no interest in
the business in the garage, and they were not at all concerned in the
success of Hillyard's excursion. That a stranger should carry away with
him pleasant recollections of the beauties of Mallorca, was a matter of
supreme indifference to them all. But they were engaged in the favourite
pursuit of the Spaniards of the towns. They were getting through a
certain small portion of the day, without doing any work, and without
spending any money. The majority favoured the road past Valdemosa, over
the Pass of Soller to Miramar and its rocky coast on the north-east side
of the island, as indeed Hillyard knew the majority must. For there is
no road like it for beauty in the Balearics, and few in all Spain.

"I will go that way, then," said Hillyard, and he strolled off to his
luncheon.

He drove afterwards over the plain, between groves of olive and almond
trees with gnarled stems and branches white with dust, mounted by the
twisting road, terraces upon his left and pine-clothed mountainside upon
his right, past Valdemosa to the Pass. The great sweep of rock-bound
coast and glittering sea burst upon his view, and the boom of water
surging into innumerable caves was like thunder to his ears. At a little
gate upon the road the car was stopped at a word from Hillyard.

"I am going in here," he said. "I may be a little while."

The chauffeur looked at Hillyard with surprise. Hillyard had never been
to the house before, but he could not mistake it from the description
which he had been given. He passed through an orchard to the door of an
outrageous villa, built in the style of a Swiss chalet and glaring with
yellow paint. A man in his shirt-sleeves came to the door.

"Senor Jose Medina?" Hillyard inquired.

He held out his card and was ushered into the room of ceremony which
went very well with the exterior of the yellow chalet. A waxed floor,
heavy white lace curtains at the windows, a table of walnut-wood, chairs
without comfort, but with gold legs, all was new and never to be used
and hideous. Hillyard looked around him with a nod of comprehension.
This is what its proprietor would wish for. With a hundred old houses to
select from for a model--no! This is the way his fancies would run. The
one beauty of the place, its position, was Nature's. Hillyard went to
the window, which was on the side of the house opposite to the door. He
looked down a steep terraced garden of orange trees and bright flowers
to the fo