"You'll be able to put in five days' shooting a week with us, Bill, if you like," St. Nivel said, "before we go over to Sandringham. My invitation is for next Thursday week, so you'll be able to get your hand in."

This gave a much-needed change to my ideas, but before I packed up to leave Bath I went down and had another look at 190 Monmouth Street.

I rang the bell and a woman opened the door with a baby in her arms.

"I'm the sergeant's wife, please sir," she said in reply to my inquiry. "We was put in here by Inspector Bull."

"Then nothing has been heard of the old lady?" I asked.

"No, sir," she replied, "nothing. The neighbours hardly knew she was here, she showed herself so seldom; but the woman that used to come in and do odd jobs for her says she's been living here ten year."

"Ten years!" I repeated in astonishment. "How on earth did she pass her time?"

"The woman says, sir, she was always writing, writing all day."

"How was she fed?" I asked anxiously. "I suppose no tradesmen called?"

"No, sir," the sergeant's wife replied, "the woman I am speaking of, who lives in the country, used to come three times a week and clean up for her, and each time she would bring her a supply of simple food, eggs and milk and such-like, to last her till she came again."

I put my hand in my pocket and gave her half a crown.

"I suppose you don't mind my looking round the house," I suggested. "I should like to see it once more before I leave Bath."

"Well," she said hesitatingly, "I'm afraid it's against orders, but——"

The woman who hesitates is lost; she let me in.

I went with her straight down to the sitting-room. It was locked, but she had the key for cleaning purposes, and let me in.

"It looks very dreary now, don't it, sir," she queried, "in spite of all the china and finery and that?"

Yes, she was right, the room by daylight looked very dismal; the broken looking-glass over the mantelpiece did not improve its appearance.

I would have given a good deal to have been able to open the safe again if I had had the key with me and to see if it contained any further secrets, but this, for the present, was out of the question.

I had, however, the satisfaction of knowing that the place was well guarded, and was not likely to be interfered with perhaps for years. I went into the other rooms—the sergeant and his wife were occupying the kitchens—and found nothing there but dust. One or two were locked up, but it was perfectly impossible to see what was in them. An inspection of the keyholes revealed only darkness. I came down from the top storey with a sigh at its desolation.

I left the old place and walked rather sadly down the long street back to my hotel.

I wondered as I went what had become of the poor wounded old lady; whether she had died and her body was thrust away somewhere in hiding without Christian burial, or did she by some miracle still live? But this latter suggestion seemed an utter impossibility from the state in which I had left her. So I packed up, and on the next morning, with my two cousins, left the tower of Bath Abbey behind and started en route for Bannington Hall, the Mid Norfolk mansion of Lord St. Nivel.

The Vanboroughs were relatives of my mother's; she was one of that noble family, and the present peer's aunt. Dear soul, she had long since gone to her rest, following my father, the Chancery Judge, in about a year after his own demise.

The Vanboroughs were celebrated for their beauty, and my mother had been no exception to the rule. My rather stern, sad features had, I suppose, come from my father, but still I think I had my mother's eyes, and a look of her about the mouth when I smiled.

At least my cousin, Ethel Vanborough, said I had.

There was always something like home about dear old Bannington to me, with a sniff of the sea when you first stepped out of the carriage at the door.

The big comfortable old landau with its pair of strong horses had now, however, given place to a smart motor car, upholstered like a little drawing-room.

My cousin, Lord St. Nivel, was certainly fully up to date, and his sister, Lady Ethel, was, if possible, a little more so. They were twins. Left orphans as children, the two had grown up greatly attached to one another naturally, and being the sole survivors of a very rich family and inheriting all its savings and residues, they had an extremely good time of it together without any great desire to exchange their happy brother and sisterhood for the bonds of matrimony. Still they were very young, being only four-and-twenty.

I spent a very happy ten days with them in the glorious old mansion full of recollections and relics of bygone ages. Its very red brick peacefulness had a soothing effect upon me, and I will defy any one to experience greater comfort than we did coming in tired out after a day's tramp after the partridges—for St. Nivel was an advocate of "rough" shooting—and sitting round the great blazing fire of logs in the hall while Ethel poured out our tea.

I will admit that Ethel and I indulged in a mild flirtation; we always did when we met, especially when we had not seen one another for some time, which was the case in the present instance.

Still it was only a cousinly flirtation and never went beyond a pressure of the hand, or on very rare occasions a kiss, when we met by chance perhaps, in the gloaming of the evening, in one of the long, old world corridors, when no one was about.

Shooting almost every day, I soon got back into my old form again.

"Yes, you'll do," remarked my cousin, when I brought down my seventh "rocketter," in succession the day before the royal shoot. "If you shoot like that to-morrow, Bill, you'll be asked to Sandringham again!"

A few words from my cousin to the courteous old secretary had gained me the invitation I so desired; I was determined to do my very best to keep up my reputation as a good sporting shot. We motored over the next morning; Ethel with us. It was always understood that St. Nivel's invitations included her, in fact, she was a decided favourite in the royal circle, and being an expert photographer, handy with her snapshotter, always had something interesting to talk about when she came across the Greatest Lady.

We found the members of the shooting party lounging about the terrace, for the most part smoking and waiting for their host. Several motor cars were in readiness to carry them off to the various plantations.

Presently our host arrived, and we were complete; I heard him remark to one of the guests as he got into his car—

"There are three more of those lazy fellows to arrive," he said, laughing, "but they must come on by themselves in another car."

Our first shot was on the Wolverton Road about half-way down towards the station, and here the birds were as plentiful as blackberries. I never before had seen such a head of game. The beaters entered the plantations in a row, standing close together, and moved one step at a time, each step sending out perhaps a dozen pheasants, who were, as a rule, quickly disposed of by the guns around.

