IV

[pg 27]IV“I Don't Threaten—I Warn”In the garden I stopped, hiding away a scrap of a lace handkerchief I had stolen; wondering if I had been altogether wrong, yet not able to see what other course had been open.Lingering near the window I saw Lady Vale-Avon go to Monica, and hold the girl by the hand while she talked with Carmona. They spoke only a few words. Then the Duke opened the door, and the two ladies went out, Monica not once looking up.No sooner had they gone than Carmona walked to the window, and seeing me in the glimmering night joined me.“This is my mother's house,”he said in Spanish.“And her garden, you would add,”I answered.“Yes.”“But there's something here that is mine.”“There is nothing here that is yours.”His voice, studiously cold at first, warmed with anger.“It will be mine some day, in spite of—everything.”“You boast, Marqués de Casa Triana.”“No. For Lady Monica Vale has promised to marry me.”Carmona caught his breath on a word by which, if he had not stopped to think, he would have given me the lie. But something restrained him and he laughed instead.“I wouldn't count on the fulfilment of her promise if I were you,”he said.“Lady Monica's a schoolgirl. I would tell you, for your own sake, that the best thing you can do is to forget you ever saw her; but that will be a[pg 28]waste of breath. What I will say is, you'll be wise to leave Biarritz before anything disagreeable happens.”“I intend to leave Biarritz,”I said quietly.“I'm glad to hear it.”“When Lady Monica and her mother leave.”“You intend to persecute these ladies!”“Not at all. But when they go to visit the Duchess of Carmona, that will be—the time I shall choose for leaving Biarritz.”“Who has spoken of such a visit?”“A person I trust.”He was silent for a moment, whether in surprise or anger I could not tell. But at last he said,“I'm less well-informed than your friend as to the plans of Lady Vale-Avon and her daughter. They may return to England; they may go to friends in Paris, they may visit my mother. But this doesn't concern strangers like yourself; and my advice to the Marqués de Casa Triana is,whatever happens, keep out of Spain.”“Do you threaten me?”I asked.“I don't threaten—I warn.”“Thanks for your kind intentions. They give me food for thought.”“All the better. You'll be less likely to forget.”“I shan't forget,”I answered.“Indeed, I shall profit by your advice.”And with that I walked away, putting on my mask.As Romeo had not known at what hour he might wish to leave the house of Capulet, he had ordered neither his own motor-car nor a carriage; but luckily a cab was lingering in the neighbourhood on the chance of a fare. I was glad not to walk to my hotel in the guise of Romeo; and I gained my quarters without meeting curious eyes in the corridors.As I expected, Dick was in our private sitting-room, smoking and reading a novel.“Well, what luck, friend Romeo?”he asked.“Luck, and ill luck,”said I. Then I told the story of the evening.[pg 029]“Humph! you've gone and got yourself into a pretty scrape,”was his comment at the end.“You call it a‘scrape’when by a miracle the sweetest girl alive has fallen in love with you?”“Just that, if the girl isn't old enough to know her own mind, and has a mother who wouldn't let her know it if she could. You've gone so far now, you'll have to go further—”“As far as the end of the world, if necessary.”“Oh! youLatinmen, with your eyes of fire, your boiling passions, and your exaggerated expressions! What do we Yankees and other sensible persons see in you?”“Heaven knows,”said I, shrugging my shoulders.“I doubt it. Why, in the name of common sense, as you'd got to the age of twenty-seven without bothering about love, couldn't you wait till the age of twenty-seven and a quarter, go quietly over to my country with me, a long sight better than the‘end of the world,’and propose to a charming American girl of rational age and plenty of dollars?”“A rational age?”“Over eighteen, anyhow. I believe you Latins have a fancy for these little whiteingénues, who don't know which side their bread's buttered, or how to say anything but‘Yes, please,’and‘No, thank you.’When my time comes, the girl must be twenty-two and a good, patriotic American.”“American girls are fascinating, but I happen to be in love with an English one, and it's her misfortune and mine, not our fault, that she's eighteen instead of twenty-two.”“A big misfortune. You mustn't kidnap an infant. That's what makes it awkward. As I said, you can't back out now.”“Not while I live.”“Don't be so Spanish. But come to think of it, I suppose you can't help that. What do you mean to do next?”“Watch. And get word to Monica.”“Angèle de la Mole will do what she can for you.”“I hope so. Then everything else must depend on the girl.”[pg 030]Dick's lean, tanned face was half quizzical, half sad.“Everything else must depend on the girl,”he repeated.“I wonder what would happen if anybody tried to prop up a hundred pound weight against a lilybud?”[pg 31]VA Mystery Concerning a ChauffeurFor many days after this the young King of Spain motored back and forth between San Sebastian and Biarritz to visit the lady of his love; but at last the two Princesses bade good-bye to the Villa Mouriscot, and went to Paris. Lady Vale-Avon and Monica remained; but for the moment the girl was safe from Carmona, for the Duke followed the King to Madrid.Lovely as Monica was, is, and always will be, and genuinely in love with her as I had no doubt Carmona was, still I began to believe that Dick Waring was right, and that the Duke's desire to win Princess Ena's friend was as much for Court favour as for the girl herself. Several weeks passed, and Monica and her mother continued to be tenants of the Villa Esmeralda. They went out little, except to visit the old Duchess of Carmona, who evidently did all she could to advance her son's interests with invitations to luncheons and dinners; but try as I might I was never able to obtain an interview.Fortunately for me, Lady Vale-Avon had seen me only in fancy dress; the costume of Romeo, with a ridiculous yellow-brown, wavy wig, upon which thecostumierhad insisted against my arguments. Now, I blessed him for his obstinacy; for I was able to pass Lady Vale-Avon in the street without being recognized, and once got near enough to slip into Monica's hand a note I had hastily scribbled on the leaf of a note-book.“Are you willing that I should try my luck again with your mother?”I had written.“If not, will you consent to a[pg 32]runaway marriage with a man who loves you better than his life?”Next day came an answer through Mademoiselle de la Mole.Monica begged that I would not speak to her mother.“She fancies that you have gone away,”the girl wrote.“If you came forward I think she would wire the Duke of Carmona, for she writes to him nearly every day as it is; and she would do everything she could to make me marry him at once. Don't hate me for being a coward. I'm not, except with mother. I can't help it with her. She's different from everyone else. I heard the Duchess saying to her yesterday, that if I were to marry a grandee of Spain, I would be made a lady-in-waiting to the Queen instead of maid of honour; so I know what they're thinking of always. But while mother hopes you have given me up, and that I'm quite good, they will perhaps let me alone.“I wish I dared write to the Princess about you; only, you see, on account of your father and that horrid accident which happened, in Barcelona, she might misunderstand you, and things would be worse than before. But if I find that mother means actually to try and force me, then Iwillgo away with you. Otherwise, I would rather wait, for both our sakes.“When I go back to England, there are some dear cousins of mine who might help us, but it's no use writing. I would have to see and talk to them myself. Anyway, if I were there they'd manage not to let me be married to a foreigner I hate; and you and I could go on being true to each other for a little while, until everything could be arranged.“The worst is, mother doesn't mean to go back to England yet. That's what I'm afraid of, and that she has some plan about which she doesn't mean to talk till the last minute. But she hasn't said anything lately about visiting the Duchess of Carmona in Spain, and I hope she's giving it up. As soon as I hear anything definite I'll somehow let you know. I think I can promise that, though it may be difficult, as mother will never let Angèle and me be alone together for a minute if she can help it. The day[pg 33]after the ball we are having a talk in my room when my mother came, and perhaps guessed I had been telling Angèle things. Since then I haven't been allowed to go to Angèle's; and though Angèle comes to see me, mother always makes some excuse for being with us.”After this letter of Monica's I had at least some idea of how matters stood; and in the circumstances there seemed nothing to do but to be near her, and to wait.It was not until the latter part of March that the Duke of Carmona came back to his mother's villa at Biarritz.His arrival was not announced in the local paper, nevertheless I heard of it; and the day after, Mademoiselle de la Mole sent me another letter from Monica, only a few lines, evidently written in great haste.They were to pay the visit to the Duchess of Carmona in Seville, and were to arrive there in time for the famous ceremonies of Holy Week; that was all she knew. The time of starting was either not decided, or else it was not considered best that she should know too long beforehand.“I'm miserable about going,”wrote the girl;“but what can I do? I used to think it would be glorious to see Spain, but now I'm frightened. I have a horrible feeling that I shall never come back. I know it's too much to ask, and I don't see how you can do it if I do ask, since I can tell you nothing of our plans; but if only,only, you could keep near me, within call, I should be safe. I suppose it's useless to hope for that? Anyway, whatever happens, I shall always love you.”To this I wrote an answer, but Angèle feared she might fail in getting it to her friend. The lease of Lady Vale-Avon's Biarritz villa had just expired, and the mother and daughter were moving to the Duchess of Carmona's for a few days. For some reason, the Duchess had not once invited Angèle to come to her house since the ball. She might not be able to see Monica; and it would be very unsafe to trust to the post.It was on the evening of the day on which I had this news[pg 34]that my chauffeur knocked at the door of our sitting-room at the hotel.“I thought,”said he,“I'd better tell your lordship something which has just happened. It may be of importance; it may be of none.”Now I may as well explain that Peter Ropes is no common chauffeur. He is the son of the old coachman who served my father for many years in England; was groom to my first pony; went abroad with me as handy man; was with me through most of my adventures; when I took up motoring, volunteered to go into a factory and thoroughly learn the gentle art of chauffeuring; and at this time understood an automobile, and loved it, as he understood and loved a horse; he is of my age almost to the day; and I suppose will be with me in some capacity or other till one of us dies. He has a brown face, which might have been carved from a piece of oak; the eyes of a soldier; and never utters a word more than he must.“You said I could go to thepelotathis afternoon,”he continued.“When I came back I went to the garage, and found a strange chauffeur examining your Gloria. I stood at a distance, behind the King of England's car, and watched what he would do. M. Levavasseur, the proprietor of the garage, came in just then, and I inquired in a low voice who the fellow was. He didn't know; but the man had asked for Mr. Trevenna's chauffeur, saying, when he heard I was out, that he was a friend of mine. I gave Levavasseur the hint to keep quiet, and got out of the way myself. Presently the chauffeur walked over to Levavasseur, and said, in French, that he wouldn't wait any longer.”“Well, what then, Ropes?”I asked.“He went away, and I went after him. He didn't see me, and I don't believe he would have known me from Adam if he had. He stopped at another garage, and I thought best not to go in there. But I waited, and after a while a very dark, tall gentleman, who looked Spanish, walked into the garage. Five minutes later he and the chauffeur came out together. They parted at the entrance,[pg 35]and it was the gentleman I followed this time. He went to a large, handsome villa; and a person I met told me it was the Duchess of Carmona's house. That is the reason I thought the thing important.”“But why, exactly?”I persisted, guessing what Ropes would say.“Because I think the gentleman was the Duke of Carmona.”“And if he were?”“I've heard gossip that he's anxious to stand well with the King of Spain. It occurred to me he might have some political interest in trying to learn the real name of Mr. Trevenna, if you pardon my having such a thought. He might have sent his chauffeur to look at your car, and make a report; and if he did, whatever the reason was, it would mean no good to your lordship. I thought you ought to know, and be upon your guard, in case of anything happening.”“Thank you,”I said.“You're right to speak, and it may be you've done me an invaluable service.”Ropes beamed; but having said all he had to say, another word would have been a waste of good material, which he was not the man to squander.[pg 36]VIPuzzle: Find the Car“What do you think it means?”asked Dick, when the chauffeur had gone.“It's just struck me, it may mean that Carmona intends to slip away with his guests in his new automobile, and that he wanted to find out something about my car, what it was like, and so on, in case I got wind of the idea, and followed.”“The identical thing struck me. He wouldn't go spying himself, but sent his chauffeur, a new importation, probably, to have a look at the Gloria and describe it. I wonder how he heard you had one.”“Easy enough to do that. Of course he's found out somehow, perhaps through employing a detective, that Chris Trevenna and Casa Triana are one man. He can't make much use of the knowledge to bother me on this side the frontier, but—”“Yes; a big but.”“It seems pretty certain that his own car must have come, or be coming here, and that he means to use it going into Spain, or he wouldn't have developed this sudden interest in mine.”“It looks like it. Now he knows, if a dark blue Gloria crosses his path, it's the car of the pursuing lover, and—”“I was just thinking that a dark blue Gloria will not cross his path.”“You don't mean—”“I mean that it won't be prudent for either Casa Triana's or Chris Trevenna's car to follow his, wherever he means to go.”[pg 037]“What, you'll give up—”“Is it likely?”“You're getting beyond me.”“What I want is to stay with you, in your car.”“Wish I had one!”said Dick.“You're going to have the loan of one. Would a grey or a red car suit you best?”“I see. Red, please. They say red paint dries quickest.”We both laughed.“Your red car must have new lamps,”I went on,“and a new number, and any other little things that can be put on in a hurry. And you'd better get a passport if you haven't one. Gentlemen touring in foreign lands are sometimes subjected to cross-questionings which might be inconvenient unless they've plenty of red tape up their sleeves.”“I'll lay in a stock. How would you like me to be the accredited correspondent, for the Spanish wedding festivities, of a newspaper or two?”“Rattling good idea. Could you work it?”“Easy as falling off a log, or puncturing a tyre. I'll arrange by telegraph, London and New York.”“Grand old chap.”“Thanks. Better wait till I've done something. What about your part in the show?”“A humble friend, accompanying the important newspaper correspondent in his travels.”“That's all right. But the Trevenna business is played out.”“A new travelling name's as easy to fit as a travelling-coat.”“Not quite, unless you can match it with a new travelling face.”“Luckily Carmona knows Romeo's face better than mine. And, anyhow, a motoring get-up can be next door to a disguise.”“That's true. Behind goggles Apollo hasn't much advantage over Apollyon, and you can develop a moustache. Yes. I think we can work it as far as that goes. But one's always heard that Spanish roads are impossible.”[pg 038]“They'll be no worse for us than for Carmona,”I argued.“Besides, most of the best known books about Spain are out of date. The King has made motoring fashionable lately, and there must have been some attempts to get the roads into passable condition.”“I happened to hear an American who's here with a sixty horse-power Panhard, wanting to go to Seville, say to another fellow that he'd been warned he couldn't get beyond Madrid.”“I've never bothered much about warnings in my life. I've generally gone ahead, and found out things for myself.”