the beach. The tide was going out and had left a quarter-mile-long stretch of smooth, clean sand. As they reached it and halted, the Conde said:

'I have never before fought a duel, so I must request you to state in detail how we should proceed.'

During their walk down to the shore de Richleau's anger had cooled, and he said quickly, 'Then why fight this one? I know that I have done you a great wrong, but for one of us to wound or kill the other cannot undo that which has been done. Will you not. . .'

'No!' the Conde cut him short. 'One expects a certain frailty in women, and in view of the relations between Gulia and myself I do not blame her overmuch. But men are made of sterner stuff. For you there can be no excuse, and with God's help I hope to punish you for your despicable behaviour.'

'Very well, then. We load our pistols and stand back to back. I will ask you if you are ready. When you reply "Yes", I shall then say the one word, "March". On that we shall both walk ten paces away from one another then turn about face to face. Either of us may fire instantly upon turning, or hold his fire to take more careful aim. Ten paces, you understand. And may I suggest that when you take your stance to fire you should stand sideways, so that your body presents a minimum width of target to me.'

'Thank you. I appreciate the chivalry you display in making that suggestion.'

Having loaded his pistol with the single bullet that the duelling weapon held, de Richleau looked out over the bay. A sick nostalgia seized him as he thought of the many happy hours he had spent there with Gulia. Whatever might be the outcome of the duel he knew that never again would they swim there together or sit side by side talking and laughing on these golden sands. It had been for them an earthly paradise, and now her husband had come back, like an avenging angel with a flaming sword, to drive him out of it for ever.

With a sharp word de Cordoba recalled him to the present. They took up their positions back to back. 'Are you ready?' asked the Duke. 'Yes,' replied the Conde. 'March,' cried de Richleau, and in swift strides each covered his ten paces.

The Duke knew that if de Cordoba took a snap shot at him immediately upon turning, only by an extraordinary fluke could the bullet fail to go wide. Therefore, to have any hope of hitting him at all, the Conde must give at least ten seconds to taking aim. He, on the other hand, was a crack shot. Two seconds would be ample for him to draw a bead on his opponent and fire. In consequence, when walking down to the beach, he had decided to put a quick end to the matter by winging the Conde in his pistol arm before he had a chance to discharge his weapon.

Yet now, at the last moment, he changed his mind. It was he who had wronged the Conde, unwittingly it was true, but that did not alter the fact. And there was always the chance that if he took a snap shot the bullet, instead of lodging in the Conde's arm or shoulder, might ride a trifle high, hit him in the neck, and kill him. When de Richleau recalled how de Cordoba had cared for him like a brother after Angela's death, and the way in which, after he had nearly died in Barcelona, he had been nursed back to health and strength in the villa, he felt that he could not bring himself to injure him, let alone take a chance that might rob him of his life.

Five seconds after the two men turned the Duke fired, but he had deliberately aimed high. The bullet passed a good foot above de Cordoba's head. No longer having anything to fear the Conde took careful aim before pressing the trigger of his pistol, but the bullet whistled harmlessly past his adversary.

The two men walked towards one another and de Richleau said, 'I have given you the opportunity you desired. I trust you are now satisfied.'

'Certainly not!' the Conde replied in a still bitter tone. 'And I shall not be until one of us is too seriously wounded to continue. Let us reload.'

With a resigned shrug the Duke again loaded his pistol. They followed the same procedure as before. Again de Richleau fired high, but this time de Cordpba's bullet tore a little strip of cloth from his coat low down near the thigh.

Grimly he walked back to prepare for the third round. Brave as he was, it required no little courage to stand still and be shot at, and small beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. Yet he felt that there was nothing he could do except pray that he would soon receive an injury which, without being too serious, would be sufficient to satisfy the Conde.

Again they loaded, stood back to back, then marched to their stations. But now, instead of making any pretence of aiming, the Duke turned the point of his pistol straight up and fired into the air.

As the bullet sailed heavenwards de Cordoba lowered his weapon and came striding towards him.

'How dare you?' he cried. 'How dare you? I see now the reason why you have twice missed me. It is because you are not trying. Is not the injury you have done me enough without adding this insult to it? The fact that you happen to be a soldier well practised in arms gives you no right to treat me with contempt as an antagonist.'