each square and symmetrical as a flag hung out of the window on a still
day.

To the left, however, there were thickets of red geranium, the Prince's
Flower of Old Castilian lore, five or six feet high. Among these Rollo
lost himself, passing through them like a shadow, his head drooped a
little, and his knife ready to his hand.

When he was halfway along the edge of the royal demesne he saw across
the open glade a strange sight, yet one not unwelcome to him.

The palace storehouses had been broken into. Lights moved to and fro
from door to door, and above from window to window. A train of mules and
donkeys stood waiting to be loaded. Thieves' mules they were, without a
single bell or bit jingling anywhere about their accoutrements.

Then Rollo understood in a moment why no further attack had been made
upon the palace. To the ordinary gipsy of the roads and hills--half
smuggler, half brigand, the stores of Estramenian hams, the granaries
full of fine wheat of the Castiles, of maize and rice ready to be loaded
upon their beasts, were more than all possible revenges upon queens and
grandees of Spain.

In losing the daughter of Munoz they had lost both inspiration and
cohesion, and now the natural man craved only booty, and that as
plentifully and as safely as possible. So there in the night torches
were lighted, and barn and byre, storehouse and cellar were ransacked
for those things which are most precious to men gaunt and lantern-jawed
with the hunger of a plague-stricken land.

After this discovery the young Scot moved much more freely and
fearlessly. For it explained what had been puzzling him, how it came
about that so far no sustained or concerted attack had been made upon
the palace.

And this same careless confidence of his, for a reason which will
presently appear, had well-nigh wrecked his plans. All suddenly Rollo
came upon the open door of a little low building, erected something
after the model of a Greek temple. It was undoubtedly the pavilion which
had been mentioned by La Giralda as the place where the goats had been
milked.

Of this Rollo was further assured by the collection of shining silver
utensils which were piled for removal before the door. A light burned
dimly within. It was a dark lantern set on a shelf, among broken
platters and useless crockery. The door was open and its light fell on
half a dozen dusky figures gathered in a knot about some central object
which the young man was not