“We'll continue on the same lines. And, anyhow, wherever we go, we're sure of a leader; our friend the enemy.”It was next in order to find out whether the Duke really had brought an automobile to Biarritz; but try as we might, we could learn nothing. Inquiries were made at the railway stations, both at Bayonne and Biarritz, as to whether an automobile had lately been shipped through; but as it happened, no car of any description had arrived by rail in either direction during the last fortnight.All the principal garages of Bayonne and Biarritz were visited also, in the hope of finding a mysterious car which might be the Duke of Carmona's; but there was not one of which we could not trace the ownership. We then sent to Bordeaux, and even to St. Jean de Luz; but in both cases our errand was vain. If Carmona had an automobile in the South of France, it was well hidden.As for the chauffeur who had inspected my car, and afterwards met Carmona at another garage, he had disappeared, apparently, into thin air.Nevertheless, Dick and I formed a theory that the new automobile, of which we had heard so many rumours, was actually in Biarritz; that it had been driven into the town after dark, and was now being kept by some friend of Carmona's in a private garage. And if we were right in our conjectures, we felt we might take it as a sure sign that the Duke was not only planning an important[pg 39]tour, but was not forgetting a detail of precaution which could prevent my learning his intentions.As we could not set a watch upon the chauffeur, we set a watch upon the Duke; and it was Ropes who, with considerable relish, undertook the task. I did not wish to bring a stranger into the affair; and Ropes I could trust as I trusted myself. Therefore Ropes it was who unobtrusively dogged Carmona's footsteps from the time the Duke went out in the morning, up to the time he went in again at night.Meanwhile, Dick took steps to become correspondent forThe Daily Despatchof London, andThe New York Recorder, the editors of which papers he knew personally. He spent a great deal of money in wiring long messages, but his reward was success, and, as he said, he was“proud of his job,”which he intended to carry out as faithfully as if writing impressions for newspapers were the business of his life.Also, we got the car repainted; bought lamps of a different sort; ordered side baskets to be attached, of a red to match the new colour; had Dick Waring's monogram, in execrable taste, put on the doors; while last and most important change of all, from being number A12,901, the automobile became, illegally but convincingly, M14,317. Cunningest device of all, Ropes changed the wheel-caps of my Gloria for those of a Frenzel, as like a Gloria as a Fiat is like a Mercédès; so that only an expert of much experience would know that the car was not a Frenzel.A quick dryer was used, and in two days we were ready for anything. I still hoped for a letter from Monica, with some hints as to her mother's plans, but nothing came; and when we had had a blank day, with no news of activity in the enemy's camp, it was a relief to have Ropes arrive at the hotel in the morning just as I was dressed.I knew the moment I saw his face that something exciting had happened.“The Duke's gone, my lord,”he reported;“gone in a dark[pg 40]grey, covered car; I couldn't get near enough to make sure what it was, but it looks like a Lecomte. He's this moment got off.”“Not alone?”“No, my lord. I'll tell you exactly what took place. I was at the window in the little room I hired over a shop three days ago, in sight of the entrance gates of the Villa Isabella. It was just seven o'clock this morning when a smart, big grey car drove in, might be a forty horse, and of the Lecomte type. The chauffeur wore goggles, but his figure was like the fellow's who came the other day to our garage. About half an hour later, out slipped the car again, the Duke driving, a lady sitting beside him, two other ladies in the tonneau, the chauffeur at the Duke's feet, and a good deal of luggage on the roof. At the gate they turned as if to go to San Sebastian; and I came to let you know.”“That's right. Get ready at once for a start, and have the car here as soon as you can.”“Car's ready now, my lord, and so am I.”“Good. But don't‘my lord’me. Now that I'm Mr. George Smith that's even more important to remember than in Trevenna days. And don't forget that the car's Mr. Waring's car.”“I won't forget, sir.”He was off to the garage, and I was knocking at Dick's door.Dick was tying his necktie.“Ready to start in five minutes,”said he.“How did you guess what was up?”“Your face, d'Artagnan.”“Why d'Artagnan? Haven't I a large enough variety of names already?”“I've selected one suitable for the situation. D'Artagnan took upon himself a mission. So have you; and you'll have as many difficulties to overcome before you fulfil it, if you do, as he had.”“Nonsense. We're starting out to keep in touch with another party of motorists.”“In a country forbidden to one of us.”“That one can look out for himself. If a lady in another motor[pg 41]should need someone to stand by her, we're to be on the spot to stand by, that's all.”“Yes; that's all,”said Dick, laughing.“And all that d'Artagnan had to do was to get hold of a few diamond studs which a lady wanted to wear at a ball. Sounds simple, eh? But d'Artagnan had some fun on the way, and I'd bet the last dollar in my pile we will. Hang this necktie! There; I'm ready. Have we time for coffee and a crust?”[pg 42]VIIThe Impudence of Showing a HandkerchiefFifteen minutes later we were off.I love driving my car, as I love the breath of life, and I'm conceited enough to fancy that no one else, not even Ropes, can get out of her what I can. Still, this was not destined to be precisely a pleasure trip, and prudence bade me give the helm to Dick. He is a good enough driver; and the car was his car now; I was but an insignificant passenger, with a case of visiting cards in his pocket, newly engraved with the name of Mr. George Smith. I sat on the front seat beside Dick, however, silently criticising his every move; Ropes was in the tonneau; such luggage as we had, on top.It was scarcely eight o'clock, and there was so little traffic in the town that we did not need to trouble about a legal limit. We slipped swiftly along the rough white road to the railway station, past large villas and green lawns, and took the sharp turn to the right that leads out from the pleasant land of France straight to romantic Spain, the country of my dreams. We sped past houses that looked from their deep sheltering woods upon a silver lake, and away in the distance we caught glimpses of the sea. Before us were graceful, piled mountains, the crenelated mass of Les Trois Couronnes glittering with wintry diamonds. Against the morning sky, stood up, clear and cold, the cone of far La Rune.Looking ahead, in my ears sang the song of my blood, sweet with hope, as the name of the girl I love and the land I love, mingled together in music.Gaining the first outskirts of straggling St. Jean de Luz my[pg 43]eyes and Dick's fell at the same time upon something before us; a big grey automobile, its roof piled with luggage, stationary by the roadside, a chauffeur busy jacking up the driving wheels, a tall man standing to watch the work, his hands in the pockets of his fur coat. Instantly Dick slowed down our car, to lean out as we came within speaking distance, while I sat still, secure from recognition behind elaborately hideous goggles.“Is there anything we can do?”asked Dick with the generosity of an automobilist in full tide of fortune to another in ill fortune. I noticed as he spoke, that he made his American accent as marked as possible; so marked, that it was almost like hoisting the stars and stripes over the transformed and repainted Gloria.“No, thank you,”said Carmona; for it was he who stood in the road looking on while his chauffeur worked. He had glanced up with anxiety and vexation on his ungoggled, dark face, at the first sound of an approaching car, and I knew well what thought sprang into his head. But a red car, with an American driving, was not what he had half expected to see. He was visibly relieved; nevertheless, he was slow enough in answering to bring us to a standstill, while he peered at our wheel-caps.The deceitful name, glittering up to his eyes, so evidently reassured him that a temptation seized me, and I yielded without a struggle.I had come prepared for a quick signal to Monica whenever an opportunity should arise, and, as I was anxious to let her know that she was not unprotected, it seemed to me that the first chance of doing so was better than the second.In an inner breast pocket of my coat I had the lace handkerchief which I had stolen on the night of the ball. As Dick questioned Carmona, and Carmona answered, I flashed out the wisp of lace and passed it across my lips, not turning to look full at the slim, grey-coated figure on the front seat, yet conscious by a side glance that a veiled face regarded us.What I did was done so quickly, that I think it would have[pg 44]passed unnoticed by the Duke; but Monica, taken completely by surprise, bent suddenly forward; then, remembering the need for caution, hurriedly leaned back against the cushions.Carmona caught her nervous movement, saw how self-consciously, almost rigidly, she sat when she had recovered herself, and, suspicion instantly alert, turned a searchlight gaze on us.The lace handkerchief had vanished. I was sitting indifferently, with arms folded, my interest concentrated upon the busy chauffeur. Still I felt there was no detail of my figure and motoring clothes that Carmona was not noting as he explained to Dick the nature of his mishap.“A simple puncture,”he said.“And we have all necessary means to mend it, thank you.”Dick and I lifted our caps to the ladies and went our way; but it was not until we had passed the charming Renaissance house where Louis Quatorze was born, that Waring made any comment on the incident.“If that Moor-faced chap isn't on to the game, he's getting mighty‘warm,’as the children say,”he remarked dryly.“He can't possibly be certain,”said I.“Even if he saw my face, he couldn't swear to identifying it, as the only sight he ever had of me was in that asinine, yellow Romeo wig. Besides, Romeo had no moustache, and, thanks to your advice, I have. It's the one thing that's conspicuous under the goggles.”“A sort of‘coming event casting its shadow before.’I didn't say heknew. I said he guessed. See here, while he's waiting for his tyre, could we wire from this town to the frontier in time to have you stopped?”“We ought to get there before any telegram he could send,”said I, hopefully.“However, there'll be a lot of formalities at the custom-house. They might catch us before we finished. But, uncertain as he must be, it would hardly be worth his while—”“I wouldn't bet much on that,”said Dick.“Let's rush it,”said I.[pg 045]“Too risky. You'd feel such a limp ass to be detained by a fat policeman at the door of Spain, while Carmona and Lady Monica went through, and disappeared.”“I'd shoot the fat policeman first.”“There you are, being Spanish again, just when you ought to develop a little horse-sense.”This put me on my mettle, and in two minutes I had thought out a plan, while Dick whistled and reflected.It was rather an odd plan, and could only be carried out by the aid of another. But that other had never failed me yet, when loyalty or devotion were needed; and I had not got out half the suggestion when he understood all, and begged to do what I had hardly liked to ask.We took exactly eight minutes, by Dick's watch, in making arrangements to meet an emergency which I hoped might not arise if our speed were good and our luck held.Already Hendaye, the last French town, was but just beyond our sight. We ran through it at high speed, passed on through little Béhobie; and next moment our tyres were rolling through a brown mixture of French and Spanish mud on the international bridge that crosses the swirling Bidasoa. We had passed from Gaul to Iberia. At the central iron lamp-post, carrying on one side the“R.F.”of France, on the other the Royal Arms of Spain, I lifted my cap in salutation to my native land, just where, had I been an Englishman, I should have lifted it to memories of grand old Wellington.The broad river was rushing, green and swift, down to Fuenterrabia and the sea, eddying past the little Ile des Faisans, where so much history has been made; where Cardinals treated for royal marriages; where Francis the First, a prisoner, was exchanged for his two sons. We were across the dividing water now, in Irun, and on Spanish soil. High-collared Spanish soldiers lounging by their sentry boxes, looked keenly at us, but made no move, little guessing that the accused bomb-thrower of Barcelona was driving past them through this romantic gate to Spain.[pg 46]We turned abruptly to the right, and, hoping still to escape trouble, pulled up at the custom-house.To hurry a Spanish official, I had often heard my father say, in old days, is a thing impossible, and we avoided an air of anxiety. The three men in the big red car appeared to desire nothing better than to linger in the society of thedouaniers. Nevertheless, the chauffeur was as brisk in his movements as he dared to be.He it was who jumped from the tonneau, and in passable Spanish asked our inquisitor which, if any, of our suit-cases he wished to open. At the same instant a propitiatory cigarette was offered and accepted.Carefully the overcoated man selected with his eye a piece of luggage on the car roof. Luck was with us. It was the one easiest to unlock.In the twinkling of an eye (an American, not a Spanish eye), the thing was down and in the office. Thedouanierwas about to inspect, in his leisured way, when a peasant entered with some bags to be weighed.Naturally the official fell into chat with the new-comer, and it was necessary to remind him that we had the right of precedence. Every moment was of importance, for already there was time for a telegram to have arrived. Presently there would be time for its instructions to be acted on as well. And at this moment I realized, as I had not fully realized before, all that it would mean to me of humiliation and defeat to fail ignominiously on the threshold of my adventure.It was hard to show no impatience as thedouanier'slazy, cigarette-stained hand wandered among the contents of the suit-case. When any article puzzled him, he paused; another precious minute gone. But eventually, having had a safety-razor explained, he was satisfied with the inspection of the luggage, and indicated that it might be replaced. Then came the question of the deposit of money for the car, on entering Spain.Very carefully did the imperturbable official examine each Spanish bank-note we tendered; laboriously did he make out[pg 47]the receipt. Had he meant to detain us, his movements, his words, could not have been more deliberate. How I had longed to hear again the Spanish language spoken by Spaniards in Spain, yet how little was I able to appreciate the fulfilment of my long-cherished wish! At last, however, every formality was complied with, and we were free to go.With all speed we took our man at his word. The leather-coated, leather-legginged chauffeur set the engine's heart going in time with his own, flung himself into the tonneau, and had not shut the door when Waring slipped in the clutch, muttering“Hooray!”Another second and we should have been beyond recall; but hardly was the brake off than it had to go crashing on again to avoid running over a sergeant and two soldiers who rushed up and sprang in front of us, puffing with unwonted haste.In his hand the sergeant held an open telegram.“You speak Spanish?”he panted.“A little,”said Dick.“French better.”“I have no French, señor,”replied the sergeant,“But my business is not so much with you as with this gentleman,”he glanced at the telegram,“in the grey coat with the fur collar, the grey cap, the goggles in a grey felt mask, the small dark moustache, the grey buckskin gloves.”(Carmona had noticed everything.)“Our instructions are to prevent the Marqués de Casa Triana from going into Spain.”“Casa Triana? What do you mean?”cried Dick. Then he laughed.“Is the person you're talking about a Spaniard?”“He is, señor.”Dick laughed a great deal more.“Well, I guess you'll have to look somewhere else. There's a mistake. The gentleman in the grey coat and all the other grey things has hardly enough Spanish to know what you're driving at.”The sergeant shrugged his shoulders and looked determined.“There is no mistake in my instructions, señor. I am sorry, but it is my duty to detain that gentleman. If there is an error there will be apologies.”[pg 048]“I should say there jolly well was an error,”sputtered Dick, in his wild combination of Spanish and English and American.“George, show your card. He thinks you're a Spaniard, who's‘wanted.’”The gentleman in the grey coat showed the visiting cards of Mr. George Smith, and the Spanish soldier examined them gloomily.“Anybody might have these,”said he, half to us, half to a group of his countrymen.“Señor, I must reluctantly ask you to descend and to come with me. It will be much better to do so quietly.”“Of all the monstrous indignities,”shouted Dick.“I'm a newspaper correspondent on a special detail. I'll wire the American minister in Madrid, and the English Ambassador too. I'll—”But the gentleman in the grey coat had obeyed the sergeant. He had also taken off his goggles.“It will be all right in a few hours, or a few days,”said he in English.“You must go on. Don't worry about me.”“Go on without you?”echoed Dick, breaking again into astonishing Spanish for the benefit of the official.“Well, if you really don't mind, as I'm in the dickens of a hurry. You can follow by train, you know, as soon as you've proved to these blunderers that you're George Smith.”“If you are Señor George Smith, you will be free as soon as the photograph of the Marqués de Casa Triana has been sent on by the police at Madrid,”said the sergeant.“If not—”he did not finish his sentence; but the break was significant. And the soldiers closed in to separate the alleged George Smith from his companions of the car, lest at the last moment they should attempt a rescue.“We'll make them sorry for this, George,”said Dick.“But as we really can't do much for you here, we'll get on somewhere else, where we can.”“I must ask also for the name of the owner of this automobile, and for that of his chauffeur,”insisted the sergeant,“before I can let you go.”[pg 049]“Oh, all right,”said Dick, crossly, producing his passport, and cards with the names of the papers for which he had engaged to correspond.“Ropes, fork out your credentials.”The chauffeur brought forth his French papers, and pointed to the name of Peter Ropes. The sergeant industriously wrote down everything in his note-book, a greasy and forbidding one.“It is satisfactory,”he said with dignity;“you can proceed, señores.”The engine had not been stopped during the scene; and as the gentleman in the grey coat was marched off to the guard-house with a jostling Spanish crowd at his heels, the red car in which he had lately been a passenger slipped away and left him behind.Through the streets of Irun it passed at funeral pace, as if in respect and regret for a friend who was lost; but once out in the green, undulating country beyond, it put on a great spurt of speed, after the chauffeur had scrambled into the front seat.“Great Scott, but I'm as hot as if I'd come out of a Turkish bath,”growled Dick.“It was a warm ten minutes,”said I.“Poor old Ropes—bless him!”And I sent back a sigh of gratitude to the staunch friend in my grey overcoat, cap, goggles, and gloves, to whose loyalty I owed freedom.

