s beaten into unconsciousness. But of
the cautious generalship which draws off in safety and lives to fight
another day, Rollo had not a trace.

"Your companions--nay, I know nothing of them," said the veteran: "true
it is he of the stoutness desired to buy my wine, and when I gave him a
sample, fine as iced Manzanilla, strong as the straw-wine of Jerez, he
spat it forth upon the ground and vowed that as to price he preferred
the ordinary robbers of the highway!"

Rollo laughed a little at this description of John Mortimer's method of
doing business, but he was eager to find his comrades, so he hastily
excused himself, apologised for his companion's rudeness, setting it
down to the Senor Mortimer's ignorance of the language, and turned to go
out.

But as he passed into the arcaded _patio_ of the inn, the silent
maid-servant passed him with a flash of white cotton gown. Her grass
shoes made no noise on the pavement. As she passed, Rollo glanced at
her quickly and carelessly, as it was his nature to look at every woman.
She was beckoning to him to follow her. There could be no doubt of that.
She turned abruptly through a low doorway upon the top of which Rollo
nearly knocked out his brains.

The Scot followed down a flight of steps, beneath blossoming oleander
bushes, and found himself presently upon a narrow terrace-walk, divided
from a neighbouring garden by a lattice of green-painted wood.

The silent maid-servant jerked her thumb a little contemptuously over
her shoulder, elevated her chin, and turning on her heel disappeared
again into her own domains.

Rollo stood a moment uncertain whether to advance or retreat. He was in
a narrow path which skirted a garden in which fuchsias, geraniums, and
dwarf palms grew abundantly. Roses also clambered among the
lattice-work, peered through the chinks, and drooped invitingly over the
top.

A little to the right the path bent somewhat, and round the corner Rollo
could hear a hum of voices. It was in this direction also that the
silent handmaid of Gaspar Perico's kitchen had jerked her thumb.

Rollo moved slowly along the path, and presently he came in sight of a
pretty damsel on the farther side of the trellis paling, deeply engaged
in a most interesting conversation. So far as he could see she was tall
and dark, with the fully formed Spanish features, a little heavy perhaps
to Rollo's taste, but charming now with the witchery of youth and
conscious beauty.

Her han