theAmbassador's private room.
"Perfectly reliable, sir. I have given you in strict confidence thenames of my informants. They are not the sort of men who makemistakes."
Mr Stonehenge, true type of the urbane and courteous diplomatist, a manof old family, knitted his brow, and pondered a little before he spokeagain.
"I had a private letter from Greatorex about this matter. There is nodoubt great activity everywhere, but especially in this country. Well,the information you have collected is most valuable. It will be givento the King and his advisers, and they must take the best measures theycan."
Stonehenge shook his head sadly, after a prolonged pause. "Revolution,my dear fellow, is in the air all over Europe. Even in our commonsenseand law-abiding country, there are ominous growlings and mutterings.Everywhere, the proletariat is getting out of hand. Sometimes I feelgrateful that I am an old man, that what I dread is coming will not comein my time."
Rossett assented gravely. He was taking himself quite seriously now.His deep love for Isobel Clandon had purified him of light fancies. Hispromotion to this post at Madrid had suggested to him that he might bidadieu to frivolous pursuits, and do a man's work in the world, provehimself a worthy citizen of that vast British Empire of which he wasjustly proud.
Personally, he would have preferred Paris or Rome, or even Vienna. But,at the same time, he was greatly attracted by Spain.
A small nation now, it had once been a great one, attaining its zenithunder the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. It had produced greatgeniuses in the immortal domain of the arts--Cervantes, Lopez de Vega,Murillo.
Once it had lain prostrate under the iron heel of the Conqueror.Napoleon, who had overrun all Europe, had subjugated the once invincibleSpain, crushing her and governing her through the puppet King, hisbrother, Joseph Bonaparte.
Then had come the time of liberation, and the thunder of the Britishguns, under the leadership of Wellington, had freed her from the foreignyoke.
Rossett was very delighted with his chief, one of those sane men ofaffairs, a perfect aristocrat with just sufficient business instinct,who can safely be appointed to an important post. A man who thoughtclearly, saw far ahead, and made few mistakes, a man at once calm,temperate, and equable.
This Ambassador, on his side, had welcomed him warmly. With the naturalprejudice of his class, he always preferred his colleagues to come fromthe old governing families; they thought his thoughts, they spoke hislanguage. If sometimes they lacked a little in brains and initiative,they had a large balance on the right side in deportment and integrity,two very important assets, especially in a monarchical country.
Besides, he was an old friend of Lord Saxham. They had been colleaguestogether in their youth. Lord Saxham was of a too violent and volcanictemperament to rise high in the diplomatic or any other profession. Hadhe possessed a little more balance, he might have sat in many cabinets.But no Prime Minister who knew his business could run the risk ofincluding him. But, none the less, he exercised a certain outsideinfluence.
Rossett wrote every day to his beloved Isobel; if he had time, longletters; if diplomatic affairs were pressing, short ones, assuring herof his unalterable affection. Isobel wrote every day also, mostvoluminous epistles, covering six or eight sheets of the flimsynotepaper.
He wrote once a week to his dear sister, Mary, only second in his heartto Isobel. And Mary also replied at great length, but she was not quiteso voluminous as Isobel. Her letters were generally taken up withreviewing, with her kind, gentle humour, the tantrums of her father, whoappeared to be growing more explosive than ever.
Rossett had exchanged one letter with his father, to which he got areply. Lord Saxham was not a great letter-writer, he kept to the point,and used as few words as possible.
"Glad to hear you are getting on with Stonehenge--a very good fellow!Stick to it, my dear boy, and I will work for you at this end withGreatorex. We shall see you an Ambassador yet."
Guy smiled when he got this brief reply. He knew as well as Mary thathis father did not care twopence as to whether he got on in hisprofession or not. He was only glad his son was out in Spain, becausehis sojourn in that country separated him from Isobel Clandon. Howfrightfully obstinate he was!
He often longed for his sweetheart, but still the days were verypleasant. He speedily found himself popular in the society of Madrid.He had been received graciously by the King, who knew England well,equally graciously by the Queen, in her maidenhood a Princess of our ownBritish stock.