[pg 27]IV“I Don't Threaten—I Warn”In the garden I stopped, hiding away a scrap of a lace handkerchief I had stolen; wondering if I had been altogether wrong, yet not able to see what other course had been open.Lingering near the window I saw Lady Vale-Avon go to Monica, and hold the girl by the hand while she talked with Carmona. They spoke only a few words. Then the Duke opened the door, and the two ladies went out, Monica not once looking up.No sooner had they gone than Carmona walked to the window, and seeing me in the glimmering night joined me.“This is my mother's house,”he said in Spanish.“And her garden, you would add,”I answered.“Yes.”“But there's something here that is mine.”“There is nothing here that is yours.”His voice, studiously cold at first, warmed with anger.“It will be mine some day, in spite of—everything.”“You boast, Marqués de Casa Triana.”“No. For Lady Monica Vale has promised to marry me.”Carmona caught his breath on a word by which, if he had not stopped to think, he would have given me the lie. But something restrained him and he laughed instead.“I wouldn't count on the fulfilment of her promise if I were you,”he said.“Lady Monica's a schoolgirl. I would tell you, for your own sake, that the best thing you can do is to forget you ever saw her; but that will be a[pg 28]waste of breath. What I will say is, you'll be wise to leave Biarritz before anything disagreeable happens.”“I intend to leave Biarritz,”I said quietly.“I'm glad to hear it.”“When Lady Monica and her mother leave.”“You intend to persecute these ladies!”“Not at all. But when they go to visit the Duchess of Carmona, that will be—the time I shall choose for leaving Biarritz.”“Who has spoken of such a visit?”“A person I trust.”He was silent for a moment, whether in surprise or anger I could not tell. But at last he said,“I'm less well-informed than your friend as to the plans of Lady Vale-Avon and her daughter. They may return to England; they may go to friends in Paris, they may visit my mother. But this doesn't concern strangers like yourself; and my advice to the Marqués de Casa Triana is,whatever happens, keep out of Spain.”“Do you threaten me?”I asked.“I don't threaten—I warn.”“Thanks for your kind intentions. They give me food for thought.”“All the better. You'll be less likely to forget.”“I shan't forget,”I answered.“Indeed, I shall profit by your advice.”And with that I walked away, putting on my mask.As Romeo had not known at what hour he might wish to leave the house of Capulet, he had ordered neither his own motor-car nor a carriage; but luckily a cab was lingering in the neighbourhood on the chance of a fare. I was glad not to walk to my hotel in the guise of Romeo; and I gained my quarters without meeting curious eyes in the corridors.As I expected, Dick was in our private sitting-room, smoking and reading a novel.“Well, what luck, friend Romeo?”he asked.“Luck, and ill luck,”said I. Then I told the story of the evening.[pg 029]“Humph! you've gone and got yourself into a pretty scrape,”was his comment at the end.“You call it a‘scrape’when by a miracle the sweetest girl alive has fallen in love with you?”“Just that, if the girl isn't old enough to know her own mind, and has a mother who wouldn't let her know it if she could. You've gone so far now, you'll have to go further—”“As far as the end of the world, if necessary.”“Oh! youLatinmen, with your eyes of fire, your boiling passions, and your exaggerated expressions! What do we Yankees and other sensible persons see in you?”“Heaven knows,”said I, shrugging my shoulders.“I doubt it. Why, in the name of common sense, as you'd got to the age of twenty-seven without bothering about love, couldn't you wait till the age of twenty-seven and a quarter, go quietly over to my country with me, a long sight better than the‘end of the world,’and propose to a charming American girl of rational age and plenty of dollars?”“A rational age?”“Over eighteen, anyhow. I believe you Latins have a fancy for these little whiteingénues, who don't know which side their bread's buttered, or how to say anything but‘Yes, please,’and‘No, thank you.’When my time comes, the girl must be twenty-two and a good, patriotic American.”“American girls are fascinating, but I happen to be in love with an English one, and it's her misfortune and mine, not our fault, that she's eighteen instead of twenty-two.”“A big misfortune. You mustn't kidnap an infant. That's what makes it awkward. As I said, you can't back out now.”“Not while I live.”“Don't be so Spanish. But come to think of it, I suppose you can't help that. What do you mean to do next?”“Watch. And get word to Monica.”“Angèle de la Mole will do what she can for you.”“I hope so. Then everything else must depend on the girl.”[pg 030]Dick's lean, tanned face was half quizzical, half sad.“Everything else must depend on the girl,”he repeated.“I wonder what would happen if anybody tried to prop up a hundred pound weight against a lilybud?”[pg 31]VA Mystery Concerning a ChauffeurFor many days after this the young King of Spain motored back and forth between San Sebastian and Biarritz to visit the lady of his love; but at last the two Princesses bade good-bye to the Villa Mouriscot, and went to Paris. Lady Vale-Avon and Monica remained; but for the moment the girl was safe from Carmona, for the Duke followed the King to Madrid.Lovely as Monica was, is, and always will be, and genuinely in love with her as I had no doubt Carmona was, still I began to believe that Dick Waring was right, and that the Duke's desire to win Princess Ena's friend was as much for Court favour as for the girl herself. Several weeks passed, and Monica and her mother continued to be tenants of the Villa Esmeralda. They went out little, except to visit the old Duchess of Carmona, who evidently did all she could to advance her son's interests with invitations to luncheons and dinners; but try as I might I was never able to obtain an interview.Fortunately for me, Lady Vale-Avon had seen me only in fancy dress; the costume of Romeo, with a ridiculous yellow-brown, wavy wig, upon which thecostumierhad insisted against my arguments. Now, I blessed him for his obstinacy; for I was able to pass Lady Vale-Avon in the street without being recognized, and once got near enough to slip into Monica's hand a note I had hastily scribbled on the leaf of a note-book.“Are you willing that I should try my luck again with your mother?”I had written.“If not, will you consent to a[pg 32]runaway marriage with a man who loves you better than his life?”Next day came an answer through Mademoiselle de la Mole.Monica begged that I would not speak to her mother.“She fancies that you have gone away,”the girl wrote.“If you came forward I think she would wire the Duke of Carmona, for she writes to him nearly every day as it is; and she would do everything she could to make me marry him at once. Don't hate me for being a coward. I'm not, except with mother. I can't help it with her. She's different from everyone else. I heard the Duchess saying to her yesterday, that if I were to marry a grandee of Spain, I would be made a lady-in-waiting to the Queen instead of maid of honour; so I know what they're thinking of always. But while mother hopes you have given me up, and that I'm quite good, they will perhaps let me alone.“I wish I dared write to the Princess about you; only, you see, on account of your father and that horrid accident which happened, in Barcelona, she might misunderstand you, and things would be worse than before. But if I find that mother means actually to try and force me, then Iwillgo away with you. Otherwise, I would rather wait, for both our sakes.“When I go back to England, there are some dear cousins of mine who might help us, but it's no use writing. I would have to see and talk to them myself. Anyway, if I were there they'd manage not to let me be married to a foreigner I hate; and you and I could go on being true to each other for a little while, until everything could be arranged.“The worst is, mother doesn't mean to go back to England yet. That's what I'm afraid of, and that she has some plan about which she doesn't mean to talk till the last minute. But she hasn't said anything lately about visiting the Duchess of Carmona in Spain, and I hope she's giving it up. As soon as I hear anything definite I'll somehow let you know. I think I can promise that, though it may be difficult, as mother will never let Angèle and me be alone together for a minute if she can help it. The day[pg 33]after the ball we are having a talk in my room when my mother came, and perhaps guessed I had been telling Angèle things. Since then I haven't been allowed to go to Angèle's; and though Angèle comes to see me, mother always makes some excuse for being with us.”After this letter of Monica's I had at least some idea of how matters stood; and in the circumstances there seemed nothing to do but to be near her, and to wait.It was not until the latter part of March that the Duke of Carmona came back to his mother's villa at Biarritz.His arrival was not announced in the local paper, nevertheless I heard of it; and the day after, Mademoiselle de la Mole sent me another letter from Monica, only a few lines, evidently written in great haste.They were to pay the visit to the Duchess of Carmona in Seville, and were to arrive there in time for the famous ceremonies of Holy Week; that was all she knew. The time of starting was either not decided, or else it was not considered best that she should know too long beforehand.“I'm miserable about going,”wrote the girl;“but what can I do? I used to think it would be glorious to see Spain, but now I'm frightened. I have a horrible feeling that I shall never come back. I know it's too much to ask, and I don't see how you can do it if I do ask, since I can tell you nothing of our plans; but if only,only, you could keep near me, within call, I should be safe. I suppose it's useless to hope for that? Anyway, whatever happens, I shall always love you.”To this I wrote an answer, but Angèle feared she might fail in getting it to her friend. The lease of Lady Vale-Avon's Biarritz villa had just expired, and the mother and daughter were moving to the Duchess of Carmona's for a few days. For some reason, the Duchess had not once invited Angèle to come to her house since the ball. She might not be able to see Monica; and it would be very unsafe to trust to the post.It was on the evening of the day on which I had this news[pg 34]that my chauffeur knocked at the door of our sitting-room at the hotel.“I thought,”said he,“I'd better tell your lordship something which has just happened. It may be of importance; it may be of none.”Now I may as well explain that Peter Ropes is no common chauffeur. He is the son of the old coachman who served my father for many years in England; was groom to my first pony; went abroad with me as handy man; was with me through most of my adventures; when I took up motoring, volunteered to go into a factory and thoroughly learn the gentle art of chauffeuring; and at this time understood an automobile, and loved it, as he understood and loved a horse; he is of my age almost to the day; and I suppose will be with me in some capacity or other till one of us dies. He has a brown face, which might have been carved from a piece of oak; the eyes of a soldier; and never utters a word more than he must.“You said I could go to thepelotathis afternoon,”he continued.“When I came back I went to the garage, and found a strange chauffeur examining your Gloria. I stood at a distance, behind the King of England's car, and watched what he would do. M. Levavasseur, the proprietor of the garage, came in just then, and I inquired in a low voice who the fellow was. He didn't know; but the man had asked for Mr. Trevenna's chauffeur, saying, when he heard I was out, that he was a friend of mine. I gave Levavasseur the hint to keep quiet, and got out of the way myself. Presently the chauffeur walked over to Levavasseur, and said, in French, that he wouldn't wait any longer.”“Well, what then, Ropes?”I asked.“He went away, and I went after him. He didn't see me, and I don't believe he would have known me from Adam if he had. He stopped at another garage, and I thought best not to go in there. But I waited, and after a while a very dark, tall gentleman, who looked Spanish, walked into the garage. Five minutes later he and the chauffeur came out together. They parted at the entrance,[pg 35]and it was the gentleman I followed this time. He went to a large, handsome villa; and a person I met told me it was the Duchess of Carmona's house. That is the reason I thought the thing important.”“But why, exactly?”I persisted, guessing what Ropes would say.“Because I think the gentleman was the Duke of Carmona.”“And if he were?”“I've heard gossip that he's anxious to stand well with the King of Spain. It occurred to me he might have some political interest in trying to learn the real name of Mr. Trevenna, if you pardon my having such a thought. He might have sent his chauffeur to look at your car, and make a report; and if he did, whatever the reason was, it would mean no good to your lordship. I thought you ought to know, and be upon your guard, in case of anything happening.”“Thank you,”I said.“You're right to speak, and it may be you've done me an invaluable service.”Ropes beamed; but having said all he had to say, another word would have been a waste of good material, which he was not the man to squander.[pg 36]VIPuzzle: Find the Car“What do you think it means?”asked Dick, when the chauffeur had gone.“It's just struck me, it may mean that Carmona intends to slip away with his guests in his new automobile, and that he wanted to find out something about my car, what it was like, and so on, in case I got wind of the idea, and followed.”“The identical thing struck me. He wouldn't go spying himself, but sent his chauffeur, a new importation, probably, to have a look at the Gloria and describe it. I wonder how he heard you had one.”“Easy enough to do that. Of course he's found out somehow, perhaps through employing a detective, that Chris Trevenna and Casa Triana are one man. He can't make much use of the knowledge to bother me on this side the frontier, but—”“Yes; a big but.”“It seems pretty certain that his own car must have come, or be coming here, and that he means to use it going into Spain, or he wouldn't have developed this sudden interest in mine.”“It looks like it. Now he knows, if a dark blue Gloria crosses his path, it's the car of the pursuing lover, and—”“I was just thinking that a dark blue Gloria will not cross his path.”“You don't mean—”“I mean that it won't be prudent for either Casa Triana's or Chris Trevenna's car to follow his, wherever he means to go.”[pg 037]“What, you'll give up—”“Is it likely?”“You're getting beyond me.”“What I want is to stay with you, in your car.”“Wish I had one!”said Dick.“You're going to have the loan of one. Would a grey or a red car suit you best?”“I see. Red, please. They say red paint dries quickest.”We both laughed.“Your red car must have new lamps,”I went on,“and a new number, and any other little things that can be put on in a hurry. And you'd better get a passport if you haven't one. Gentlemen touring in foreign lands are sometimes subjected to cross-questionings which might be inconvenient unless they've plenty of red tape up their sleeves.”“I'll lay in a stock. How would you like me to be the accredited correspondent, for the Spanish wedding festivities, of a newspaper or two?”“Rattling good idea. Could you work it?”“Easy as falling off a log, or puncturing a tyre. I'll arrange by telegraph, London and New York.”“Grand old chap.”“Thanks. Better wait till I've done something. What about your part in the show?”“A humble friend, accompanying the important newspaper correspondent in his travels.”“That's all right. But the Trevenna business is played out.”“A new travelling name's as easy to fit as a travelling-coat.”“Not quite, unless you can match it with a new travelling face.”“Luckily Carmona knows Romeo's face better than mine. And, anyhow, a motoring get-up can be next door to a disguise.”“That's true. Behind goggles Apollo hasn't much advantage over Apollyon, and you can develop a moustache. Yes. I think we can work it as far as that goes. But one's always heard that Spanish roads are impossible.”[pg 038]“They'll be no worse for us than for Carmona,”I argued.“Besides, most of the best known books about Spain are out of date. The King has made motoring fashionable lately, and there must have been some attempts to get the roads into passable condition.”“I happened to hear an American who's here with a sixty horse-power Panhard, wanting to go to Seville, say to another fellow that he'd been warned he couldn't get beyond Madrid.”“I've never bothered much about warnings in my life. I've generally gone ahead, and found out things for myself.”“We'll continue on the same lines. And, anyhow, wherever we go, we're sure of a leader; our friend the enemy.”It was next in order to find out whether the Duke really had brought an automobile to Biarritz; but try as we might, we could learn nothing. Inquiries were made at the railway stations, both at Bayonne and Biarritz, as to whether an automobile had lately been shipped through; but as it happened, no car of any description had arrived by rail in either direction during the last fortnight.All the principal garages of Bayonne and Biarritz were visited also, in the hope of finding a mysterious car which might be the Duke of Carmona's; but there was not one of which we could not trace the ownership. We then sent to Bordeaux, and even to St. Jean de Luz; but in both cases our errand was vain. If Carmona had an automobile in the South of France, it was well hidden.As for the chauffeur who had inspected my car, and afterwards met Carmona at another garage, he had disappeared, apparently, into thin air.Nevertheless, Dick and I formed a theory that the new automobile, of which we had heard so many rumours, was actually in Biarritz; that it had been driven into the town after dark, and was now being kept by some friend of Carmona's in a private garage. And if we were right in our conjectures, we felt we might take it as a sure sign that the Duke was not only planning an important[pg 39]tour, but was not forgetting a detail of precaution which could prevent my learning his intentions.As we could not set a watch upon the chauffeur, we set a watch upon the Duke; and it was Ropes who, with considerable relish, undertook the task. I did not wish to bring a stranger into the affair; and Ropes I could trust as I trusted myself. Therefore Ropes it was who unobtrusively dogged Carmona's footsteps from the time the Duke went out in the morning, up to the time he went in again at night.Meanwhile, Dick took steps to become correspondent forThe Daily Despatchof London, andThe New York Recorder, the editors of which papers he knew personally. He spent a great deal of money in wiring long messages, but his reward was success, and, as he said, he was“proud of his job,”which he intended to carry out as faithfully as if writing impressions for newspapers were the business of his life.Also, we got the car repainted; bought lamps of a different sort; ordered side baskets to be attached, of a red to match the new colour; had Dick Waring's monogram, in execrable taste, put on the doors; while last and most important change of all, from being number A12,901, the automobile became, illegally but convincingly, M14,317. Cunningest device of all, Ropes changed the wheel-caps of my Gloria for those of a Frenzel, as like a Gloria as a Fiat is like a Mercédès; so that only an expert of much experience would know that the car was not a Frenzel.A quick dryer was used, and in two days we were ready for anything. I still hoped for a letter from Monica, with some hints as to her mother's plans, but nothing came; and when we had had a blank day, with no news of activity in the enemy's camp, it was a relief to have Ropes arrive at the hotel in the morning just as I was dressed.I knew the moment I saw his face that something exciting had happened.“The Duke's gone, my lord,”he reported;“gone in a dark[pg 40]grey, covered car; I couldn't get near enough to make sure what it was, but it looks like a Lecomte. He's this moment got off.”“Not alone?”“No, my lord. I'll tell you exactly what took place. I was at the window in the little room I hired over a shop three days ago, in sight of the entrance gates of the Villa Isabella. It was just seven o'clock this morning when a smart, big grey car drove in, might be a forty horse, and of the Lecomte type. The chauffeur wore goggles, but his figure was like the fellow's who came the other day to our garage. About half an hour later, out slipped the car again, the Duke driving, a lady sitting beside him, two other ladies in the tonneau, the chauffeur at the Duke's feet, and a good deal of luggage on the roof. At the gate they turned as if to go to San Sebastian; and I came to let you know.”“That's right. Get ready at once for a start, and have the car here as soon as you can.”“Car's ready now, my lord, and so am I.”“Good. But don't‘my lord’me. Now that I'm Mr. George Smith that's even more important to remember than in Trevenna days. And don't forget that the car's Mr. Waring's car.”“I won't forget, sir.”He was off to the garage, and I was knocking at Dick's door.Dick was tying his necktie.“Ready to start in five minutes,”said he.“How did you guess what was up?”“Your face, d'Artagnan.”“Why d'Artagnan? Haven't I a large enough variety of names already?”“I've selected one suitable for the situation. D'Artagnan took upon himself a mission. So have you; and you'll have as many difficulties to overcome before you fulfil it, if you do, as he had.”“Nonsense. We're starting out to keep in touch with another party of motorists.”“In a country forbidden to one of us.”“That one can look out for himself. If a lady in another motor[pg 41]should need someone to stand by her, we're to be on the spot to stand by, that's all.”“Yes; that's all,”said Dick, laughing.“And all that d'Artagnan had to do was to get hold of a few diamond studs which a lady wanted to wear at a ball. Sounds simple, eh? But d'Artagnan had some fun on the way, and I'd bet the last dollar in my pile we will. Hang this necktie! There; I'm ready. Have we time for coffee and a crust?”[pg 42]VIIThe Impudence of Showing a HandkerchiefFifteen minutes later we were off.I love driving my car, as I love the breath of life, and I'm conceited enough to fancy that no one else, not even Ropes, can get out of her what I can. Still, this was not destined to be precisely a pleasure trip, and prudence bade me give the helm to Dick. He is a good enough driver; and the car was his car now; I was but an insignificant passenger, with a case of visiting cards in his pocket, newly engraved with the name of Mr. George Smith. I sat on the front seat beside Dick, however, silently criticising his every move; Ropes was in the tonneau; such luggage as we had, on top.It was scarcely eight o'clock, and there was so little traffic in the town that we did not need to trouble about a legal limit. We slipped swiftly along the rough white road to the railway station, past large villas and green lawns, and took the sharp turn to the right that leads out from the pleasant land of France straight to romantic Spain, the country of my dreams. We sped past houses that looked from their deep sheltering woods upon a silver lake, and away in the distance we caught glimpses of the sea. Before us were graceful, piled mountains, the crenelated mass of Les Trois Couronnes glittering with wintry diamonds. Against the morning sky, stood up, clear and cold, the cone of far La Rune.Looking ahead, in my ears sang the song of my blood, sweet with hope, as the name of the girl I love and the land I love, mingled together in music.Gaining the first outskirts of straggling St. Jean de Luz my[pg 43]eyes and Dick's fell at the same time upon something before us; a big grey automobile, its roof piled with luggage, stationary by the roadside, a chauffeur busy jacking up the driving wheels, a tall man standing to watch the work, his hands in the pockets of his fur coat. Instantly Dick slowed down our car, to lean out as we came within speaking distance, while I sat still, secure from recognition behind elaborately hideous goggles.“Is there anything we can do?”asked Dick with the generosity of an automobilist in full tide of fortune to another in ill fortune. I noticed as he spoke, that he made his American accent as marked as possible; so marked, that it was almost like hoisting the stars and stripes over the transformed and repainted Gloria.“No, thank you,”said Carmona; for it was he who stood in the road looking on while his chauffeur worked. He had glanced up with anxiety and vexation on his ungoggled, dark face, at the first sound of an approaching car, and I knew well what thought sprang into his head. But a red car, with an American driving, was not what he had half expected to see. He was visibly relieved; nevertheless, he was slow enough in answering to bring us to a standstill, while he peered at our wheel-caps.The deceitful name, glittering up to his eyes, so evidently reassured him that a temptation seized me, and I yielded without a struggle.I had come prepared for a quick signal to Monica whenever an opportunity should arise, and, as I was anxious to let her know that she was not unprotected, it seemed to me that the first chance of doing so was better than the second.In an inner breast pocket of my coat I had the lace handkerchief which I had stolen on the night of the ball. As Dick questioned Carmona, and Carmona answered, I flashed out the wisp of lace and passed it across my lips, not turning to look full at the slim, grey-coated figure on the front seat, yet conscious by a side glance that a veiled face regarded us.What I did was done so quickly, that I think it would have[pg 44]passed unnoticed by the Duke; but Monica, taken completely by surprise, bent suddenly forward; then, remembering the need for caution, hurriedly leaned back against the cushions.Carmona caught her nervous movement, saw how self-consciously, almost rigidly, she sat when she had recovered herself, and, suspicion instantly alert, turned a searchlight gaze on us.The lace handkerchief had vanished. I was sitting indifferently, with arms folded, my interest concentrated upon the busy chauffeur. Still I felt there was no detail of my figure and motoring clothes that Carmona was not noting as he explained to Dick the nature of his mishap.“A simple puncture,”he said.“And we have all necessary means to mend it, thank you.”Dick and I lifted our caps to the ladies and went our way; but it was not until we had passed the charming Renaissance house where Louis Quatorze was born, that Waring made any comment on the incident.“If that Moor-faced chap isn't on to the game, he's getting mighty‘warm,’as the children say,”he remarked dryly.“He can't possibly be certain,”said I.“Even if he saw my face, he couldn't swear to identifying it, as the only sight he ever had of me was in that asinine, yellow Romeo wig. Besides, Romeo had no moustache, and, thanks to your advice, I have. It's the one thing that's conspicuous under the goggles.”“A sort of‘coming event casting its shadow before.’I didn't say heknew. I said he guessed. See here, while he's waiting for his tyre, could we wire from this town to the frontier in time to have you stopped?”“We ought to get there before any telegram he could send,”said I, hopefully.“However, there'll be a lot of formalities at the custom-house. They might catch us before we finished. But, uncertain as he must be, it would hardly be worth his while—”“I wouldn't bet much on that,”said Dick.“Let's rush it,”said I.[pg 045]“Too risky. You'd feel such a limp ass to be detained by a fat policeman at the door of Spain, while Carmona and Lady Monica went through, and disappeared.”“I'd shoot the fat policeman first.”“There you are, being Spanish again, just when you ought to develop a little horse-sense.”This put me on my mettle, and in two minutes I had thought out a plan, while Dick whistled and reflected.It was rather an odd plan, and could only be carried out by the aid of another. But that other had never failed me yet, when loyalty or devotion were needed; and I had not got out half the suggestion when he understood all, and begged to do what I had hardly liked to ask.We took exactly eight minutes, by Dick's watch, in making arrangements to meet an emergency which I hoped might not arise if our speed were good and our luck held.Already Hendaye, the last French town, was but just beyond our sight. We ran through it at high speed, passed on through little Béhobie; and next moment our tyres were rolling through a brown mixture of French and Spanish mud on the international bridge that crosses the swirling Bidasoa. We had passed from Gaul to Iberia. At the central iron lamp-post, carrying on one side the“R.F.”of France, on the other the Royal Arms of Spain, I lifted my cap in salutation to my native land, just where, had I been an Englishman, I should have lifted it to memories of grand old Wellington.The broad river was rushing, green and swift, down to Fuenterrabia and the sea, eddying past the little Ile des Faisans, where so much history has been made; where Cardinals treated for royal marriages; where Francis the First, a prisoner, was exchanged for his two sons. We were across the dividing water now, in Irun, and on Spanish soil. High-collared Spanish soldiers lounging by their sentry boxes, looked keenly at us, but made no move, little guessing that the accused bomb-thrower of Barcelona was driving past them through this romantic gate to Spain.[pg 46]We turned abruptly to the right, and, hoping still to escape trouble, pulled up at the custom-house.To hurry a Spanish official, I had often heard my father say, in old days, is a thing impossible, and we avoided an air of anxiety. The three men in the big red car appeared to desire nothing better than to linger in the society of thedouaniers. Nevertheless, the chauffeur was as brisk in his movements as he dared to be.He it was who jumped from the tonneau, and in passable Spanish asked our inquisitor which, if any, of our suit-cases he wished to open. At the same instant a propitiatory cigarette was offered and accepted.Carefully the overcoated man selected with his eye a piece of luggage on the car roof. Luck was with us. It was the one easiest to unlock.In the twinkling of an eye (an American, not a Spanish eye), the thing was down and in the office. Thedouanierwas about to inspect, in his leisured way, when a peasant entered with some bags to be weighed.Naturally the official fell into chat with the new-comer, and it was necessary to remind him that we had the right of precedence. Every moment was of importance, for already there was time for a telegram to have arrived. Presently there would be time for its instructions to be acted on as well. And at this moment I realized, as I had not fully realized before, all that it would mean to me of humiliation and defeat to fail ignominiously on the threshold of my adventure.It was hard to show no impatience as thedouanier'slazy, cigarette-stained hand wandered among the contents of the suit-case. When any article puzzled him, he paused; another precious minute gone. But eventually, having had a safety-razor explained, he was satisfied with the inspection of the luggage, and indicated that it might be replaced. Then came the question of the deposit of money for the car, on entering Spain.Very carefully did the imperturbable official examine each Spanish bank-note we tendered; laboriously did he make out[pg 47]the receipt. Had he meant to detain us, his movements, his words, could not have been more deliberate. How I had longed to hear again the Spanish language spoken by Spaniards in Spain, yet how little was I able to appreciate the fulfilment of my long-cherished wish! At last, however, every formality was complied with, and we were free to go.With all speed we took our man at his word. The leather-coated, leather-legginged chauffeur set the engine's heart going in time with his own, flung himself into the tonneau, and had not shut the door when Waring slipped in the clutch, muttering“Hooray!”Another second and we should have been beyond recall; but hardly was the brake off than it had to go crashing on again to avoid running over a sergeant and two soldiers who rushed up and sprang in front of us, puffing with unwonted haste.In his hand the sergeant held an open telegram.“You speak Spanish?”he panted.“A little,”said Dick.“French better.”“I have no French, señor,”replied the sergeant,“But my business is not so much with you as with this gentleman,”he glanced at the telegram,“in the grey coat with the fur collar, the grey cap, the goggles in a grey felt mask, the small dark moustache, the grey buckskin gloves.”(Carmona had noticed everything.)“Our instructions are to prevent the Marqués de Casa Triana from going into Spain.”“Casa Triana? What do you mean?”cried Dick. Then he laughed.“Is the person you're talking about a Spaniard?”“He is, señor.”Dick laughed a great deal more.“Well, I guess you'll have to look somewhere else. There's a mistake. The gentleman in the grey coat and all the other grey things has hardly enough Spanish to know what you're driving at.”The sergeant shrugged his shoulders and looked determined.“There is no mistake in my instructions, señor. I am sorry, but it is my duty to detain that gentleman. If there is an error there will be apologies.”[pg 048]“I should say there jolly well was an error,”sputtered Dick, in his wild combination of Spanish and English and American.“George, show your card. He thinks you're a Spaniard, who's‘wanted.’”The gentleman in the grey coat showed the visiting cards of Mr. George Smith, and the Spanish soldier examined them gloomily.“Anybody might have these,”said he, half to us, half to a group of his countrymen.“Señor, I must reluctantly ask you to descend and to come with me. It will be much better to do so quietly.”“Of all the monstrous indignities,”shouted Dick.“I'm a newspaper correspondent on a special detail. I'll wire the American minister in Madrid, and the English Ambassador too. I'll—”But the gentleman in the grey coat had obeyed the sergeant. He had also taken off his goggles.“It will be all right in a few hours, or a few days,”said he in English.“You must go on. Don't worry about me.”“Go on without you?”echoed Dick, breaking again into astonishing Spanish for the benefit of the official.“Well, if you really don't mind, as I'm in the dickens of a hurry. You can follow by train, you know, as soon as you've proved to these blunderers that you're George Smith.”“If you are Señor George Smith, you will be free as soon as the photograph of the Marqués de Casa Triana has been sent on by the police at Madrid,”said the sergeant.“If not—”he did not finish his sentence; but the break was significant. And the soldiers closed in to separate the alleged George Smith from his companions of the car, lest at the last moment they should attempt a rescue.“We'll make them sorry for this, George,”said Dick.“But as we really can't do much for you here, we'll get on somewhere else, where we can.”“I must ask also for the name of the owner of this automobile, and for that of his chauffeur,”insisted the sergeant,“before I can let you go.”[pg 049]“Oh, all right,”said Dick, crossly, producing his passport, and cards with the names of the papers for which he had engaged to correspond.“Ropes, fork out your credentials.”The chauffeur brought forth his French papers, and pointed to the name of Peter Ropes. The sergeant industriously wrote down everything in his note-book, a greasy and forbidding one.“It is satisfactory,”he said with dignity;“you can proceed, señores.”The engine had not been stopped during the scene; and as the gentleman in the grey coat was marched off to the guard-house with a jostling Spanish crowd at his heels, the red car in which he had lately been a passenger slipped away and left him behind.Through the streets of Irun it passed at funeral pace, as if in respect and regret for a friend who was lost; but once out in the green, undulating country beyond, it put on a great spurt of speed, after the chauffeur had scrambled into the front seat.“Great Scott, but I'm as hot as if I'd come out of a Turkish bath,”growled Dick.“It was a warm ten minutes,”said I.“Poor old Ropes—bless him!”And I sent back a sigh of gratitude to the staunch friend in my grey overcoat, cap, goggles, and gloves, to whose loyalty I owed freedom.

