. It was a secret of King Philip's--so
great a secret that even the writers of guide-books know nothing of it;
while, if a tourist should have heard a rumour and asked a question, the
attendants would say, 'There's no such thing in existence.' Only the Royal
Family know, a few privileged people about the Court, and the guardians of
the Escurial. As for me, I was told by someone here--someone whom I myself
placed in the palace."

My curiosity was excited; and even Dick, who resented this expedition,
looked interested as we arrived at the palace--the great gridiron's handle.
At the entrance Carmona separated himself from the rest of the party,
saying that he must have a few words in private with the attendant who
would show the rooms of Philip the Second. He walked ahead, engaged the
brown-liveried guide in low-voiced conversation, and seemed to ask a
question with some eagerness.

Observing the pantomime from a distance, I fancied that, for some reason,
Carmona was to be denied the privilege of which he had boasted; but,
apparently, he did not intend to accept defeat without a struggle. He and
the guide moved on, then stopped again to argue--this time with their backs
to us; but, from the action of Carmona's elbows, I judged that he put his
hand into his pocket. Five or six minutes later he returned, to announce
that after some difficulty he had succeeded in getting his own way. We
might go, unattended, into the private apartments of Philip the Second;
and while we were there, other visitors would be kept out. "If there are
any, they'll be taken another round," said Carmona, "and won't be ready to
come into the King's rooms until we're ready to come out."

The guide led us down the narrow staircase to the outer door of Philip's
suite, then slipped away, shutting the door behind him. Lady Vale-Avon and
Monica (the mother still clasping her daughter's arm), Pilar, Dick,
Carmona, and I were now alone between the gloomy walls behind which the
bigot and despot had lived his miserable life and died his miserable
death.

There was a chill in the sombre place which froze the spirit; yet I, for
one, did not feel sad. I was conscious only of an excited expectancy, as
if I were waiting for something to happen.

We let our imagination set the meagre form of Philip in his chair, or by
the desk at which he used to write; examined the grim relics of his
monk-like existence; and finally moved to the death-chamber, set like a
stage-