One man in particular had sought to attach himself to him, a man a fewyears older than himself, a certain Duke del Pineda.
Pineda was a handsome-looking fellow who bore himself well, dressedimmaculately, and was received at Court and by the best society.Unquestionably, so far as birth and antecedents were concerned, he was aSpanish Grandee of the first water. And his manners were charming.
But, all the same, there were certain whispers about him. To beginwith, it was well-known that he was impecunious. And a Spanish duke,like an English one, is always looked at askance when he is suspected ofimpecuniosity. A Duke has no reason to be short of ready money.
Stonehenge, who had watched the growing intimacy between the two men,spoke to Rossett one day about it.
"You seem very great friends with Pineda, I observe, Guy." TheAmbassador had fallen into the habit of calling him by his Christianname.
Rossett looked at his chief squarely. "Yes, sir, we go about a gooddeal together. Of course, you have a reason in putting the question."
"He is not on the list of `suspects' you gave me."
Guy smiled quietly. "No, but I think he will be very soon."
Mr Stonehenge gave a sigh of relief. "I see you know your business. Idon't know that Pineda has yet definitely decided, but he will swim withthe tide. If there is a revolution he will try to lead it, likeMirabeau. In the meantime, he keeps in with both parties."
"I have led him on to a few disclosures already," observed Rossett.
"Ah, that is good. I can see that if you stick to it, you will flyhigh. Of course, you know he is as poor as a church mouse."
There was a little grimness in Rossett's smile as he answered: "I amquite sure of that." Stonehenge looked at him keenly. "Ah, I don'twant to be curious, but he has borrowed money of you?"
The other nodded. "A trifle, sir. I thought it was worth it. I shalllose it, of course, and although I have done it in the interests of mycountry, I don't suppose the Government will make it up to me." TheAmbassador laughed. "Virtue is its own reward in this profession, mydear Guy. They can subscribe any amount to the party funds, but theywon't give an extra penny to the men who serve them well. Anyway, I amglad you have taken the measure of Pineda. He has really no brains."
"An absolute ass," corrected Rossett, "an absolute ass, with more than anormal share of vanity."
"A most accurate description," assented the chief. "But, with his birthand connections, he might temporarily make a decent figurehead.Monarchies have had their _rois faineants_. Revolutions when they starthave upper class and middle-class puppets to lead them. Afterwards, aswe know, these are displaced by the extreme element."
Rossett had found no difficulty in financing the impecunious Spanishgrandee. For Great-Aunt Henrietta, on hearing of his promotion, hadforwarded him a very substantial cheque.
Out of this, he had paid off Mr Jackson, and was able to take up hisnew post with a clean sheet. Needless to say that his sister Mary, themost honourable of women, was delighted at the position of affairs.
While events were progressing in Spain, Moreno the journalist had calledon his old friend Farquhar at the familiar chambers in the Temple. Itwas a few days after Moreno's initiation into the brotherhood by Lucue--the initiation which had been followed by that very significantinterview with Violet Hargrave.
The visitor's keen glance detected at once that his old friend lookedgloomy and depressed. And, in truth, Farquhar was in no jubilant moo
d.His rejection by his pretty cousin, Isobel, the knowledge that anotherman had secured what he so coveted, was weighing upon him heavily.
He pulled himself together on Moreno's entrance, and extended a cordialhand. He was a very reticent man, and always hid his feelings as muchas possible.
"Great things have happened since I last saw you, my friend," cried thejournalist gaily. "I am now a full-fledged member of the brotherhood,the great brotherhood. You remember I told you I was going to beinitiated?"
Yes, Farquhar remembered. Moreno had mentioned the fact, and he hadbeen interested. He had thought at the time his friend was runninggreat risks, but no doubt the journalist was playing his own game in hisown subtle way.
Since that conversation, his own affairs had made him forgetful ofeverything save the daily duties of his profession, duties which henever neglected.
He
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