[pg 27]IV“I Don't Threaten—I Warn”In the garden I stopped, hiding away a scrap of a lace handkerchief I had stolen; wondering if I had been altogether wrong, yet not able to see what other course had been open.Lingering near the window I saw Lady Vale-Avon go to Monica, and hold the girl by the hand while she talked with Carmona. They spoke only a few words. Then the Duke opened the door, and the two ladies went out, Monica not once looking up.No sooner had they gone than Carmona walked to the window, and seeing me in the glimmering night joined me.“This is my mother's house,”he said in Spanish.“And her garden, you would add,”I answered.“Yes.”“But there's something here that is mine.”“There is nothing here that is yours.”His voice, studiously cold at first, warmed with anger.“It will be mine some day, in spite of—everything.”“You boast, Marqués de Casa Triana.”“No. For Lady Monica Vale has promised to marry me.”Carmona caught his breath on a word by which, if he had not stopped to think, he would have given me the lie. But something restrained him and he laughed instead.“I wouldn't count on the fulfilment of her promise if I were you,”he said.“Lady Monica's a schoolgirl. I would tell you, for your own sake, that the best thing you can do is to forget you ever saw her; but that will be a[pg 28]waste of breath. What I will say is, you'll be wise to leave Biarritz before anything disagreeable happens.”“I intend to leave Biarritz,”I said quietly.“I'm glad to hear it.”“When Lady Monica and her mother leave.”“You intend to persecute these ladies!”“Not at all. But when they go to visit the Duchess of Carmona, that will be—the time I shall choose for leaving Biarritz.”“Who has spoken of such a visit?”“A person I trust.”He was silent for a moment, whether in surprise or anger I could not tell. But at last he said,“I'm less well-informed than your friend as to the plans of Lady Vale-Avon and her daughter. They may return to England; they may go to friends in Paris, they may visit my mother. But this doesn't concern strangers like yourself; and my advice to the Marqués de Casa Triana is,whatever happens, keep out of Spain.”“Do you threaten me?”I asked.“I don't threaten—I warn.”“Thanks for your kind intentions. They give me food for thought.”“All the better. You'll be less likely to forget.”“I shan't forget,”I answered.“Indeed, I shall profit by your advice.”And with that I walked away, putting on my mask.As Romeo had not known at what hour he might wish to leave the house of Capulet, he had ordered neither his own motor-car nor a carriage; but luckily a cab was lingering in the neighbourhood on the chance of a fare. I was glad not to walk to my hotel in the guise of Romeo; and I gained my quarters without meeting curious eyes in the corridors.As I expected, Dick was in our private sitting-room, smoking and reading a novel.“Well, what luck, friend Romeo?”he asked.“Luck, and ill luck,”said I. Then I told the story of the evening.[pg 029]“Humph! you've gone and got yourself into a pretty scrape,”was his comment at the end.“You call it a‘scrape’when by a miracle the sweetest girl alive has fallen in love with you?”“Just that, if the girl isn't old enough to know her own mind, and has a mother who wouldn't let her know it if she could. You've gone so far now, you'll have to go further—”“As far as the end of the world, if necessary.”“Oh! youLatinmen, with your eyes of fire, your boiling passions, and your exaggerated expressions! What do we Yankees and other sensible persons see in you?”“Heaven knows,”said I, shrugging my shoulders.“I doubt it. Why, in the name of common sense, as you'd got to the age of twenty-seven without bothering about love, couldn't you wait till the age of twenty-seven and a quarter, go quietly over to my country with me, a long sight better than the‘end of the world,’and propose to a charming American girl of rational age and plenty of dollars?”“A rational age?”“Over eighteen, anyhow. I believe you Latins have a fancy for these little whiteingénues, who don't know which side their bread's buttered, or how to say anything but‘Yes, please,’and‘No, thank you.’When my time comes, the girl must be twenty-two and a good, patriotic American.”“American girls are fascinating, but I happen to be in love with an English one, and it's her misfortune and mine, not our fault, that she's eighteen instead of twenty-two.”“A big misfortune. You mustn't kidnap an infant. That's what makes it awkward. As I said, you can't back out now.”“Not while I live.”“Don't be so Spanish. But come to think of it, I suppose you can't help that. What do you mean to do next?”“Watch. And get word to Monica.”“Angèle de la Mole will do what she can for you.”“I hope so. Then everything else must depend on the girl.”[pg 030]Dick's lean, tanned face was half quizzical, half sad.“Everything else must depend on the girl,”he repeated.“I wonder what would happen if anybody tried to prop up a hundred pound weight against a lilybud?”

