d my secretary gone ashore without my orders?
Was this a piece of zeal on his part to make preparations for our
disembarking, or might it be something worse? and, if so, what? Every
moment increased the trouble of my thoughts. Certainly, misfortunes do
cast their shadows before them, for I felt that strange and overwhelming
sense of depression that never is causeless. I ran over every species
of casualty that I could imagine, but except highway robbery,
actual "brigandage," I could not fancy any real positive danger to be
anticipated from the Chevalier.

How different was my mood from what I expected it would have been on
nearing shore! Where were all my visions of pomp and splendor? Where the
proud circumstances of my more than princely state? Alas! I would have
given a full fourth of my wealth to be landed unostentatiously and
quietly, and to have my mind relieved from all dread of the cursed
Chevalier.

That I did not overrate the peril before me, events soon proved.

CHAPTER XXIX. THE CARCEL MORENA AT MALAGA

As we sailed proudly into the harbor of

Malaga, my attention--at first directed to the striking features of the
shore, where lay a city actually embowered amid orange-groves--was
soon drawn off by the appearance of a boat, rowed by twelve men, which
approached the ship. The national flag of Spain floated from a standard
in her stern, and I could mark the glitter of arms and uniforms on board
of her.

"The officers of health, I suppose?" said I, carelessly, to the captain.

"No, Senhor, these are soldiers of the garrison."

"Ah, I understand," said I, "they are on the alert as to whom they land
in these troublous times; for it was the period of the great Carlist
struggle.

"Possibly," was his dry remark, and he moved away.

A hoarse challenge from the boat was answered by something from the
ship; and the "accommodation-ladder" was immediately lowered, and an
officer ascended to the deck, followed by two of his men, with their
side-arms.

Some of the ordinary greetings being interchanged between the captain
and the officer, the latter said, "My business here is with the person
styling himself the Conde de Cregano. Where is he?"

"That is my name, Senhor," said I, with a studious admixture of civility
and condescension.

"Please to walk this way, sir," said the officer, leading towards the
poop cabin, and preceding me with a degree of assurance that boded ill
for his impression of my dignity.