ess aching of the faithful
heart, that he must have been in a sense responsible for the death of
his master. He had pleaded with the young Prince not to enter the
accursed place.

Insanity and suicide though it seemed to be to him, he could not help
it. That was bad enough--but with the prospect of the beautiful
Princess going into the place as well: life had become a horrible thing
to him.

He sought the wayside shrine down the crooked village street. He threw
himself upon his knees before it, vowing candles to every saint who had
granted petty favors to him in the past!

He faced the great cathedral, rearing its pale crest in the dim light
from the stars, vast and exalted above the miserable squalor of those
whose ancestors had created its grandeur with their inspired devotion.
He told the Holy Family and the saints, with tear-choked voice, the
quandary of his noble master, and begged that, though they should never
grant him another request, somehow, somewhere, they find and bring a
gallant adventurer who could turn defeat into victory, one more willing
and competent than himself, to die!

And the answer to this prayer was unburdening his own soul with
semi-religious phrases, in a Kentucky accent, addressed with unwonted
and even picturesque fluency at the stumbling, stodgy Rusty Snow, who
trudged along loaded with luggage and an insatiate hatred of this
"cussed foreign joint," as he labeled it to himself.

The Princess and her maid had, at Jarvis' suggestion, left them with
the automobile in its latest quagmire, to reach the shelter of the inn.
So it was that, as her vassal and his vassal struggled with the luggage
in the dark, she reached the portal of the house of Pedro.

Robledo was hearkening carefully to certain careful instructions from
the Duke of Alva, nodding with a smile of malicious portent at the
final words.

"I will not fall short of my former reputation, your Excellency,"
declared the Don. "When a man reaches my time of life, after a success
in the bull-ring as toreador, in the army as a duelist, and in the
private retinue of so distinguished a nobleman as yourself, he has a
certain pride in his ability.... Indeed, I regret that I must waste my
talents upon a stupid pig of a Yankee."

Shaking his head, Carlos drew out his purse.

"The man is no idiot, unfortunately. He has completely won the
confidence of the Princess, despite his obvious trickeries. Now,
however, I would like to attend to