here was a Carlist commission in the name
of Don Rollo Blair duly made out, a letter from General Elio, chief of
the staff, commending all the four by name and description to all good
servants of Don Carlos, as trustworthy persons engaged on a dangerous
and secret mission. Most of all, however, he seemed to be impressed with
the ring belonging to Etienne, with its revolving gem and concealed
portrait of Carlos the Fifth.

He placed it on his finger and gazing intently, asked to whom it
belonged. As soon as he understood, he summoned the little Frenchman to
his presence. Etienne came at the word, calm as usual, and twirling his
moustache in the manner of Rollo.

"This is your ring?" he demanded of the prisoner. Concha tried to catch
Etienne's eye to signal to him that he must give Cabrera that upon which
his fancy had lighted. But her former lover stubbornly avoided her eye.

"That is my ring," he answered dryly, after a cursory inspection of the
article in question as it lay in the palm of the _guerillero's_ hand.

"It is very precious to you?" asked the butcher of Tortosa,
suggestively.

"It was given to me by my cousin, the king," answered Etienne, briefly.

"Then I presume you do not care to part with it?" said Cabrera, turning
it about on his finger, and holding it this way and that to the light.

"No," said Etienne, coolly. "You see, my cousin might not give me
another!"

But the butcher of Tortosa could be as simple and direct in his methods
as even Rollo himself.

"Will you give it to me?" he said, still admiring it as it flashed upon
his finger.

Etienne looked at the general calmly from head to foot, Concha all the
time frowning upon him to warn him of his danger. But the young man was
preening himself like a little bantam-cock of vanity, glad to be
reckless under the fire of such eyes. He would not have missed the
chance for worlds, so he replied serenely, "Do you still intend to shoot
us?"

"What has that to do with the matter?" growled Cabrera, who was losing
his temper.

"Because if you do," said Etienne, who had been waiting his opportunity,
"you are welcome to the jewel--_after_ I am dead. But if I am to live, I
shall require it for myself!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE BURNING OF THE MILL-HOUSE

Cabrera bit his lip for a moment, frowned still more darkly, and then
burst into a roar of laughter. For the moment the _gamin_ in him was
uppermost--the same curly-pated rascal who had climbed