s which had been enacted here. The drama of
widowed Egilona and her handsome Moorish prince, ruined by her love; the
tragedy of Abu Said, done to death by Pedro for the sake of his "fair
ruby, great as a racket ball," and the store of gems for which men still
search secretly in hidden nooks of the Alcazar; the murder of the young
Master of Santiago, who came to Pedro as an honoured guest; the love story
of Maria de Padilla, whose spirit, the guardian whispered, could be seen
to this day flitting in moonlight and shadow along her favourite garden
walks, or trailing white robes through rooms which had been hers.

"Perhaps, as the moon is full, Maria will appear to-night in the garden to
the Duke of Carmona and his guests," said Pilar; and I knew from this
preface that our probation was at an end.

The attendant laughed. "Perhaps," he replied; "but I think there will be
too much noise to please her. The Duke has engaged a troupe of dancers and
guitarists to entertain his friends."

"No doubt King Don Pedro used to amuse his in the same way," remarked the
Cherub, "employing the forerunners of Ramiro Olivero and his school
maybe."

"It is Ramiro Olivero who performs to-night," said the attendant, playing
into our hands.

"Of course! He is the favoured one in such affairs," assented the Cherub.
"It ought to be a pretty entertainment, and interesting to the Duke's
English guests. It will be somewhere in the gardens?"

"In the lower garden of the Moorish kiosk," was the unsuspecting reply.

Pilar looked at me, and her eyes said, "The key you wanted is in your
hand."

XXVII

MOONLIGHT IN THE GARDEN

When the Cherub dies and is gathered to his Irish and Spanish fathers (far
distant be the day!) he will not know a happy moment in Paradise unless he
is doing something ingenuously kind for somebody. It is my conviction that
he will have to be made a guardian angel; and I mentioned this theory to
him as he took me to the house of Ramiro Olivero, ex-bull-fighter, present
professor of Spanish dancing.

The others were waiting in the car, as, according to the Cherub's plan of
campaign, he and I were to visit Olivero alone.

We climbed many stairs to the flat where the celebrated man lives and
conducts his school for dancing. He it was who came to the door, and it
was a sight worth seeing to watch his somewhat hard, middle-aged features
relax in response to cherubic murmurings.