Of course there were exceptions: there were those who missed their birds both barrels time after time, or still worse sent them away sorely wounded with their poor shattered legs hanging helplessly down.

These were the sort of shots who were not required at Sandringham, and, as a rule, were not asked again. I, however, was fortunate; being in good practice and cool, I brought down my birds one after the other, as St. Nivel remarked afterwards, "like a bit of clockwork," and I had the satisfaction of hearing our host inquire who I was. We had finished one plantation very satisfactorily, as the heaps of dead pheasants testified, and were moving off to the next when I got a shock.

A motor car came rushing on to the road, and stopped quite near to where I was strolling along in conversation with one of the equerries.

"Ah! you lazy fellows!" exclaimed our host, "you are losing all the best of the sport."

A well-known foreign nobleman, a tall, dark, handsome fellow, got out first and advanced full of apologies, hat in hand.

My glance was fixed upon his very prepossessing face and I did not at the moment notice the gentleman who followed him. When I did I started violently and the equerry walking with me asked what was the matter.

"Nothing is the matter particularly," I answered, passing my hand before my eyes, "but can you tell me the name of that gentleman who has just got out of the car?"

"You mean the red-faced man with the black imperial?" he suggested.

"Yes," I answered.

"Oh! That is some Bavarian duke," he answered, "not royal, but a Serene Somebody. I forget his name myself, but I will ask some one, and tell you."

A friend in the Household was passing at the time and he caught his arm and whispered him a question.

"Yes, of course," he said, turning again to me; "he is the Duke Rittersheim, one of those small German principalities swept away long ago, and of which only the title and the family estates remain."

I turned and took another look at His Serene Highness. Yes, Duke of Rittersheim or not, the red-faced, dark-haired foreigner, who was advancing half cringingly, hat in hand and full of apologies, was none other than Saumarez, the man who had tried to torture me in the tower of Cruft's Folly!



CHAPTER IX

THE DUKE OF RITTERSHEIM

That little rencontre took my nerve away, and I shot very badly at the next plantation, so badly—I missed two birds—that I was almost inclined to give up and go home; but then lunch came—in a marquee—and its luxury and the delightful wine restored me. I shot well again all the afternoon.

Yes, it was a glorious day, and I enjoyed it immensely when I got Saumarez—or His Serene Highness—out of my mind. He was a superb shot, I will say that of him; he fired from the left shoulder as many men do, but in his case I knew it was on account of his glass eye.

Walking to the last plantation with one of the Household and casually discussing all manner of ordinary subjects, I ventured a chance remark concerning the Duke of Rittersheim.

"His Serene Highness is a fine shot," I said, "an old sportsman, it is easy to see."

"Yes," answered my companion, "he is supposed to be one of the finest shots in Germany."

"And yet he has a glass eye?" I ventured.

The man I was walking with turned round and stared at me.

"Now, how in the name of goodness did you know that?" he inquired. "It is supposed to be a secret, and the artificial eye looks so natural under his pince-nez that very few know of its existence."

"But you are quite right," he continued; "he lost it in a shooting accident when he was a boy."

This made the matter quite certain in my mind, and I determined to confront His Serene Highness at the first opportunity and see what effect it would have upon him; but I might have saved myself the trouble of this resolution; subsequent event proved pretty conclusively that he had recognised me from the first.

We were all arranged for the final shoot of the day, when to my astonishment I found myself next to the Duke of Rittersheim. He was on my right hand, and therefore had me well under his sound left eye.

I must admit that I felt uneasy when I saw him there; nevertheless, I went on shooting coolly and had the pleasure once or twice of "wiping his eye." I even heard a distinct "Bravo" come from him at one of my shots.

I was, however, far from comfortable in having him for such a close neighbour under the circumstances, and wished him a hundred miles away. We shot on until the light got very bad, but there were only a few more yards to be driven, so we went on. We had nearly finished when I noticed the Duke of Rittersheim send his loader away to pick up something he had dropped.

I noted the man run off to fulfil the request, and at the same moment my eyes were attracted by the last rays of the red sun, already set, reddening far away the waters of Lynn Deeps.

It was a lovely sight, and my gaze rested on it some moments; then I suddenly realised that I was practically alone with the Bavarian Duke, as my loader had walked on a few yards with his back to me.

The Duke was standing quite alone, and in that moment I saw his gun go up to his shoulder at a bird, then in a flash it turned towards me!

I realised my danger in a moment and threw myself flat on my face. As I lay there I heard the report of his gun, the swish of the charge, and a cry from my loader. He had shot him!

I sprang to my feet, and ran to the man, who was standing holding his arm; but quick as I was the Duke was there before me.

"Are you hurt, my man?" he asked in his sharp tone which I knew so well. "Where are you hit?"

"It's in the arm, sir," the Norfolk man answered; "it be set fast."

"Look here," said the Duke, quickly taking out a note case. "I can see you are not badly hurt. Take these bank-notes; here are twenty pounds. Go quietly away and say nothing about it and I'll give you another twenty. Do you understand?"

"Yes, me lord," answered the man, who probably had never had so much money before in his life. "I'll keep mum."

"Can you walk all right?" asked the Duke.

"Yes, Your Royal Highness," answered the poor fellow, who was getting mixed, feeling, no doubt, very faint.

"Then off with you at once," cried the Duke, "and send some one up in the morning to the Duke of Rittersheim for the other twenty pounds. Tell the people," he added, as the man went slowly off, "that you have had a bad fall."

"Yes, Your Majesty," answered the bewildered, wounded man as he disappeared in the dusk.

I stood watching the Duke as he went coolly back without a word to me to his place; this, then, was the cool, resourceful scoundrel I had to deal with!

