Rollo did not directly reveal his intentions to his followers, nor did
he take Concha into his confidence. He had not even spoken another word
to her, but a glance had passed between them, and Concha was satisfied.
It had told her much--that he loved her, that his heart held her to be
the best-beloved thing the sun shone on--that there were dangers and
difficulties before them, but that whatever happened neither would look
back nor take their hands from the plough. Yes, oh too wise sceptic, it
was indeed a comprehensive glance, yet it passed as swiftly as when in a
placid lake a swallow dips his wing in full flight and is off again with
the drops pearling from his feathers.

"I wish you to follow me, gentlemen," he said slowly. "Bring your arms.
If her Majesty the Queen-Regent of Spain will not see us, perhaps we may
fare better with the Queen's Consort! I for one intend that we shall!"

Without offering any further explanation, Rollo turned and marched
steadily but not hastily to the chamber door of Senor Munoz, Duke of
Rianzares. The liveried servant who was approaching with a jug of hot
water (the younger of La Giralda's charges on the previous night),
called out to them that they could not at that moment see his
Excellency. He was, it appeared, in the act of dressing. With the coming
of the morning light these two gentlemen of the bed-chamber had resumed
the entire etiquette of the Spanish court, or at least such modified
forms of it as, a little disarranged by altitude and the portent of an
informal and (as yet) unauthorised Prince Consort, prevailed at La
Granja.

But Rollo would have nothing of all this. Enough time had been wasted.
He merely moved his head a hair's-breadth to the side, and the young man
in gold lace, a most deserving _valet-de-chambre_, found himself looking
down at the curved edge of El Sarria's sword-bayonet, whose point
touched his Adam's apple in a suggestive manner. He promptly dropped the
silver pipkin, whereupon the shaving-water of the Duke slowly decanted
itself over the _parqueterie_ floor. A portion scalded the valet's
finely shaped leg, yet he dared not complain, being in mortal fear of
the sword-bayonet. But in spite of the danger, his mind ran on the
question whether the skin would accompany the hose when he had an
opportunity to remove the latter in order to examine his injuries.

Rollo knocked on the Duke's door with loud confident knuckles, not at
all as the gentleman with