o arrive--probably all the way from Paris. He can go to-morrow--"

"Beg pardon, sir; he can't, not in his own car," said Ropes. "If _we_
can't leave, no more can't he."

"Why, what have you done?" I tried to speak sternly.

"Oh, next to nothing, sir. A bit of a touch on his magneto ignition, and a
tickling of his coil, just enough to keep him in hospital till he's
doctored up."

Rope's expression was so childlike that Dick and I burst out laughing.
"You demon!" I said. "How did you get at the car?"

"Much the same as they did at ours, though I don't pretend to be as clever
as some. I said to myself, as this car of the Duke's is new, and he
doesn't drive it himself, chances are he's never had a motor before, and
wouldn't have a garage in Madrid, though he does live here part of the
year and must have fine stables. I inquired what was the best garage
besides ours, and strolled round, thinking the chauffeur would have gone
straight to the Duke with his news. I found the place, and all the chaps
were standing outside open doors, watching a couple of dogs having a
fight. I walked in, without a word to anyone, though I'd have said I came
from the Duke if I'd had to. There was the car; and before one of those
blessed dogs had chewed the other's nose off, I'd polished up my little
job. Then I came to you, feeling a bit better than a few minutes before."

"You ought to be crushed with remorse," said I; but I'm afraid I grinned;
and Dick remarked that if he were King of England he'd give Ropes a
knighthood.

"Heaven knows what the next move will be," I commented, when the avenger
had gone, not too stricken in spirit. "It begins to look as though the
enemy would stick at little, and we can't go on giving tit for tat."

"He won't take open action against you for the present," said the Cherub,
"as he isn't sure you aren't Cristobal O'Donnel; and you're warned if he
tries to strike in the dark. He's probably found out through the Ministry
of War that Cristobal's on leave, so to rid himself of your company he's
resorted to the only means which occurred to him."

"I have to thank you that he had no surer means," I said.

"It's the fashion in Spain, if a friend wants a thing, to tell him it is
his," replied Colonel O'Donnel. "You wanted me for a father, Pilar for a
sister. I said, 'We are yours.' There's not much to be thankful for. I
would do ten times more for your father's son; and my confessor's a
sympathetic man. Besides,