* * * * *

Sitting by the big fire in the smoking-room at Bannington Hall that night after dinner, I told St. Nivel the whole of the incident of the shooting of the beater by the Duke of Rittersheim.

"Well, that's the limit," commented Jack, taking the cigar out of his mouth; "he must be a cool-headed scoundrel. I never heard of such nerve!"

"It's a nice thing to have a brute like that on one's track, isn't it?" I remarked dejectedly; "it makes life hardly worth living."

Jack sat and smoked placidly for some moments looking into the fire. He was thinking.

Presently he turned to me.

"Look here, Bill," he remarked, "Ethel and I had a talk this evening before dinner about matters generally and she has started what I call a very good idea."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Of course, she knows all about your promise to the old lady; you told her, you know."

"Certainly," I answered, "I told you both. I know you never keep secrets from one another."

"Well, she knows," he proceeded, "therefore, that you have made up your mind to go to Valoro with that packet the old lady gave you."

"Well?"

Jack brought his hand down with a smack on my knee.

"Let us come too, old chap," he cried—"both of us—Ethel and I."

The idea to me was both pleasant and astonishing. I had never thought of it.

"But won't Ethel find it rather a fatiguing journey?" I suggested.

He was quite amused at the idea.

"I can assure you," he said, "that she can stand pretty nearly as much as I can. She's a regular little amazon. That's what Ethel is."

"Very well, then," I replied, "nothing will suit me better than to have yours and Ethel's charming society. As a matter of fact I am beginning to look forward to the expedition keenly."

The next few days were given up to wild speculations on our coming journey and its results.

"I hear the country is lovely," exclaimed Ethel, poring over a map; "at any rate the voyage will be splendid!"

It was settled that we should start from Liverpool to Monte Video, thence make our way by rail across country to our destination, Valoro, a beautiful city in the mountains of Aquazilia, in the neighbourhood of which we were told we should get splendid sport.

Therefore we made a flying trip to town, especially to visit Purdey's and supply ourselves with the very latest things in sporting guns and rifles.

Out of the very liberal provision the old lady had made for my expenses, I felt justified in being extravagant, and provided myself with a beautiful gun—the right barrel having a shallow rifling for a bullet should we meet with very big game—and a perfect gem of an express rifle; these two were the latest models in sporting firearms.

Ethel and St. Nivel, having an unlimited command of money, ordered pretty nearly everything they were advised to take, with the result that we required a small pantechnicon van to take our combined luggage.

There was, however, one thing I was very particular about, and upon which I took the advice of an old friend who had travelled much.

I bought a first-rate Target revolver—a Colt—with which I knew I could make accurate shooting. I would not trust my life to one of those unscientific productions which are just as likely to shoot a friend as an enemy, and are more in the nature of pop-guns than defensive weapons. I had reason to congratulate myself later on that I had taken such a precaution.

"There's one thing you really must see to at once, Bill," exclaimed St. Nivel, one day when we were all busy making out lists of our requirements in the great library and posting them off to the stores. "You must get a servant."

Now I had been, for the last three months, doing for myself; my old servant had left me some months before and I had not filled his place with another. Times, too, had not been very prosperous with me and I seriously thought of curtailing that luxury and brushing my own clothes.

The liberal allowance for my travelling expenses, however, plus the thousand pound note, put quite a different complexion on matters. I felt now thoroughly justified in providing myself with a first-rate man, and for that purpose I took my cousin's advice and put an advertisement in the Morning Post.

"A gentleman requires a good valet, used to travelling. Excellent reference required." I gave my name and St. Nivel's address to ensure getting a good one.

That was the wording of it, and I arranged to run up to town for a day to make my selection from them. From the numerous applicants I selected six, and told them to meet me at Long's Hotel.

St. Nivel accompanied me to give me the benefit of his advice, which was perhaps not likely to be of much service to me. He employed a refined person himself who asked and got L150 a year.

The man who took my fancy was an old cavalry soldier named Brooks who had been out of work for a time, but who yet bore the stamp of a man who knew his work and would do it. I closed with him for a modest L70 a year, and he was glad to get it.

"When will you be ready to come, Brooks?" I asked when we had settled preliminaries. "We shall be off by the next boat to La Plata, and I shall want you to get on with the packing as soon as you can."

"For the matter of that, sir," he answered, "I could come now. I've no chick nor child to hold me. I'm a widower without encumbrances."

I told the "widower without encumbrances" to come the next day, and St. Nivel and I jumped into a hansom to catch the five o'clock express, glad to get out of the thick atmosphere of London into the bright crisp air of Norfolk.

"I think you've done right," remarked St. Nivel in the train, "in getting an old cavalry man. He'll understand hunting things."

As I could not afford to hunt I missed the point of the signification.

Ah, those were happy days, those last few before we started!

All our serious preparations were finished and we had only to give a little general supervision to the packing of our respective servants. Ethel's experienced maid was going with her, of course.

This done, we used to stroll about together—the three of us—and enjoy the last few hours of the dear old place as much as we could in the beautiful bright weather.

I think Ethel and I even used to get a little bit romantic in the lovely moonlight nights, when the old oak-panelled corridors and staircases were bathed in the soft light. But we were very far from being in love with one another all the same.

I shall never forget that time of peace, which came in a period of storm and trial; the old red mansion with the river running not a hundred yards from it, and the graceful swans sailing to and fro, the glorious old trees of the avenue, the fine broad terrace with its splendid views over the low, undulating country, with a glimpse of Lynn Deeps on one hand and the white towers of St. Margaret's, the great church in the ancient town, on the other.