In the garden I stopped, hiding away a scrap of a lace handkerchief I had stolen; wondering if I had been altogether wrong, yet not able to see what other course had been open.

Lingering near the window I saw Lady Vale-Avon go to Monica, and hold the girl by the hand while she talked with Carmona. They spoke only a few words. Then the Duke opened the door, and the two ladies went out, Monica not once looking up.

No sooner had they gone than Carmona walked to the window, and seeing me in the glimmering night joined me.

“This is my mother's house,”he said in Spanish.

“And her garden, you would add,”I answered.

“Yes.”

“But there's something here that is mine.”

“There is nothing here that is yours.”His voice, studiously cold at first, warmed with anger.

“It will be mine some day, in spite of—everything.”

“You boast, Marqués de Casa Triana.”

“No. For Lady Monica Vale has promised to marry me.”

Carmona caught his breath on a word by which, if he had not stopped to think, he would have given me the lie. But something restrained him and he laughed instead.“I wouldn't count on the fulfilment of her promise if I were you,”he said.“Lady Monica's a schoolgirl. I would tell you, for your own sake, that the best thing you can do is to forget you ever saw her; but that will be a[pg 28]waste of breath. What I will say is, you'll be wise to leave Biarritz before anything disagreeable happens.”

“I intend to leave Biarritz,”I said quietly.

“I'm glad to hear it.”

“When Lady Monica and her mother leave.”

“You intend to persecute these ladies!”

“Not at all. But when they go to visit the Duchess of Carmona, that will be—the time I shall choose for leaving Biarritz.”

“Who has spoken of such a visit?”

“A person I trust.”

He was silent for a moment, whether in surprise or anger I could not tell. But at last he said,“I'm less well-informed than your friend as to the plans of Lady Vale-Avon and her daughter. They may return to England; they may go to friends in Paris, they may visit my mother. But this doesn't concern strangers like yourself; and my advice to the Marqués de Casa Triana is,whatever happens, keep out of Spain.”

“Do you threaten me?”I asked.

“I don't threaten—I warn.”

“Thanks for your kind intentions. They give me food for thought.”

“All the better. You'll be less likely to forget.”

“I shan't forget,”I answered.“Indeed, I shall profit by your advice.”And with that I walked away, putting on my mask.

As Romeo had not known at what hour he might wish to leave the house of Capulet, he had ordered neither his own motor-car nor a carriage; but luckily a cab was lingering in the neighbourhood on the chance of a fare. I was glad not to walk to my hotel in the guise of Romeo; and I gained my quarters without meeting curious eyes in the corridors.

As I expected, Dick was in our private sitting-room, smoking and reading a novel.

“Well, what luck, friend Romeo?”he asked.

“Luck, and ill luck,”said I. Then I told the story of the evening.

[pg 029]“Humph! you've gone and got yourself into a pretty scrape,”was his comment at the end.

“You call it a‘scrape’when by a miracle the sweetest girl alive has fallen in love with you?”

“Just that, if the girl isn't old enough to know her own mind, and has a mother who wouldn't let her know it if she could. You've gone so far now, you'll have to go further—”

“As far as the end of the world, if necessary.”

“Oh! youLatinmen, with your eyes of fire, your boiling passions, and your exaggerated expressions! What do we Yankees and other sensible persons see in you?”

“Heaven knows,”said I, shrugging my shoulders.

“I doubt it. Why, in the name of common sense, as you'd got to the age of twenty-seven without bothering about love, couldn't you wait till the age of twenty-seven and a quarter, go quietly over to my country with me, a long sight better than the‘end of the world,’and propose to a charming American girl of rational age and plenty of dollars?”

“A rational age?”

“Over eighteen, anyhow. I believe you Latins have a fancy for these little whiteingénues, who don't know which side their bread's buttered, or how to say anything but‘Yes, please,’and‘No, thank you.’When my time comes, the girl must be twenty-two and a good, patriotic American.”

“American girls are fascinating, but I happen to be in love with an English one, and it's her misfortune and mine, not our fault, that she's eighteen instead of twenty-two.”

“A big misfortune. You mustn't kidnap an infant. That's what makes it awkward. As I said, you can't back out now.”

“Not while I live.”

“Don't be so Spanish. But come to think of it, I suppose you can't help that. What do you mean to do next?”

“Watch. And get word to Monica.”

“Angèle de la Mole will do what she can for you.”

“I hope so. Then everything else must depend on the girl.”

[pg 030]Dick's lean, tanned face was half quizzical, half sad.

“Everything else must depend on the girl,”he repeated.“I wonder what would happen if anybody tried to prop up a hundred pound weight against a lilybud?”

[pg 31]VA Mystery Concerning a ChauffeurFor many days after this the young King of Spain motored back and forth between San Sebastian and Biarritz to visit the lady of his love; but at last the two Princesses bade good-bye to the Villa Mouriscot, and went to Paris. Lady Vale-Avon and Monica remained; but for the moment the girl was safe from Carmona, for the Duke followed the King to Madrid.Lovely as Monica was, is, and always will be, and genuinely in love with her as I had no doubt Carmona was, still I began to believe that Dick Waring was right, and that the Duke's desire to win Princess Ena's friend was as much for Court favour as for the girl herself. Several weeks passed, and Monica and her mother continued to be tenants of the Villa Esmeralda. They went out little, except to visit the old Duchess of Carmona, who evidently did all she could to advance her son's interests with invitations to luncheons and dinners; but try as I might I was never able to obtain an interview.Fortunately for me, Lady Vale-Avon had seen me only in fancy dress; the costume of Romeo, with a ridiculous yellow-brown, wavy wig, upon which thecostumierhad insisted against my arguments. Now, I blessed him for his obstinacy; for I was able to pass Lady Vale-Avon in the street without being recognized, and once got near enough to slip into Monica's hand a note I had hastily scribbled on the leaf of a note-book.“Are you willing that I should try my luck again with your mother?”I had written.“If not, will you consent to a[pg 32]runaway marriage with a man who loves you better than his life?”Next day came an answer through Mademoiselle de la Mole.Monica begged that I would not speak to her mother.“She fancies that you have gone away,”the girl wrote.“If you came forward I think she would wire the Duke of Carmona, for she writes to him nearly every day as it is; and she would do everything she could to make me marry him at once. Don't hate me for being a coward. I'm not, except with mother. I can't help it with her. She's different from everyone else. I heard the Duchess saying to her yesterday, that if I were to marry a grandee of Spain, I would be made a lady-in-waiting to the Queen instead of maid of honour; so I know what they're thinking of always. But while mother hopes you have given me up, and that I'm quite good, they will perhaps let me alone.“I wish I dared write to the Princess about you; only, you see, on account of your father and that horrid accident which happened, in Barcelona, she might misunderstand you, and things would be worse than before. But if I find that mother means actually to try and force me, then Iwillgo away with you. Otherwise, I would rather wait, for both our sakes.“When I go back to England, there are some dear cousins of mine who might help us, but it's no use writing. I would have to see and talk to them myself. Anyway, if I were there they'd manage not to let me be married to a foreigner I hate; and you and I could go on being true to each other for a little while, until everything could be arranged.“The worst is, mother doesn't mean to go back to England yet. That's what I'm afraid of, and that she has some plan about which she doesn't mean to talk till the last minute. But she hasn't said anything lately about visiting the Duchess of Carmona in Spain, and I hope she's giving it up. As soon as I hear anything definite I'll somehow let you know. I think I can promise that, though it may be difficult, as mother will never let Angèle and me be alone together for a minute if she can help it. The day[pg 33]after the ball we are having a talk in my room when my mother came, and perhaps guessed I had been telling Angèle things. Since then I haven't been allowed to go to Angèle's; and though Angèle comes to see me, mother always makes some excuse for being with us.”After this letter of Monica's I had at least some idea of how matters stood; and in the circumstances there seemed nothing to do but to be near her, and to wait.It was not until the latter part of March that the Duke of Carmona came back to his mother's villa at Biarritz.His arrival was not announced in the local paper, nevertheless I heard of it; and the day after, Mademoiselle de la Mole sent me another letter from Monica, only a few lines, evidently written in great haste.They were to pay the visit to the Duchess of Carmona in Seville, and were to arrive there in time for the famous ceremonies of Holy Week; that was all she knew. The time of starting was either not decided, or else it was not considered best that she should know too long beforehand.“I'm miserable about going,”wrote the girl;“but what can I do? I used to think it would be glorious to see Spain, but now I'm frightened. I have a horrible feeling that I shall never come back. I know it's too much to ask, and I don't see how you can do it if I do ask, since I can tell you nothing of our plans; but if only,only, you could keep near me, within call, I should be safe. I suppose it's useless to hope for that? Anyway, whatever happens, I shall always love you.”To this I wrote an answer, but Angèle feared she might fail in getting it to her friend. The lease of Lady Vale-Avon's Biarritz villa had just expired, and the mother and daughter were moving to the Duchess of Carmona's for a few days. For some reason, the Duchess had not once invited Angèle to come to her house since the ball. She might not be able to see Monica; and it would be very unsafe to trust to the post.It was on the evening of the day on which I had this news[pg 34]that my chauffeur knocked at the door of our sitting-room at the hotel.“I thought,”said he,“I'd better tell your lordship something which has just happened. It may be of importance; it may be of none.”Now I may as well explain that Peter Ropes is no common chauffeur. He is the son of the old coachman who served my father for many years in England; was groom to my first pony; went abroad with me as handy man; was with me through most of my adventures; when I took up motoring, volunteered to go into a factory and thoroughly learn the gentle art of chauffeuring; and at this time understood an automobile, and loved it, as he understood and loved a horse; he is of my age almost to the day; and I suppose will be with me in some capacity or other till one of us dies. He has a brown face, which might have been carved from a piece of oak; the eyes of a soldier; and never utters a word more than he must.“You said I could go to thepelotathis afternoon,”he continued.“When I came back I went to the garage, and found a strange chauffeur examining your Gloria. I stood at a distance, behind the King of England's car, and watched what he would do. M. Levavasseur, the proprietor of the garage, came in just then, and I inquired in a low voice who the fellow was. He didn't know; but the man had asked for Mr. Trevenna's chauffeur, saying, when he heard I was out, that he was a friend of mine. I gave Levavasseur the hint to keep quiet, and got out of the way myself. Presently the chauffeur walked over to Levavasseur, and said, in French, that he wouldn't wait any longer.”“Well, what then, Ropes?”I asked.“He went away, and I went after him. He didn't see me, and I don't believe he would have known me from Adam if he had. He stopped at another garage, and I thought best not to go in there. But I waited, and after a while a very dark, tall gentleman, who looked Spanish, walked into the garage. Five minutes later he and the chauffeur came out together. They parted at the entrance,[pg 35]and it was the gentleman I followed this time. He went to a large, handsome villa; and a person I met told me it was the Duchess of Carmona's house. That is the reason I thought the thing important.”“But why, exactly?”I persisted, guessing what Ropes would say.“Because I think the gentleman was the Duke of Carmona.”“And if he were?”“I've heard gossip that he's anxious to stand well with the King of Spain. It occurred to me he might have some political interest in trying to learn the real name of Mr. Trevenna, if you pardon my having such a thought. He might have sent his chauffeur to look at your car, and make a report; and if he did, whatever the reason was, it would mean no good to your lordship. I thought you ought to know, and be upon your guard, in case of anything happening.”“Thank you,”I said.“You're right to speak, and it may be you've done me an invaluable service.”Ropes beamed; but having said all he had to say, another word would have been a waste of good material, which he was not the man to squander.

