atement that he has practised as a bandit, or stopped a coach
on the highway in the name of King Carlos Quinto that he might examine
more at his ease the governmental mail bags. But our Sergeant--well, I
am man-sworn and without honour if he hath not many a time taken
blackmail without any such excuse!"

Concha seemed to be considering deeply. Her pretty mouth was pursed up
like a ripe strawberry, and her brows were knitted so fiercely that a
deep line divided the delicately arched eyebrows.

"And to this I can add somewhat," she began presently; "they say (I know
not with what truth) that I have some left-handed gipsy blood in me--and
if that man be not a Gitano--why, then I have never seen one. Besides,
he speaks with La Giralda in a tongue which neither I nor Don Rollo
understand."

"But I thought," said El Sarria, astonished for the first time, "that
both you and Don Rollo understood the crabbed gipsy tongue! Have I not
heard you speak it together?"

"As it is commonly spoken--yes," she replied, "we have talked many a
time for sport. But this which is spoken by the Sergeant and La Giralda
is deep Romany, the like of which not half a dozen in Spain understand.
It is the old-world speech of the Rom, before it became contaminated by
the jargon of fairs and the slang of the travelling horse-clipper."

"Then," said El Sarria, slowly, "it comes to this--'tis you and not I
who mistrust these two?"

"No, that I do not," cried Concha, emphatically; "I have tried La
Giralda for many years and at all times found her faithful, so that her
bread be well buttered and a draught of good wine placed alongside it.
But the Sergeant is a strong man and a secret man----"

"Well worth the watching, then?" said El Sarria, looking her full in the
face.

Concha nodded.

"Carlist or no, he works for his own hand," she said simply.

"Shall ye mention the matter to Don Rollo?" asked El Sarria.

"Nay--what good?" said Concha, quickly; "Don Rollo is brave as a bull of
Jaen, but as rash. You and I will keep our eyes open and say nothing.
Perhaps--perhaps we may have doubted the man somewhat over-hastily. But
as for me, I will answer for La Giralda."

"For me," said El Sarria, sententiously, "I will answer for no
woman--save only Dolores Garcia!"

Concha looked up quickly.

"I also am a woman," she said, smiling.

"And quite well able to answer for yourself, Senorita!" returned El
Sarria, grimly.

For the answers of Ramon Garc