e, that they imagined that, by a little trouble and
outlay, gold and diamonds might be dug up at St. James sufficient to
enrich themselves and to pay off the national debt of Spain. The Swiss
returned to Compostella 'like a duke,' to use his own words. The affair,
which had at first been kept a profound secret, was speedily divulged. It
was, indeed, resolved that the investigation, which involved consequences
of so much importance, should take place in a manner the most public and
imposing. A solemn festival was drawing nigh, and it was deemed
expedient that the search should take place upon that day. The day
arrived. All the bells in Compostella pealed. The whole populace
thronged from their houses; a thousand troops were drawn up in a square;
the expectation of all was wound up to the highest pitch. A procession
directed its course to the church of San Roque. At its head were the
captain-general and the Swiss, brandishing in his hand the magic rattan;
close behind walked the _meiga_, the Gallegan witch-wife, by whom the
treasure-seeker had been originally guided in the search; numerous masons
brought up the rear, bearing implements to break up the ground. The
procession enters the church; they pass through it in solemn march; they
find themselves in a vaulted passage. The Swiss looks around. 'Dig
here,' said he suddenly. 'Yes, dig here,' said the meiga. The masons
labour; the floor is broken up--a horrible and fetid odour arises. . .

"Enough, no treasure was found, and my warning to the unfortunate Swiss
turned out but too prophetic. He was forthwith seized and flung into the
horrid prison of St. James, amidst the execrations of thousands, who
would have gladly torn him limb from limb.

"The affair did not terminate here. The political opponents of the
government did not allow so favourable an opportunity to escape for
launching the shafts of ridicule. The Moderados were taunted in the
cortes for their avarice and credulity, whilst the Liberal press wafted
on its wings through Spain the story of the treasure-hunt at St. James.

"'After all, it was a _trampa_ {187} of Don Jorge's,' said one of my
enemies. 'That fellow is at the bottom of half the picardias which
happen in Spain.'

"Eager to learn the fate of the Swiss, I wrote to my old friend Rey
Romero, at Compostella. In his answer he states: 'I saw the Swiss in
prison, to which place he sent for me, craving my assistance, for the
sake of the