For many days after this the young King of Spain motored back and forth between San Sebastian and Biarritz to visit the lady of his love; but at last the two Princesses bade good-bye to the Villa Mouriscot, and went to Paris. Lady Vale-Avon and Monica remained; but for the moment the girl was safe from Carmona, for the Duke followed the King to Madrid.

Lovely as Monica was, is, and always will be, and genuinely in love with her as I had no doubt Carmona was, still I began to believe that Dick Waring was right, and that the Duke's desire to win Princess Ena's friend was as much for Court favour as for the girl herself. Several weeks passed, and Monica and her mother continued to be tenants of the Villa Esmeralda. They went out little, except to visit the old Duchess of Carmona, who evidently did all she could to advance her son's interests with invitations to luncheons and dinners; but try as I might I was never able to obtain an interview.

Fortunately for me, Lady Vale-Avon had seen me only in fancy dress; the costume of Romeo, with a ridiculous yellow-brown, wavy wig, upon which thecostumierhad insisted against my arguments. Now, I blessed him for his obstinacy; for I was able to pass Lady Vale-Avon in the street without being recognized, and once got near enough to slip into Monica's hand a note I had hastily scribbled on the leaf of a note-book.

“Are you willing that I should try my luck again with your mother?”I had written.“If not, will you consent to a[pg 32]runaway marriage with a man who loves you better than his life?”

Next day came an answer through Mademoiselle de la Mole.

Monica begged that I would not speak to her mother.“She fancies that you have gone away,”the girl wrote.“If you came forward I think she would wire the Duke of Carmona, for she writes to him nearly every day as it is; and she would do everything she could to make me marry him at once. Don't hate me for being a coward. I'm not, except with mother. I can't help it with her. She's different from everyone else. I heard the Duchess saying to her yesterday, that if I were to marry a grandee of Spain, I would be made a lady-in-waiting to the Queen instead of maid of honour; so I know what they're thinking of always. But while mother hopes you have given me up, and that I'm quite good, they will perhaps let me alone.

“I wish I dared write to the Princess about you; only, you see, on account of your father and that horrid accident which happened, in Barcelona, she might misunderstand you, and things would be worse than before. But if I find that mother means actually to try and force me, then Iwillgo away with you. Otherwise, I would rather wait, for both our sakes.

“When I go back to England, there are some dear cousins of mine who might help us, but it's no use writing. I would have to see and talk to them myself. Anyway, if I were there they'd manage not to let me be married to a foreigner I hate; and you and I could go on being true to each other for a little while, until everything could be arranged.

“The worst is, mother doesn't mean to go back to England yet. That's what I'm afraid of, and that she has some plan about which she doesn't mean to talk till the last minute. But she hasn't said anything lately about visiting the Duchess of Carmona in Spain, and I hope she's giving it up. As soon as I hear anything definite I'll somehow let you know. I think I can promise that, though it may be difficult, as mother will never let Angèle and me be alone together for a minute if she can help it. The day[pg 33]after the ball we are having a talk in my room when my mother came, and perhaps guessed I had been telling Angèle things. Since then I haven't been allowed to go to Angèle's; and though Angèle comes to see me, mother always makes some excuse for being with us.”

After this letter of Monica's I had at least some idea of how matters stood; and in the circumstances there seemed nothing to do but to be near her, and to wait.

It was not until the latter part of March that the Duke of Carmona came back to his mother's villa at Biarritz.

His arrival was not announced in the local paper, nevertheless I heard of it; and the day after, Mademoiselle de la Mole sent me another letter from Monica, only a few lines, evidently written in great haste.

They were to pay the visit to the Duchess of Carmona in Seville, and were to arrive there in time for the famous ceremonies of Holy Week; that was all she knew. The time of starting was either not decided, or else it was not considered best that she should know too long beforehand.

“I'm miserable about going,”wrote the girl;“but what can I do? I used to think it would be glorious to see Spain, but now I'm frightened. I have a horrible feeling that I shall never come back. I know it's too much to ask, and I don't see how you can do it if I do ask, since I can tell you nothing of our plans; but if only,only, you could keep near me, within call, I should be safe. I suppose it's useless to hope for that? Anyway, whatever happens, I shall always love you.”

To this I wrote an answer, but Angèle feared she might fail in getting it to her friend. The lease of Lady Vale-Avon's Biarritz villa had just expired, and the mother and daughter were moving to the Duchess of Carmona's for a few days. For some reason, the Duchess had not once invited Angèle to come to her house since the ball. She might not be able to see Monica; and it would be very unsafe to trust to the post.

It was on the evening of the day on which I had this news[pg 34]that my chauffeur knocked at the door of our sitting-room at the hotel.

“I thought,”said he,“I'd better tell your lordship something which has just happened. It may be of importance; it may be of none.”

Now I may as well explain that Peter Ropes is no common chauffeur. He is the son of the old coachman who served my father for many years in England; was groom to my first pony; went abroad with me as handy man; was with me through most of my adventures; when I took up motoring, volunteered to go into a factory and thoroughly learn the gentle art of chauffeuring; and at this time understood an automobile, and loved it, as he understood and loved a horse; he is of my age almost to the day; and I suppose will be with me in some capacity or other till one of us dies. He has a brown face, which might have been carved from a piece of oak; the eyes of a soldier; and never utters a word more than he must.

“You said I could go to thepelotathis afternoon,”he continued.“When I came back I went to the garage, and found a strange chauffeur examining your Gloria. I stood at a distance, behind the King of England's car, and watched what he would do. M. Levavasseur, the proprietor of the garage, came in just then, and I inquired in a low voice who the fellow was. He didn't know; but the man had asked for Mr. Trevenna's chauffeur, saying, when he heard I was out, that he was a friend of mine. I gave Levavasseur the hint to keep quiet, and got out of the way myself. Presently the chauffeur walked over to Levavasseur, and said, in French, that he wouldn't wait any longer.”

“Well, what then, Ropes?”I asked.

“He went away, and I went after him. He didn't see me, and I don't believe he would have known me from Adam if he had. He stopped at another garage, and I thought best not to go in there. But I waited, and after a while a very dark, tall gentleman, who looked Spanish, walked into the garage. Five minutes later he and the chauffeur came out together. They parted at the entrance,[pg 35]and it was the gentleman I followed this time. He went to a large, handsome villa; and a person I met told me it was the Duchess of Carmona's house. That is the reason I thought the thing important.”

“But why, exactly?”I persisted, guessing what Ropes would say.

“Because I think the gentleman was the Duke of Carmona.”

“And if he were?”

“I've heard gossip that he's anxious to stand well with the King of Spain. It occurred to me he might have some political interest in trying to learn the real name of Mr. Trevenna, if you pardon my having such a thought. He might have sent his chauffeur to look at your car, and make a report; and if he did, whatever the reason was, it would mean no good to your lordship. I thought you ought to know, and be upon your guard, in case of anything happening.”

“Thank you,”I said.“You're right to speak, and it may be you've done me an invaluable service.”

Ropes beamed; but having said all he had to say, another word would have been a waste of good material, which he was not the man to squander.

[pg 36]VIPuzzle: Find the Car“What do you think it means?”asked Dick, when the chauffeur had gone.“It's just struck me, it may mean that Carmona intends to slip away with his guests in his new automobile, and that he wanted to find out something about my car, what it was like, and so on, in case I got wind of the idea, and followed.”“The identical thing struck me. He wouldn't go spying himself, but sent his chauffeur, a new importation, probably, to have a look at the Gloria and describe it. I wonder how he heard you had one.”“Easy enough to do that. Of course he's found out somehow, perhaps through employing a detective, that Chris Trevenna and Casa Triana are one man. He can't make much use of the knowledge to bother me on this side the frontier, but—”“Yes; a big but.”“It seems pretty certain that his own car must have come, or be coming here, and that he means to use it going into Spain, or he wouldn't have developed this sudden interest in mine.”“It looks like it. Now he knows, if a dark blue Gloria crosses his path, it's the car of the pursuing lover, and—”“I was just thinking that a dark blue Gloria will not cross his path.”“You don't mean—”“I mean that it won't be prudent for either Casa Triana's or Chris Trevenna's car to follow his, wherever he means to go.”[pg 037]“What, you'll give up—”“Is it likely?”“You're getting beyond me.”“What I want is to stay with you, in your car.”“Wish I had one!”said Dick.“You're going to have the loan of one. Would a grey or a red car suit you best?”“I see. Red, please. They say red paint dries quickest.”We both laughed.“Your red car must have new lamps,”I went on,“and a new number, and any other little things that can be put on in a hurry. And you'd better get a passport if you haven't one. Gentlemen touring in foreign lands are sometimes subjected to cross-questionings which might be inconvenient unless they've plenty of red tape up their sleeves.”“I'll lay in a stock. How would you like me to be the accredited correspondent, for the Spanish wedding festivities, of a newspaper or two?”“Rattling good idea. Could you work it?”“Easy as falling off a log, or puncturing a tyre. I'll arrange by telegraph, London and New York.”“Grand old chap.”“Thanks. Better wait till I've done something. What about your part in the show?”“A humble friend, accompanying the important newspaper correspondent in his travels.”“That's all right. But the Trevenna business is played out.”“A new travelling name's as easy to fit as a travelling-coat.”“Not quite, unless you can match it with a new travelling face.”“Luckily Carmona knows Romeo's face better than mine. And, anyhow, a motoring get-up can be next door to a disguise.”“That's true. Behind goggles Apollo hasn't much advantage over Apollyon, and you can develop a moustache. Yes. I think we can work it as far as that goes. But one's always heard that Spanish roads are impossible.”[pg 038]“They'll be no worse for us than for Carmona,”I argued.“Besides, most of the best known books about Spain are out of date. The King has made motoring fashionable lately, and there must have been some attempts to get the roads into passable condition.”“I happened to hear an American who's here with a sixty horse-power Panhard, wanting to go to Seville, say to another fellow that he'd been warned he couldn't get beyond Madrid.”“I've never bothered much about warnings in my life. I've generally gone ahead, and found out things for myself.”“We'll continue on the same lines. And, anyhow, wherever we go, we're sure of a leader; our friend the enemy.”It was next in order to find out whether the Duke really had brought an automobile to Biarritz; but try as we might, we could learn nothing. Inquiries were made at the railway stations, both at Bayonne and Biarritz, as to whether an automobile had lately been shipped through; but as it happened, no car of any description had arrived by rail in either direction during the last fortnight.All the principal garages of Bayonne and Biarritz were visited also, in the hope of finding a mysterious car which might be the Duke of Carmona's; but there was not one of which we could not trace the ownership. We then sent to Bordeaux, and even to St. Jean de Luz; but in both cases our errand was vain. If Carmona had an automobile in the South of France, it was well hidden.As for the chauffeur who had inspected my car, and afterwards met Carmona at another garage, he had disappeared, apparently, into thin air.Nevertheless, Dick and I formed a theory that the new automobile, of which we had heard so many rumours, was actually in Biarritz; that it had been driven into the town after dark, and was now being kept by some friend of Carmona's in a private garage. And if we were right in our conjectures, we felt we might take it as a sure sign that the Duke was not only planning an important[pg 39]tour, but was not forgetting a detail of precaution which could prevent my learning his intentions.As we could not set a watch upon the chauffeur, we set a watch upon the Duke; and it was Ropes who, with considerable relish, undertook the task. I did not wish to bring a stranger into the affair; and Ropes I could trust as I trusted myself. Therefore Ropes it was who unobtrusively dogged Carmona's footsteps from the time the Duke went out in the morning, up to the time he went in again at night.Meanwhile, Dick took steps to become correspondent forThe Daily Despatchof London, andThe New York Recorder, the editors of which papers he knew personally. He spent a great deal of money in wiring long messages, but his reward was success, and, as he said, he was“proud of his job,”which he intended to carry out as faithfully as if writing impressions for newspapers were the business of his life.Also, we got the car repainted; bought lamps of a different sort; ordered side baskets to be attached, of a red to match the new colour; had Dick Waring's monogram, in execrable taste, put on the doors; while last and most important change of all, from being number A12,901, the automobile became, illegally but convincingly, M14,317. Cunningest device of all, Ropes changed the wheel-caps of my Gloria for those of a Frenzel, as like a Gloria as a Fiat is like a Mercédès; so that only an expert of much experience would know that the car was not a Frenzel.A quick dryer was used, and in two days we were ready for anything. I still hoped for a letter from Monica, with some hints as to her mother's plans, but nothing came; and when we had had a blank day, with no news of activity in the enemy's camp, it was a relief to have Ropes arrive at the hotel in the morning just as I was dressed.I knew the moment I saw his face that something exciting had happened.“The Duke's gone, my lord,”he reported;“gone in a dark[pg 40]grey, covered car; I couldn't get near enough to make sure what it was, but it looks like a Lecomte. He's this moment got off.”“Not alone?”“No, my lord. I'll tell you exactly what took place. I was at the window in the little room I hired over a shop three days ago, in sight of the entrance gates of the Villa Isabella. It was just seven o'clock this morning when a smart, big grey car drove in, might be a forty horse, and of the Lecomte type. The chauffeur wore goggles, but his figure was like the fellow's who came the other day to our garage. About half an hour later, out slipped the car again, the Duke driving, a lady sitting beside him, two other ladies in the tonneau, the chauffeur at the Duke's feet, and a good deal of luggage on the roof. At the gate they turned as if to go to San Sebastian; and I came to let you know.”“That's right. Get ready at once for a start, and have the car here as soon as you can.”“Car's ready now, my lord, and so am I.”“Good. But don't‘my lord’me. Now that I'm Mr. George Smith that's even more important to remember than in Trevenna days. And don't forget that the car's Mr. Waring's car.”“I won't forget, sir.”He was off to the garage, and I was knocking at Dick's door.Dick was tying his necktie.“Ready to start in five minutes,”said he.“How did you guess what was up?”“Your face, d'Artagnan.”“Why d'Artagnan? Haven't I a large enough variety of names already?”“I've selected one suitable for the situation. D'Artagnan took upon himself a mission. So have you; and you'll have as many difficulties to overcome before you fulfil it, if you do, as he had.”“Nonsense. We're starting out to keep in touch with another party of motorists.”“In a country forbidden to one of us.”“That one can look out for himself. If a lady in another motor[pg 41]should need someone to stand by her, we're to be on the spot to stand by, that's all.”“Yes; that's all,”said Dick, laughing.“And all that d'Artagnan had to do was to get hold of a few diamond studs which a lady wanted to wear at a ball. Sounds simple, eh? But d'Artagnan had some fun on the way, and I'd bet the last dollar in my pile we will. Hang this necktie! There; I'm ready. Have we time for coffee and a crust?”

“What do you think it means?”asked Dick, when the chauffeur had gone.

“It's just struck me, it may mean that Carmona intends to slip away with his guests in his new automobile, and that he wanted to find out something about my car, what it was like, and so on, in case I got wind of the idea, and followed.”

“The identical thing struck me. He wouldn't go spying himself, but sent his chauffeur, a new importation, probably, to have a look at the Gloria and describe it. I wonder how he heard you had one.”

“Easy enough to do that. Of course he's found out somehow, perhaps through employing a detective, that Chris Trevenna and Casa Triana are one man. He can't make much use of the knowledge to bother me on this side the frontier, but—”

“Yes; a big but.”

“It seems pretty certain that his own car must have come, or be coming here, and that he means to use it going into Spain, or he wouldn't have developed this sudden interest in mine.”