The dreamy, old-world air of the place, the smell even of the fresh-turned earth in the great gardens, the cawing of the circling rooks—it all comes back to me as if I had but walked out of it all an hour ago.

However, the morning soon came when we were to bid adieu to it all, and in the hurry and scurry of it and the race down to the station in the motor—for we were late, Ethel's maid having forgotten an important hat—perhaps we forgot all our peaceful happiness in our feverish speculations on our voyage across the Atlantic to that distant South American Republic, Aquazilia, and its mountain capital, Valoro.



CHAPTER X

THE PLOT THAT FAILED

Settling on the Hotel Victoria as our headquarters, we prepared to make the two days before our sailing as amusing as possible, but I always had before me the nightmare of the little carved casket which I was to carry with me.

I decided I would take no risks with it. I would go and fetch it from my solicitors on the afternoon of our departure, on the way to the station. It was very evident to me that this casket contained something of the greatest possible interest to several people, including in particular His Serene Highness, the Duke of Rittersheim.

When, then, Ethel, St. Nivel and I had crowded all the visits to theatres and matinees we could into the intervening two days, we sat taking our last luncheon in England, probably, for some time to come.

"I am so glad we are going by this boat instead of the next," remarked St. Nivel, taking a glass of Chartreuse from the attentive waiter who was on the look out for a parting tip; "a fortnight makes all the difference in that part of the world; we shall just get there for the tail end of the summer, which they say is glorious. A bit of a change, I am thinking," he added, with a glance out of the window, "to this kind of diluted pea-soup weather we get here in November."

"Let us see," said Ethel, with a calculating air, "this is the last week in November. We arrive there the second week in December, and the rainy season does not begin until the middle of January. We shall have a clear month to enjoy ourselves in!"

"Very delightful," I replied; "a delightful voyage under delightful circumstances."

I bowed to my cousin Ethel as I raised my liqueur glass to my lips.

She blew away the smoke of the cigarette she took from hers—we were in a private room—and smiled at me.

"You flattering old courtier!" she answered; "you get those airs through writing romances. What is more to the purpose, have you secured those three state cabins on the C deck of the Oceana?"

"Well," I answered laconically, "I've paid the money for them at any rate. Sixty-six pounds the three, over and above first-class fare!"

"And very cheap, too," replied Ethel; "the comfort of sleeping in a real brass bedstead instead of those intolerable bunks is worth three times as much!"

I looked at my cigar and said nothing; but for the generosity of the old lady of Monmouth Street, Bath, a bunk would have been my lot, without doubt, in the ordinary way. Though she had laid a heavy burden upon me, she certainly had a kind consideration for my comfort.

Further conversation was put an end to by the entry of my new man, Brooks, with my travelling coat.

"The motor's at the door, sir," he announced.

I had engaged a special motor-brougham to take me from the hotel to my lawyers in Lincoln's Inn, and from there to the station with the precious casket in my possession; I had already banked the notes. I wished to make the journey as rapidly as possible, and Brooks was to accompany me, my luggage going on under the care of St. Nivel's man.

"Then au revoir until we meet at Euston," I said to my cousins; "mind you are in good time for the train."

"We shall be all right," answered Ethel. "I wish we were coming with you. I feel rather anxious about you."

"Don't you worry, Ethel," St. Nivel replied, "he'll be all right. He's not a child."

I went off and got into the motor, Brooks taking his seat on the box.

We rattled away through the crowded streets in the dim half-fog that was enveloping the town, and duly arrived at the dreary-looking offices of the lawyers.

There I did not lose a minute; they had been duly apprised of my coming and I found Watson the managing clerk already waiting for me.

"Here are the two packets, Mr. Anstruther," he said, handing them to me; "they are just as you left them, you see, and the seals are intact."

I examined them and found them quite correct.

"What a fortunate thing," added Watson, as I buttoned my overcoat over the pocket in which I had stowed the little parcels, "that I saw you push those two packets into the pigeon-holes, and stopped that scoundrel from laying his hands on them!"

"Yes, it was a very lucky thing," I replied, "and I am very much obliged to you for your promptness in gathering my meaning."

"Yes, it was a fortunate escape for you, sir," he added; "when I saw you go away with those two men, I never felt more miserable in my life. But, of course, we read all about the truth of it next afternoon in the evening paper. One can hardly believe such things possible in these times with our efficient police."

"Ye-es,"—I hesitated, with my mind on the thick necks and whisky-drinking proclivities of some of the "'tecs" I had known,—"I suppose we can never rely upon absolute safety in this world."

Then as I spoke a thought struck me; I noticed that the packets were rather bulging out in the pocket in which I had placed them. I had an idea I would change their position. I quickly took them out and placed one in each of my trousers pockets; there was then nothing in my appearance to denote where they were. In the result, it was a very lucky thing I had taken this precaution.

To preserve the secret of their whereabouts, I kept my hand in the breast of my travelling coat as if I were guarding the precious parcels there, and in this way I left the lawyers' office and made for the motor-brougham, the door of which was being held open by my man Brooks.

Just as I was half-way across the pavement, a man selling evening papers came rushing by and shouting—

"'Orrible murder! Suicide of the assassin! 'Orrible murder!"

He was running very fast and apparently not looking where he was going, for he knocked roughly against me as he passed, dislodging my hand from my breast; but Brooks he ran right into, full tilt, with the result that my man lost his balance and sprawled on the pavement.

It was then that a very fussy little over-dressed man came bustling up out of the fog, accompanied by a very attractive lady.

"A more disgraceful thing, sir," he said, addressing me, "I have never seen before. I trust you are not hurt, sir?"

"No, thank you, I'm all right," I answered, half inclined to laugh at Brooks scrambling up from the pavement and brushing himself, for it was a wet, slimy day and the pavements muddy. The newspaper man had disappeared.

