the end, since Monica and I
understood each other at last. But just for the moment everything seemed
difficult. The Duke was sure now that I was Casa Triana, and not Cristobal
O'Donnel. He would almost certainly make all the trouble he could, and a
man of his influence could make a good deal. As his attempt to stick a
dagger into me--by way of a quick solution--had been covered by the
_capucha_ of a _cofradia_, I could not take revenge by laying a counter
accusation. I might say I had recognized his voice, and that I thought I
had recognized the dagger bought in Toledo; but I could prove nothing, and
the Duke would score.

Still, as the Cherub remarked consolingly, he could not do much worse than
force me out of Spain. Neither I, nor anyone else, had ever said in so
many words that I was Cristobal O'Donnel. If people had taken my identity
for granted because of a few round-about hints, and because for a joke I
had borrowed a friend's uniform for a day or two, nothing very serious
could be made out of that after all; and as Cristobal really was on leave,
he need not be involved. He was a good officer, whose services were
valued, and I was not to worry lest harm should come upon him. I need
think only of Monica and of myself. Had I formed any idea of what to do
next?

"I must get Monica out of Carmona's house," I said.

"You'll have to lie in wait and snatch her from under their noses next
time they show them," suggested Dick; "unless--"

"Unless?"

"Carmona keeps his indoors until he's arranged to have yours politely
deported."

"I can't be got rid of in an hour."

"You could to-morrow."

"I'm afraid you can," sighed the Cherub, "and that, though I shall do my
best, I may be powerless to help you."

"What if it were known that he saved the King yesterday?" Pilar asked her
father.

"The King is going away to-morrow. You know, he's off to England in a few
days. Besides, the incident to-day will be hushed up. The King will know,
of course, and a few others; but it will be kept out of the
papers,--anyhow, until they've got their hands on both the men concerned."

"I've still got to-night," I said, "and it's not eleven yet. I hoped that
in the confusion Monica had given her mother and Carmona the slip, and
that if I waited here I might find her again. I thought she might try to
get back to the chapel where we had our talk, trusting that I'd look for
her there. But she didn't come, and I searched everywhere in v