“It looks like it. Now he knows, if a dark blue Gloria crosses his path, it's the car of the pursuing lover, and—”

“I was just thinking that a dark blue Gloria will not cross his path.”

“You don't mean—”

“I mean that it won't be prudent for either Casa Triana's or Chris Trevenna's car to follow his, wherever he means to go.”

[pg 037]“What, you'll give up—”

“Is it likely?”

“You're getting beyond me.”

“What I want is to stay with you, in your car.”

“Wish I had one!”said Dick.

“You're going to have the loan of one. Would a grey or a red car suit you best?”

“I see. Red, please. They say red paint dries quickest.”

We both laughed.

“Your red car must have new lamps,”I went on,“and a new number, and any other little things that can be put on in a hurry. And you'd better get a passport if you haven't one. Gentlemen touring in foreign lands are sometimes subjected to cross-questionings which might be inconvenient unless they've plenty of red tape up their sleeves.”

“I'll lay in a stock. How would you like me to be the accredited correspondent, for the Spanish wedding festivities, of a newspaper or two?”

“Rattling good idea. Could you work it?”

“Easy as falling off a log, or puncturing a tyre. I'll arrange by telegraph, London and New York.”

“Grand old chap.”

“Thanks. Better wait till I've done something. What about your part in the show?”

“A humble friend, accompanying the important newspaper correspondent in his travels.”

“That's all right. But the Trevenna business is played out.”

“A new travelling name's as easy to fit as a travelling-coat.”

“Not quite, unless you can match it with a new travelling face.”

“Luckily Carmona knows Romeo's face better than mine. And, anyhow, a motoring get-up can be next door to a disguise.”

“That's true. Behind goggles Apollo hasn't much advantage over Apollyon, and you can develop a moustache. Yes. I think we can work it as far as that goes. But one's always heard that Spanish roads are impossible.”

[pg 038]“They'll be no worse for us than for Carmona,”I argued.“Besides, most of the best known books about Spain are out of date. The King has made motoring fashionable lately, and there must have been some attempts to get the roads into passable condition.”

“I happened to hear an American who's here with a sixty horse-power Panhard, wanting to go to Seville, say to another fellow that he'd been warned he couldn't get beyond Madrid.”

“I've never bothered much about warnings in my life. I've generally gone ahead, and found out things for myself.”

“We'll continue on the same lines. And, anyhow, wherever we go, we're sure of a leader; our friend the enemy.”

It was next in order to find out whether the Duke really had brought an automobile to Biarritz; but try as we might, we could learn nothing. Inquiries were made at the railway stations, both at Bayonne and Biarritz, as to whether an automobile had lately been shipped through; but as it happened, no car of any description had arrived by rail in either direction during the last fortnight.

All the principal garages of Bayonne and Biarritz were visited also, in the hope of finding a mysterious car which might be the Duke of Carmona's; but there was not one of which we could not trace the ownership. We then sent to Bordeaux, and even to St. Jean de Luz; but in both cases our errand was vain. If Carmona had an automobile in the South of France, it was well hidden.

As for the chauffeur who had inspected my car, and afterwards met Carmona at another garage, he had disappeared, apparently, into thin air.

Nevertheless, Dick and I formed a theory that the new automobile, of which we had heard so many rumours, was actually in Biarritz; that it had been driven into the town after dark, and was now being kept by some friend of Carmona's in a private garage. And if we were right in our conjectures, we felt we might take it as a sure sign that the Duke was not only planning an important[pg 39]tour, but was not forgetting a detail of precaution which could prevent my learning his intentions.

As we could not set a watch upon the chauffeur, we set a watch upon the Duke; and it was Ropes who, with considerable relish, undertook the task. I did not wish to bring a stranger into the affair; and Ropes I could trust as I trusted myself. Therefore Ropes it was who unobtrusively dogged Carmona's footsteps from the time the Duke went out in the morning, up to the time he went in again at night.

Meanwhile, Dick took steps to become correspondent forThe Daily Despatchof London, andThe New York Recorder, the editors of which papers he knew personally. He spent a great deal of money in wiring long messages, but his reward was success, and, as he said, he was“proud of his job,”which he intended to carry out as faithfully as if writing impressions for newspapers were the business of his life.

Also, we got the car repainted; bought lamps of a different sort; ordered side baskets to be attached, of a red to match the new colour; had Dick Waring's monogram, in execrable taste, put on the doors; while last and most important change of all, from being number A12,901, the automobile became, illegally but convincingly, M14,317. Cunningest device of all, Ropes changed the wheel-caps of my Gloria for those of a Frenzel, as like a Gloria as a Fiat is like a Mercédès; so that only an expert of much experience would know that the car was not a Frenzel.

A quick dryer was used, and in two days we were ready for anything. I still hoped for a letter from Monica, with some hints as to her mother's plans, but nothing came; and when we had had a blank day, with no news of activity in the enemy's camp, it was a relief to have Ropes arrive at the hotel in the morning just as I was dressed.

I knew the moment I saw his face that something exciting had happened.

“The Duke's gone, my lord,”he reported;“gone in a dark[pg 40]grey, covered car; I couldn't get near enough to make sure what it was, but it looks like a Lecomte. He's this moment got off.”

“Not alone?”

“No, my lord. I'll tell you exactly what took place. I was at the window in the little room I hired over a shop three days ago, in sight of the entrance gates of the Villa Isabella. It was just seven o'clock this morning when a smart, big grey car drove in, might be a forty horse, and of the Lecomte type. The chauffeur wore goggles, but his figure was like the fellow's who came the other day to our garage. About half an hour later, out slipped the car again, the Duke driving, a lady sitting beside him, two other ladies in the tonneau, the chauffeur at the Duke's feet, and a good deal of luggage on the roof. At the gate they turned as if to go to San Sebastian; and I came to let you know.”

“That's right. Get ready at once for a start, and have the car here as soon as you can.”

“Car's ready now, my lord, and so am I.”

“Good. But don't‘my lord’me. Now that I'm Mr. George Smith that's even more important to remember than in Trevenna days. And don't forget that the car's Mr. Waring's car.”

“I won't forget, sir.”

He was off to the garage, and I was knocking at Dick's door.

Dick was tying his necktie.“Ready to start in five minutes,”said he.

“How did you guess what was up?”

“Your face, d'Artagnan.”

“Why d'Artagnan? Haven't I a large enough variety of names already?”

“I've selected one suitable for the situation. D'Artagnan took upon himself a mission. So have you; and you'll have as many difficulties to overcome before you fulfil it, if you do, as he had.”

“Nonsense. We're starting out to keep in touch with another party of motorists.”

“In a country forbidden to one of us.”

“That one can look out for himself. If a lady in another motor[pg 41]should need someone to stand by her, we're to be on the spot to stand by, that's all.”

“Yes; that's all,”said Dick, laughing.“And all that d'Artagnan had to do was to get hold of a few diamond studs which a lady wanted to wear at a ball. Sounds simple, eh? But d'Artagnan had some fun on the way, and I'd bet the last dollar in my pile we will. Hang this necktie! There; I'm ready. Have we time for coffee and a crust?”

[pg 42]VIIThe Impudence of Showing a HandkerchiefFifteen minutes later we were off.I love driving my car, as I love the breath of life, and I'm conceited enough to fancy that no one else, not even Ropes, can get out of her what I can. Still, this was not destined to be precisely a pleasure trip, and prudence bade me give the helm to Dick. He is a good enough driver; and the car was his car now; I was but an insignificant passenger, with a case of visiting cards in his pocket, newly engraved with the name of Mr. George Smith. I sat on the front seat beside Dick, however, silently criticising his every move; Ropes was in the tonneau; such luggage as we had, on top.It was scarcely eight o'clock, and there was so little traffic in the town that we did not need to trouble about a legal limit. We slipped swiftly along the rough white road to the railway station, past large villas and green lawns, and took the sharp turn to the right that leads out from the pleasant land of France straight to romantic Spain, the country of my dreams. We sped past houses that looked from their deep sheltering woods upon a silver lake, and away in the distance we caught glimpses of the sea. Before us were graceful, piled mountains, the crenelated mass of Les Trois Couronnes glittering with wintry diamonds. Against the morning sky, stood up, clear and cold, the cone of far La Rune.Looking ahead, in my ears sang the song of my blood, sweet with hope, as the name of the girl I love and the land I love, mingled together in music.Gaining the first outskirts of straggling St. Jean de Luz my[pg 43]eyes and Dick's fell at the same time upon something before us; a big grey automobile, its roof piled with luggage, stationary by the roadside, a chauffeur busy jacking up the driving wheels, a tall man standing to watch the work, his hands in the pockets of his fur coat. Instantly Dick slowed down our car, to lean out as we came within speaking distance, while I sat still, secure from recognition behind elaborately hideous goggles.“Is there anything we can do?”asked Dick with the generosity of an automobilist in full tide of fortune to another in ill fortune. I noticed as he spoke, that he made his American accent as marked as possible; so marked, that it was almost like hoisting the stars and stripes over the transformed and repainted Gloria.“No, thank you,”said Carmona; for it was he who stood in the road looking on while his chauffeur worked. He had glanced up with anxiety and vexation on his ungoggled, dark face, at the first sound of an approaching car, and I knew well what thought sprang into his head. But a red car, with an American driving, was not what he had half expected to see. He was visibly relieved; nevertheless, he was slow enough in answering to bring us to a standstill, while he peered at our wheel-caps.The deceitful name, glittering up to his eyes, so evidently reassured him that a temptation seized me, and I yielded without a struggle.I had come prepared for a quick signal to Monica whenever an opportunity should arise, and, as I was anxious to let her know that she was not unprotected, it seemed to me that the first chance of doing so was better than the second.In an inner breast pocket of my coat I had the lace handkerchief which I had stolen on the night of the ball. As Dick questioned Carmona, and Carmona answered, I flashed out the wisp of lace and passed it across my lips, not turning to look full at the slim, grey-coated figure on the front seat, yet conscious by a side glance that a veiled face regarded us.What I did was done so quickly, that I think it would have[pg 44]passed unnoticed by the Duke; but Monica, taken completely by surprise, bent suddenly forward; then, remembering the need for caution, hurriedly leaned back against the cushions.Carmona caught her nervous movement, saw how self-consciously, almost rigidly, she sat when she had recovered herself, and, suspicion instantly alert, turned a searchlight gaze on us.The lace handkerchief had vanished. I was sitting indifferently, with arms folded, my interest concentrated upon the busy chauffeur. Still I felt there was no detail of my figure and motoring clothes that Carmona was not noting as he explained to Dick the nature of his mishap.“A simple puncture,”he said.“And we have all necessary means to mend it, thank you.”Dick and I lifted our caps to the ladies and went our way; but it was not until we had passed the charming Renaissance house where Louis Quatorze was born, that Waring made any comment on the incident.“If that Moor-faced chap isn't on to the game, he's getting mighty‘warm,’as the children say,”he remarked dryly.“He can't possibly be certain,”said I.“Even if he saw my face, he couldn't swear to identifying it, as the only sight he ever had of me was in that asinine, yellow Romeo wig. Besides, Romeo had no moustache, and, thanks to your advice, I have. It's the one thing that's conspicuous under the goggles.”“A sort of‘coming event casting its shadow before.’I didn't say heknew. I said he guessed. See here, while he's waiting for his tyre, could we wire from this town to the frontier in time to have you stopped?”“We ought to get there before any telegram he could send,”said I, hopefully.“However, there'll be a lot of formalities at the custom-house. They might catch us before we finished. But, uncertain as he must be, it would hardly be worth his while—”“I wouldn't bet much on that,”said Dick.“Let's rush it,”said I.[pg 045]“Too risky. You'd feel such a limp ass to be detained by a fat policeman at the door of Spain, while Carmona and Lady Monica went through, and disappeared.”“I'd shoot the fat policeman first.”“There you are, being Spanish again, just when you ought to develop a little horse-sense.”This put me on my mettle, and in two minutes I had thought out a plan, while Dick whistled and reflected.It was rather an odd plan, and could only be carried out by the aid of another. But that other had never failed me yet, when loyalty or devotion were needed; and I had not got out half the suggestion when he understood all, and begged to do what I had hardly liked to ask.We took exactly eight minutes, by Dick's watch, in making arrangements to meet an emergency which I hoped might not arise if our speed were good and our luck held.Already Hendaye, the last French town, was but just beyond our sight. We ran through it at high speed, passed on through little Béhobie; and next moment our tyres were rolling through a brown mixture of French and Spanish mud on the international bridge that crosses the swirling Bidasoa. We had passed from Gaul to Iberia. At the central iron lamp-post, carrying on one side the“R.F.”of France, on the other the Royal Arms of Spain, I lifted my cap in salutation to my native land, just where, had I been an Englishman, I should have lifted it to memories of grand old Wellington.The broad river was rushing, green and swift, down to Fuenterrabia and the sea, eddying past the little Ile des Faisans, where so much history has been made; where Cardinals treated for royal marriages; where Francis the First, a prisoner, was exchanged for his two sons. We were across the dividing water now, in Irun, and on Spanish soil. High-collared Spanish soldiers lounging by their sentry boxes, looked keenly at us, but made no move, little guessing that the accused bomb-thrower of Barcelona was driving past them through this romantic gate to Spain.[pg 46]We turned abruptly to the right, and, hoping still to escape trouble, pulled up at the custom-house.To hurry a Spanish official, I had often heard my father say, in old days, is a thing impossible, and we avoided an air of anxiety. The three men in the big red car appeared to desire nothing better than to linger in the society of thedouaniers. Nevertheless, the chauffeur was as brisk in his movements as he dared to be.He it was who jumped from the tonneau, and in passable Spanish asked our inquisitor which, if any, of our suit-cases he wished to open. At the same instant a propitiatory cigarette was offered and accepted.Carefully the overcoated man selected with his eye a piece of luggage on the car roof. Luck was with us. It was the one easiest to unlock.In the twinkling of an eye (an American, not a Spanish eye), the thing was down and in the office. Thedouanierwas about to inspect, in his leisured way, when a peasant entered with some bags to be weighed.Naturally the official fell into chat with the new-comer, and it was necessary to remind him that we had the right of precedence. Every moment was of importance, for already there was time for a telegram to have arrived. Presently there would be time for its instructions to be acted on as well. And at this moment I realized, as I had not fully realized before, all that it would mean to me of humiliation and defeat to fail ignominiously on the threshold of my adventure.It was hard to show no impatience as thedouanier'slazy, cigarette-stained hand wandered among the contents of the suit-case. When any article puzzled him, he paused; another precious minute gone. But eventually, having had a safety-razor explained, he was satisfied with the inspection of the luggage, and indicated that it might be replaced. Then came the question of the deposit of money for the car, on entering Spain.Very carefully did the imperturbable official examine each Spanish bank-note we tendered; laboriously did he make out[pg 47]the receipt. Had he meant to detain us, his movements, his words, could not have been more deliberate. How I had longed to hear again the Spanish language spoken by Spaniards in Spain, yet how little was I able to appreciate the fulfilment of my long-cherished wish! At last, however, every formality was complied with, and we were free to go.With all speed we took our man at his word. The leather-coated, leather-legginged chauffeur set the engine's heart going in time with his own, flung himself into the tonneau, and had not shut the door when Waring slipped in the clutch, muttering“Hooray!”Another second and we should have been beyond recall; but hardly was the brake off than it had to go crashing on again to avoid running over a sergeant and two soldiers who rushed up and sprang in front of us, puffing with unwonted haste.In his hand the sergeant held an open telegram.“You speak Spanish?”he panted.“A little,”said Dick.“French better.”“I have no French, señor,”replied the sergeant,“But my business is not so much with you as with this gentleman,”he glanced at the telegram,“in the grey coat with the fur collar, the grey cap, the goggles in a grey felt mask, the small dark moustache, the grey buckskin gloves.”(Carmona had noticed everything.)“Our instructions are to prevent the Marqués de Casa Triana from going into Spain.”“Casa Triana? What do you mean?”cried Dick. Then he laughed.“Is the person you're talking about a Spaniard?”“He is, señor.”Dick laughed a great deal more.“Well, I guess you'll have to look somewhere else. There's a mistake. The gentleman in the grey coat and all the other grey things has hardly enough Spanish to know what you're driving at.”The sergeant shrugged his shoulders and looked determined.“There is no mistake in my instructions, señor. I am sorry, but it is my duty to detain that gentleman. If there is an error there will be apologies.”[pg 048]“I should say there jolly well was an error,”sputtered Dick, in his wild combination of Spanish and English and American.“George, show your card. He thinks you're a Spaniard, who's‘wanted.’”The gentleman in the grey coat showed the visiting cards of Mr. George Smith, and the Spanish soldier examined them gloomily.“Anybody might have these,”said he, half to us, half to a group of his countrymen.“Señor, I must reluctantly ask you to descend and to come with me. It will be much better to do so quietly.”“Of all the monstrous indignities,”shouted Dick.“I'm a newspaper correspondent on a special detail. I'll wire the American minister in Madrid, and the English Ambassador too. I'll—”But the gentleman in the grey coat had obeyed the sergeant. He had also taken off his goggles.“It will be all right in a few hours, or a few days,”said he in English.“You must go on. Don't worry about me.”“Go on without you?”echoed Dick, breaking again into astonishing Spanish for the benefit of the official.“Well, if you really don't mind, as I'm in the dickens of a hurry. You can follow by train, you know, as soon as you've proved to these blunderers that you're George Smith.”“If you are Señor George Smith, you will be free as soon as the photograph of the Marqués de Casa Triana has been sent on by the police at Madrid,”said the sergeant.“If not—”he did not finish his sentence; but the break was significant. And the soldiers closed in to separate the alleged George Smith from his companions of the car, lest at the last moment they should attempt a rescue.“We'll make them sorry for this, George,”said Dick.“But as we really can't do much for you here, we'll get on somewhere else, where we can.”“I must ask also for the name of the owner of this automobile, and for that of his chauffeur,”insisted the sergeant,“before I can let you go.”[pg 049]“Oh, all right,”said Dick, crossly, producing his passport, and cards with the names of the papers for which he had engaged to correspond.“Ropes, fork out your credentials.”The chauffeur brought forth his French papers, and pointed to the name of Peter Ropes. The sergeant industriously wrote down everything in his note-book, a greasy and forbidding one.“It is satisfactory,”he said with dignity;“you can proceed, señores.”The engine had not been stopped during the scene; and as the gentleman in the grey coat was marched off to the guard-house with a jostling Spanish crowd at his heels, the red car in which he had lately been a passenger slipped away and left him behind.Through the streets of Irun it passed at funeral pace, as if in respect and regret for a friend who was lost; but once out in the green, undulating country beyond, it put on a great spurt of speed, after the chauffeur had scrambled into the front seat.“Great Scott, but I'm as hot as if I'd come out of a Turkish bath,”growled Dick.“It was a warm ten minutes,”said I.“Poor old Ropes—bless him!”And I sent back a sigh of gratitude to the staunch friend in my grey overcoat, cap, goggles, and gloves, to whose loyalty I owed freedom.