"Why, I declare," exclaimed the little man, "the scamp has covered you with mud!"

I looked down; there certainly was a splash of mud on the front of my coat. I wondered how it had got there. Despite my assertions, the two—both the lady and the gentleman—insisted on brushing me, until in very desperation I had to get into the brougham out of their way. Then they suddenly made me very polite bows and disappeared.

Brooks mounted the box, and we rattled away to Euston. There was one thing which attracted my attention, however, on that short journey. Brooks' ungloved hand was hanging down as he sat on the box, and I noticed that he kept snapping his fingers as he sat.

"That's a very highly nervous man," I said to myself, "and even that little incident has upset him."

Brooks' nervousness passed out of my mind altogether when we reached Euston, and I sought in the bustle for my two cousins. I found them at last standing in front of the reserved coupe which I had taken care to have secured for us by my man.

When they saw me, a look of surprise and amusement came over their faces, and they both laughed heartily.

"What on earth have you been doing, Will?" Ethel cried. "Have you been to a suffragists' meeting on the way?"

Ethel affected to laugh at the suffragists, but in her heart I believe she would have liked to join them, and perhaps would have done so but for her brother.

"No," I answered; "what's the matter with me?"

"Look at your coat," replied St. Nivel, pointing to the breast of that garment.

I did look, and found that both my travelling coat and the coat underneath it had been cut completely through the left breast, where my pocket was, with a knife whose edge must have been as keen as that of a razor.

At the first shock I cried, half aloud—

"Good God! The packets have been stolen."

Then I recollected my forethought in placing them in my trousers pockets, and I dived my hands into them instinctively. Yes, thank God, they were all right; my two hands closed on their crisp sealed surfaces.

But how had it occurred?

I thought of the man tearing along with the evening papers, the upsetting of Brooks, and the fussy lady and gentleman who had insisted on brushing me down. I saw it all now—a carefully prepared plan!

Then I roared with laughter, much to the astonishment of Ethel and St. Nivel.

"They've had all their trouble for nothing," I gasped, simply stamping with delight; "the silly fools have got nothing!" But I was wrong; they had got my brand new cigar case given me by Ethel with my initials on it and full of St. Nivel's best Havannahs, placed there by her own fair hands for the railway journey.



CHAPTER XI

THE OCEANA

Very thankful were my two cousins and I when we got clear of the fogs of the Mersey and were fairly out at sea. Not that we were bad sailors. We did not proclaim that we were, at any rate, though I will admit that for the first two days I found my comfortable brass bedstead a resting-place much more to my liking than a seat at the dinner-table, although I duly turned up there for the sake of appearances. During this period of seclusion I thought deeply of the latest attempt of my enemies to secure the casket, and it caused me great uneasiness. I could not imagine how they knew that I should go to my lawyers for it.

Ethel made a brave show, but it was quite the third day out from Liverpool before I saw her smile as I wished to see her smile—without a mental reservation, in fact.

St. Nivel was really the only perfectly unconcerned member of our party, and it was through his persevering attendances on the promenade deck, that I became acquainted with a young lady who will figure largely in these pages, although she in reality was by no means of commanding stature, but one of those charming petite persons whose mission in life appears to be to exemplify what extraordinarily choice pieces of human goods can be made up in small parcels.

It was on the fourth day out that I became acquainted with Dolores d'Alta. While I had been lying disconsolately on my cot, St. Nivel had been improving the shining hour by looking after Miss Dolores, who had taken up her position, during the first few days of her trial, in a sheltered position on the promenade deck, in preference to her "stuffy cabin," as she called her state room.

It had been the pleasure, and had become the duty—a self-imposed one—of St. Nivel to see that she was properly wrapped up.

She did not object to smoke either, having, as she stated, been brought up in an atmosphere of smoke at home. Therefore Jack smoked his cigar.

Had I not known that St. Nivel's inclinations were apparently fixed in the direction of bachelorhood, I should have thought he had fallen in love; but I discovered later that he had, to use an expression of his own, "simply taken on another pal." He found her a congenial person in whose society to smoke cigars. But if he had fallen in love, certainly he would have had a most excellent excuse for doing so.

A daintier little specimen of Southern beauty it would have been difficult to imagine than this little Aquazilian aristocrat. To describe her in a few words, she was a beautiful woman in miniature; she was the most perfectly symmetrical little piece of womanhood that I had ever set eyes upon.

A perfectly clear, creamy complexion, yet not without colour of a rose tint; dimples in the cheeks, which were ravishing when she smiled,—and she was very fond of smiling, ay, and laughing too, and showing the most perfect set of white teeth,—black hair, and very dark blue eyes; and there you have her. United to this beauty of person was a most fascinating natural manner; not the manner of a flirt, but that of a light-hearted, pure-minded girl, as gay as a lark released from captivity, and not unlike it in its new freedom, for she had not escaped from a first-rate finishing school in Paris more than six months.

She had spent the intervening period under the care of a sister of her father who had married an Englishman and who lived in good society.

She had had a season in London and had spent the autumn in a round of country visits which accounted for her wonderful savoir faire; she was only eighteen. Now she was going home to her dear father, a widower, under the care of her aunt. Hearing her always referred to in conversation as "Dolores," her surname was a revelation when I heard it properly pronounced. St. Nivel's idea of foreign names was exceedingly hazy and misleading. As soon as she told me she was going home to Aquazilia, I became very alert and began to ask her questions.

"Yes," she replied to my query concerning her parent's name, "my father is the Senor Don Juan d'Alta; in the old time of our monarchy he was for many years the Prime Minister. He is a very old man is my father," she further explained; "he is nearly seventy!"