Fifteen minutes later we were off.

I love driving my car, as I love the breath of life, and I'm conceited enough to fancy that no one else, not even Ropes, can get out of her what I can. Still, this was not destined to be precisely a pleasure trip, and prudence bade me give the helm to Dick. He is a good enough driver; and the car was his car now; I was but an insignificant passenger, with a case of visiting cards in his pocket, newly engraved with the name of Mr. George Smith. I sat on the front seat beside Dick, however, silently criticising his every move; Ropes was in the tonneau; such luggage as we had, on top.

It was scarcely eight o'clock, and there was so little traffic in the town that we did not need to trouble about a legal limit. We slipped swiftly along the rough white road to the railway station, past large villas and green lawns, and took the sharp turn to the right that leads out from the pleasant land of France straight to romantic Spain, the country of my dreams. We sped past houses that looked from their deep sheltering woods upon a silver lake, and away in the distance we caught glimpses of the sea. Before us were graceful, piled mountains, the crenelated mass of Les Trois Couronnes glittering with wintry diamonds. Against the morning sky, stood up, clear and cold, the cone of far La Rune.

Looking ahead, in my ears sang the song of my blood, sweet with hope, as the name of the girl I love and the land I love, mingled together in music.

Gaining the first outskirts of straggling St. Jean de Luz my[pg 43]eyes and Dick's fell at the same time upon something before us; a big grey automobile, its roof piled with luggage, stationary by the roadside, a chauffeur busy jacking up the driving wheels, a tall man standing to watch the work, his hands in the pockets of his fur coat. Instantly Dick slowed down our car, to lean out as we came within speaking distance, while I sat still, secure from recognition behind elaborately hideous goggles.

“Is there anything we can do?”asked Dick with the generosity of an automobilist in full tide of fortune to another in ill fortune. I noticed as he spoke, that he made his American accent as marked as possible; so marked, that it was almost like hoisting the stars and stripes over the transformed and repainted Gloria.

“No, thank you,”said Carmona; for it was he who stood in the road looking on while his chauffeur worked. He had glanced up with anxiety and vexation on his ungoggled, dark face, at the first sound of an approaching car, and I knew well what thought sprang into his head. But a red car, with an American driving, was not what he had half expected to see. He was visibly relieved; nevertheless, he was slow enough in answering to bring us to a standstill, while he peered at our wheel-caps.

The deceitful name, glittering up to his eyes, so evidently reassured him that a temptation seized me, and I yielded without a struggle.

I had come prepared for a quick signal to Monica whenever an opportunity should arise, and, as I was anxious to let her know that she was not unprotected, it seemed to me that the first chance of doing so was better than the second.

In an inner breast pocket of my coat I had the lace handkerchief which I had stolen on the night of the ball. As Dick questioned Carmona, and Carmona answered, I flashed out the wisp of lace and passed it across my lips, not turning to look full at the slim, grey-coated figure on the front seat, yet conscious by a side glance that a veiled face regarded us.

What I did was done so quickly, that I think it would have[pg 44]passed unnoticed by the Duke; but Monica, taken completely by surprise, bent suddenly forward; then, remembering the need for caution, hurriedly leaned back against the cushions.

Carmona caught her nervous movement, saw how self-consciously, almost rigidly, she sat when she had recovered herself, and, suspicion instantly alert, turned a searchlight gaze on us.

The lace handkerchief had vanished. I was sitting indifferently, with arms folded, my interest concentrated upon the busy chauffeur. Still I felt there was no detail of my figure and motoring clothes that Carmona was not noting as he explained to Dick the nature of his mishap.

“A simple puncture,”he said.“And we have all necessary means to mend it, thank you.”

Dick and I lifted our caps to the ladies and went our way; but it was not until we had passed the charming Renaissance house where Louis Quatorze was born, that Waring made any comment on the incident.

“If that Moor-faced chap isn't on to the game, he's getting mighty‘warm,’as the children say,”he remarked dryly.

“He can't possibly be certain,”said I.“Even if he saw my face, he couldn't swear to identifying it, as the only sight he ever had of me was in that asinine, yellow Romeo wig. Besides, Romeo had no moustache, and, thanks to your advice, I have. It's the one thing that's conspicuous under the goggles.”

“A sort of‘coming event casting its shadow before.’I didn't say heknew. I said he guessed. See here, while he's waiting for his tyre, could we wire from this town to the frontier in time to have you stopped?”

“We ought to get there before any telegram he could send,”said I, hopefully.“However, there'll be a lot of formalities at the custom-house. They might catch us before we finished. But, uncertain as he must be, it would hardly be worth his while—”

“I wouldn't bet much on that,”said Dick.

“Let's rush it,”said I.

[pg 045]“Too risky. You'd feel such a limp ass to be detained by a fat policeman at the door of Spain, while Carmona and Lady Monica went through, and disappeared.”

“I'd shoot the fat policeman first.”

“There you are, being Spanish again, just when you ought to develop a little horse-sense.”

This put me on my mettle, and in two minutes I had thought out a plan, while Dick whistled and reflected.

It was rather an odd plan, and could only be carried out by the aid of another. But that other had never failed me yet, when loyalty or devotion were needed; and I had not got out half the suggestion when he understood all, and begged to do what I had hardly liked to ask.

We took exactly eight minutes, by Dick's watch, in making arrangements to meet an emergency which I hoped might not arise if our speed were good and our luck held.

Already Hendaye, the last French town, was but just beyond our sight. We ran through it at high speed, passed on through little Béhobie; and next moment our tyres were rolling through a brown mixture of French and Spanish mud on the international bridge that crosses the swirling Bidasoa. We had passed from Gaul to Iberia. At the central iron lamp-post, carrying on one side the“R.F.”of France, on the other the Royal Arms of Spain, I lifted my cap in salutation to my native land, just where, had I been an Englishman, I should have lifted it to memories of grand old Wellington.

The broad river was rushing, green and swift, down to Fuenterrabia and the sea, eddying past the little Ile des Faisans, where so much history has been made; where Cardinals treated for royal marriages; where Francis the First, a prisoner, was exchanged for his two sons. We were across the dividing water now, in Irun, and on Spanish soil. High-collared Spanish soldiers lounging by their sentry boxes, looked keenly at us, but made no move, little guessing that the accused bomb-thrower of Barcelona was driving past them through this romantic gate to Spain.[pg 46]We turned abruptly to the right, and, hoping still to escape trouble, pulled up at the custom-house.

To hurry a Spanish official, I had often heard my father say, in old days, is a thing impossible, and we avoided an air of anxiety. The three men in the big red car appeared to desire nothing better than to linger in the society of thedouaniers. Nevertheless, the chauffeur was as brisk in his movements as he dared to be.

He it was who jumped from the tonneau, and in passable Spanish asked our inquisitor which, if any, of our suit-cases he wished to open. At the same instant a propitiatory cigarette was offered and accepted.

Carefully the overcoated man selected with his eye a piece of luggage on the car roof. Luck was with us. It was the one easiest to unlock.

In the twinkling of an eye (an American, not a Spanish eye), the thing was down and in the office. Thedouanierwas about to inspect, in his leisured way, when a peasant entered with some bags to be weighed.

Naturally the official fell into chat with the new-comer, and it was necessary to remind him that we had the right of precedence. Every moment was of importance, for already there was time for a telegram to have arrived. Presently there would be time for its instructions to be acted on as well. And at this moment I realized, as I had not fully realized before, all that it would mean to me of humiliation and defeat to fail ignominiously on the threshold of my adventure.

It was hard to show no impatience as thedouanier'slazy, cigarette-stained hand wandered among the contents of the suit-case. When any article puzzled him, he paused; another precious minute gone. But eventually, having had a safety-razor explained, he was satisfied with the inspection of the luggage, and indicated that it might be replaced. Then came the question of the deposit of money for the car, on entering Spain.

Very carefully did the imperturbable official examine each Spanish bank-note we tendered; laboriously did he make out[pg 47]the receipt. Had he meant to detain us, his movements, his words, could not have been more deliberate. How I had longed to hear again the Spanish language spoken by Spaniards in Spain, yet how little was I able to appreciate the fulfilment of my long-cherished wish! At last, however, every formality was complied with, and we were free to go.

With all speed we took our man at his word. The leather-coated, leather-legginged chauffeur set the engine's heart going in time with his own, flung himself into the tonneau, and had not shut the door when Waring slipped in the clutch, muttering“Hooray!”

Another second and we should have been beyond recall; but hardly was the brake off than it had to go crashing on again to avoid running over a sergeant and two soldiers who rushed up and sprang in front of us, puffing with unwonted haste.

In his hand the sergeant held an open telegram.

“You speak Spanish?”he panted.

“A little,”said Dick.“French better.”

“I have no French, señor,”replied the sergeant,“But my business is not so much with you as with this gentleman,”he glanced at the telegram,“in the grey coat with the fur collar, the grey cap, the goggles in a grey felt mask, the small dark moustache, the grey buckskin gloves.”(Carmona had noticed everything.)“Our instructions are to prevent the Marqués de Casa Triana from going into Spain.”

“Casa Triana? What do you mean?”cried Dick. Then he laughed.“Is the person you're talking about a Spaniard?”

“He is, señor.”

Dick laughed a great deal more.“Well, I guess you'll have to look somewhere else. There's a mistake. The gentleman in the grey coat and all the other grey things has hardly enough Spanish to know what you're driving at.”

The sergeant shrugged his shoulders and looked determined.“There is no mistake in my instructions, señor. I am sorry, but it is my duty to detain that gentleman. If there is an error there will be apologies.”

[pg 048]“I should say there jolly well was an error,”sputtered Dick, in his wild combination of Spanish and English and American.“George, show your card. He thinks you're a Spaniard, who's‘wanted.’”

The gentleman in the grey coat showed the visiting cards of Mr. George Smith, and the Spanish soldier examined them gloomily.“Anybody might have these,”said he, half to us, half to a group of his countrymen.“Señor, I must reluctantly ask you to descend and to come with me. It will be much better to do so quietly.”

“Of all the monstrous indignities,”shouted Dick.“I'm a newspaper correspondent on a special detail. I'll wire the American minister in Madrid, and the English Ambassador too. I'll—”

But the gentleman in the grey coat had obeyed the sergeant. He had also taken off his goggles.

“It will be all right in a few hours, or a few days,”said he in English.“You must go on. Don't worry about me.”

“Go on without you?”echoed Dick, breaking again into astonishing Spanish for the benefit of the official.“Well, if you really don't mind, as I'm in the dickens of a hurry. You can follow by train, you know, as soon as you've proved to these blunderers that you're George Smith.”

“If you are Señor George Smith, you will be free as soon as the photograph of the Marqués de Casa Triana has been sent on by the police at Madrid,”said the sergeant.“If not—”he did not finish his sentence; but the break was significant. And the soldiers closed in to separate the alleged George Smith from his companions of the car, lest at the last moment they should attempt a rescue.

“We'll make them sorry for this, George,”said Dick.“But as we really can't do much for you here, we'll get on somewhere else, where we can.”

“I must ask also for the name of the owner of this automobile, and for that of his chauffeur,”insisted the sergeant,“before I can let you go.”

[pg 049]“Oh, all right,”said Dick, crossly, producing his passport, and cards with the names of the papers for which he had engaged to correspond.“Ropes, fork out your credentials.”

The chauffeur brought forth his French papers, and pointed to the name of Peter Ropes. The sergeant industriously wrote down everything in his note-book, a greasy and forbidding one.

“It is satisfactory,”he said with dignity;“you can proceed, señores.”

The engine had not been stopped during the scene; and as the gentleman in the grey coat was marched off to the guard-house with a jostling Spanish crowd at his heels, the red car in which he had lately been a passenger slipped away and left him behind.

Through the streets of Irun it passed at funeral pace, as if in respect and regret for a friend who was lost; but once out in the green, undulating country beyond, it put on a great spurt of speed, after the chauffeur had scrambled into the front seat.

“Great Scott, but I'm as hot as if I'd come out of a Turkish bath,”growled Dick.

“It was a warm ten minutes,”said I.“Poor old Ropes—bless him!”And I sent back a sigh of gratitude to the staunch friend in my grey overcoat, cap, goggles, and gloves, to whose loyalty I owed freedom.

Back to IndexNext