Looking at her I could understand the old man simply making an idol of this his only child. It appeared to me very marvellous that I should have met her.

Some of the other passengers told me that he was a member of one of the oldest and most aristocratic families in the country.

It was very lovely as we steamed farther and farther away from our own cold fogs and got into the warmth of the south; very fascinating to walk on deck with Dolores and talk, under the brilliant stars, of Aquazilia and the extraordinary chance which had made us meet on board both with the same destination in view—the house of her father.

"I don't think, though, it is so strange," she confided to me one lovely moonlight night when we were walking the promenade deck side by side; "it is not an unreasonable thing that we should have taken the same boat, considering that they only run once a fortnight."

"It is certainly not unreasonable," I answered, with a look into her eyes. "It is the most reasonable chance that I have ever come across in the whole of my life!"

"Why?" she answered, with a look of mischief in her dark blue eyes.

"Because," I answered fervently, with a little tremor in my voice, "it has given me the chance of spending three weeks near you!

"Let us go and look at the flying fish," she answered hastily, to change the conversation. "I do so love to see them."

Yes, I was daily becoming more and more attached to her; for the first time in my long career of flirtation I was beginning to find out what love really meant.

I was falling in love with a little divinity twelve years my junior, and from the depths of my knowledge I expected she would very justly make a fool of me—not intentionally, perhaps, but in effect the same—and laugh at me for my pains.

It seemed very bitter to think of as I saw her walking—and laughing and talking too—with St. Nivel who was six years my junior. It seemed to me, in my growing jealousy, an ideal match for her.

I forgot that young ladies never fall in love with the persons they are expected to, but invariably go off on an unknown tangent of their own, in obedience to the same law of Nature, perhaps, which causes an unusually tall girl to lose her heart to a very diminutive—though generally very consequential—little man.

In the contemplation of the varied charms of Dolores d'Alta, I almost forgot my precious casket, confided in fear and trembling to the care of the captain, and locked up by him in the ship's strong room in my presence and in the presence of St. Nivel.

In due course we came to Coruna, or Corunna as we more commonly call it, and there I had the delight of strolling about the old fortifications all alone with Dolores and showing her the tomb of Sir John Moore, while St. Nivel obligingly took charge of her aunt, and solicitously kept her out of earshot. The old lady had lived long enough in England to appreciate the attentions of a lord, and he a rich one, without designs on her niece's fortune.

Yes, that fortune was my stumbling-block; I learned of it from old Sir Rupert Frampton, our minister to Aquazilia, who was travelling back to his post on the Oceana.

"I really don't suppose," he said, one evening in the smoking-room, nodding his head sententiously, "that old Don Juan d'Alta knows what he is worth; neither do I suppose that he cares much, for he is a man of the simplest tastes, living on the plainest food, and having but one hobby and object, in fact, in life."

"His daughter?" I suggested at once, Dolores, of course, being the uppermost thought in my mind.

"No," replied the old gentleman crisply, with the smartness of the diplomat; "reptiles!"

"Reptiles!" I exclaimed in disgust; "what reptiles?"

"Principally snakes," replied the old man, shifting his cigar in his mouth; "he has a regular Zoological Gardens full of them—all kinds, from boa-constrictors to adders. He makes pets of them."

"Not about the house?" I suggested.

"No, not exactly," Sir Rupert replied, "unless they stray in by themselves. He's very eccentric and I don't think has been quite himself since the queen abdicated. They say he was in love with her, notwithstanding the fact that she was a confirmed old maid."

"Indeed," I replied, curious to keep the old man talking, for I was desirous of hearing as much as I possibly could about Aquazilia and its capital, Valoro, "it sounds quite romantic."

"Well, it was romantic in a way," he proceeded, glad to have a listener, as old men are; "there's always a certain amount of romance about the court of a reigning queen. Of course you know that the Salic law did not prevail in the kingdom of Aquazilia when it was a kingdom. Yes, it was a splendid court was that of Valoro when Her Majesty Inez the Second reigned over it. I just remember it thirty-five years ago when I went out to it as a young attache on one of my first appointments and took such a fancy to the lovely country."

"Then it is lovely," I ventured; "the reports of it are not exaggerations?"

Old Sir Rupert replied almost with emotion—

"It is superb. It is the loveliest country in the world!"

"In those days I am speaking of," he proceeded, "Valoro was a place worth living in. In many respects it outshone some of the courts of Europe, with which, by the bye, it was in close contact. Queen Inez, as you no doubt know, was a Princess of Istria; the royal line of Aquazilia was simply a collateral branch of the great Imperial House of Dolphberg. And there were those that said that Queen Inez despite all her resistance of the many endeavours to induce her to enter the married state—and her offers had been abundant—was not only a queen and a rich one, but she was also a very beautiful woman."

"Your account of Queen Inez, Sir Rupert, is absolutely fascinating," I said. "I am almost inclined to fall in love with her. Where is she now?"

The old man paused and a sad look came over his face.

"She is dead, poor woman," he answered sadly; "they say she died of a broken heart."

"At losing the throne?" I queried.

"I don't know, I'm sure," he said slowly, throwing away the end of his cigar. "Some say she was glad to get rid of the responsibilities of it, and quite content to retire to a castle she had in Switzerland not far from the Lake of Lucerne. She was a woman of very simple tastes."

"It seems a pity she did not marry," I suggested, "as far as one can judge."

"Well, it is highly probable," he answered, "that she would not have lost her throne if she had had a husband to stand up for her. She was no match for Razzaro."

"Who was Razzaro?" I asked.

"Well, he was the sort of adventurer," the old diplomat answered, "that South America seems especially to breed. He was a man of great talents and abandoned to unscrupulousness. I believe he would have sold his own mother, if he could have got a good bid, and would have haggled with the purchaser whether the price was to include the clothes she stood in."

"A thoroughly honourable, straightforward gentleman," I suggested ironically. "I can imagine a lady such as you describe Queen Inez to have been being peculiarly unfitted to deal with such a man!"

"Yes," agreed Sir Rupert; "and her Prime Minister, or Chancellor as they called him, Don Juan d'Alta, was not much better. He had the misfortune to possess the nature of a modern Bayard, and believed in everybody, until he found out too late that he had been deceived. That is how Queen Inez lost her throne. Razzaro was slowly but surely sapping the Royal power for years, right under d'Alta's nose, and he never really found it out until the whole country burst into revolution."

"What happened then?" I asked.

"Nothing happened," replied Sir Rupert. "When the Queen discovered that the voice of the people was in favour of a Republic she simply abdicated. She would not allow a drop of blood to be shed in her behalf. An Istrian warship which had been waiting for her at the coast took her to Europe with her devoted lady-in-waiting, the Baroness d'Altenberg."

"D'Altenberg," I muttered; "where have heard that name?"

"It was a bloodless revolution."

"And Razzaro triumphed?" I added aloud.

"Yes; Razzaro triumphed," he replied; "and, as a matter of fact, thoroughly got hold of the popular favour. His son is President of the Republic at the present moment. Old Razzaro made a sort of family living of the Presidency."

"And Don Juan d'Alta retired into private life?" I ventured.

"Into private life and the society of his reptiles," added the old diplomatist, rising. "I think the latter have consoled him for many disappointments."

"Whom did he marry?" I asked.

"A very beautiful French lady," he replied, "whose husband, a French nobleman, had come to Aquazilia to try and make his fortune, and had died in the effort."

"Poor man!" I commented. "And Don Juan married his widow?"

"Exactly; and this pretty little lady, Senorita Dolores, who is returning to Valoro with us, is the result of the union. They say she is the very image of her mother, who died when she was five."

"Then the mother must have been very beautiful," was my comment.

The old minister stopped and looked at me for some moments without saying anything. Then, with a peculiar smile about the corners of his good-natured mouth, shook his head and went slowly out of the smoking-room.



CHAPTER XII

HELD UP

Rio with its heat, its tramways, and its great sea wall; its Botanical Gardens in which once more I had the delight of losing myself with Dolores, to the evident anxiety of her aunt and duenna, Mrs. Darbyshire; it seemed so strange to find such a foreign little person with such a distinctly English name. She, however, refused to be beguiled away by St. Nivel to look at the giraffes. I think she began to smell more than a rat when we reached the monkey house, and to doubt whether his attentions to her were as disinterested as they appeared, especially when she heard that I was his cousin.

To marry his poor relation—me—to a rich heiress—her niece Dolores—no doubt struck her as an end worth taking some trouble about. Probably she would have done the same herself.

Therefore as we approached our port of debarkation, after leaving Rio, I began to find my little interviews with Dolores becoming restricted more often by the presence of her aunt. Still the recollection of our rambles at Rio, and the rides alone on the tops of the electric trams—which are quite orthodox—remained with us; and if Mrs. Darbyshire became more severe, were there not those little stolen interviews in the dark part of the promenade deck, where the electric light did not reach, worth a lifetime; and did I not day by day have that growing feeling round my heart, which thrilled me through and through and told me that my little darling was beginning to care for me?

Did she not absolutely shed tears the night we stole away from the concert and sat hand in hand under one of the boats, when I whispered just one little sentence; that I loved her? Ah me! shall I ever forget those beautiful Southern nights, with the stars shining like great diamonds above us—nights made for love?

My cousin Ethel at first did not by any means appreciate the turn my affections had recently taken; she made several pointed and rather sarcastic remarks about it, having in her mind, I presume, the recollection of our little meetings in the long corridors of dear old Bannington.

"You seem very much taken up with that Miss d'Alta," she remarked one day. "I thought you did not like foreign girls. I don't suppose she can ride or shoot a bit."

"I don't want her to, Ethel," I replied tersely; "there are no facilities for either amusement on board ship."

She smiled, then bit her lips to check it; she wanted to be dignified and couldn't. She descended to mere abuse.

"You were always a fool about girls, Bill," she continued. "Any girl could twist you round her finger. Do you remember Mary Greenway?"

Now the recollection of that young lady was peculiarly galling to me at the moment. After expressing deep love for me—I was eighteen—for nearly six months, she eloped with one of her father's grooms!

"Please don't mention that young lady," I implored; "it makes me feel ill. I believe at the present moment she teaches young ladies in her husband's riding-school."

Ethel laughed heartily.

"She might do worse," she replied. "I think she is rather a plucky girl."

"What, to run away with a groom?" I suggested.

"No," she snapped; "to work for her living."

We came to our port of debarkation, Monte Video, at last. It seemed like the end of a holiday to go ashore, and take to the dusty train, luxurious though it was, but now I had the precious casket in my care, and the anxiety was almost too much for me.

"Look here," said St. Nivel, when we had been in the train about an hour, "you are looking pretty sick over that precious packet, why don't you let me take care of it for you?"

I tapped nervously at the trousers pocket in which I was carrying it.

"I hardly like to let it go out of my own charge," I answered anxiously; "though I know, of course, that it would be safe with you."

We were, at the time of this conversation, running through a most beautiful valley, glorious with tropical vegetation. The train was gradually rising on an easy gradient to the higher lands, where we hoped to get fresher air, for the heat in the valley was most oppressive after three weeks passed practically in the open on the deck of the Oceana.

Without in any way forcing myself on Mrs. Darbyshire's society, I contrived to see a good deal of Dolores on this little railway journey, which was only to occupy a day and a half.

Once on the beautiful tableland with its gorgeous views of hill and dale, ocean and distant mountain, the train sped onwards at a rate almost alarming to us used to the slower methods of Europe.

It was well on in the evening; we had dined excellently in the well-provided restaurant car, and were lounging about in the moonlight thinking of turning in—for there were several sleeping-cars attached to the train—when the incident occurred which very nearly rendered my journey fruitless. It was just as we had entered Aquazilian territory, and passed the customs. We were, as I have said, lounging about smoking, when the train which was running through a deep cutting suddenly slowed down, and presently the breaks [Transcriber's note: brakes?] were put on so hard that we who were standing near were nearly thrown off our feet.

"Whatever is the matter?" cried Ethel, who was sitting in a compartment of the smoking-car with us. "I hope there is no accident."

St. Nivel, who was sitting opposite to me, suddenly leaned forward and whispered—

"If you have that packet of yours handy, give it to me. I think there will be trouble."

He had travelled in America before, and I placed a good deal of reliance on his experience.

From the front of the train there arose a great hubbub, a chorus of exclamations in Spanish.

"I thought so," remarked St. Nivel; "you'd better look sharp, Bill, if you want to make that packet safe."

As he spoke, he held out towards me an open cigar-box which he had taken out of the rack.

Then I saw what he was aiming at; he wished me for some reason to hide my packet among the cigars in the box.

I did not hesitate a moment, but put my hand in my trousers pocket, and pulling out the precious packet, placed it among the cigars.

He immediately covered it with more cigars, and then put the box back in the rack.

There was a sudden stillness in the front of the train, and I saw through the windows of the smoking-car quite a cloud of horsemen ride up the permanent way and dismount; apparently the forepart of the train had been already occupied, for we heard the sound of a by no means unpleasant voice making in English the following request:—

"Hands up, gentlemen."

I was unused to this sort of thing, but St. Nivel apparently knew all about it, for he sat back in his seat with a curse between his teeth.

"What does it mean?" asked Ethel and I, almost in a breath.

"It means," answered St. Nivel, "that we are going to be robbed."

"Oh, my God!" cried poor Ethel, "I hope they won't murder us!"

By the white look on St. Nivel's face, as he sat with his teeth set, I saw that there was something in his mind which he feared for his sister more than death.

I knew afterwards what some of these South American half-bred freebooters were like.

The men who had ridden up by the side of the train were a queer-looking lot.

For the most part they wore very loose garments and high-crowned hats, somewhat of the kind worn by Guy Fawkes. Slung at the saddle of each man was a coil of rope—a lasso. Nearly every one of them carried a rifle.

"I shall get my revolver," I exclaimed. "I've left it in my dressing-bag."

"Do nothing of the sort," cried St. Nivel, in alarm; "they would shoot you instantly."

"We're being 'held up' then?" I queried.

"Yes; that's it," he answered shortly.

At once all thought of my packet went out of my mind; I thought only of Dolores. I rose from my seat and, despite St. Nivel's remonstrance, passed rapidly to the rear of the brilliantly lighted train. I had met her as she came out of the dining-car, and she had told me she intended sitting with her aunt until it was time to retire for the night at ten o'clock. She intended to slip out, dear girl, for a few minutes before she went to bed to say good-night to me.

Now I found both her and her aunt in a great state of alarm.

"It's nothing serious, is it, Mr. Anstruther?" asked the elder lady, seizing my arm. "Some one here says that we are attacked by robbers."

Before I could answer, a man wearing a cowboy's high-crowned hat and a mask across the upper part of his face, appeared at the door of the car and gave the command—

"Hands up!"

He carried a revolver pointed upwards over his shoulder in such a position that he could have brought it down at once. At first I refused to elevate my hands as a fat Brazilian was doing near me, and this evoked another word of command—

"Hands up! Sharp!"

"Do put your hands up, dear," came the soft trembling voice of Dolores; "do, to please me."

My two hands shot up most willingly, immediately.

"Ladies," the man proceeded, in far from a disagreeable voice, "you have no need to fear. Our chief has fined each first-class passenger a hundred dollars; second-class passengers fifty dollars. If those amounts are placed on the seats, our collector will be round in a minute or two to take them up, then you will be at liberty to proceed."

At that moment another man, similarly attired, armed, and masked, joined the other at the door.

"He's in here," he announced. "That's him, no doubt."

He added a sentence in Spanish which I could not understand, then turned to me.

"Mr. William Anstruther?" he asked.

Involuntarily I answered him—

"Yes; my name is Anstruther."

"Follow me," he said sharply; "you're wanted."

I gave one look at Dolores, and she answered my look.

"You had better go with them, William," she said, calling me by my name for the first time. "I will come too."

She looked deadly white, and I feared every moment would faint.

The man who had entered first spoke again, addressing Dolores.

"You need not be afraid," he said. "We shall not harm Mr. Anstruther; and you had better remain where you are, because we shall probably have to strip him."

The two men laughed heartily at their coarse joke, and I felt as if I could have killed them both.

Then the thought came unpleasantly home to me.

"Why would they want to strip me?"

I followed the first man down the corridor, and looking round saw the other standing at the door of the compartment in which I had left the ladies. He had a revolver in his hand, and was watching me intently. Had I made the slightest effort to escape, I have little doubt he would have shot me at once. My conductor took me back into the smoking-car, and then politely asked Lady Ethel, who was still there, to retire.

When she had gone, with wide-open eyes full of fear, fixed on me to the last glance, the masked man, who had me in charge, turned to me and made the following request:—

"Mr. Anstruther," he said, speaking in very good English, although one could tell it was not his native tongue, "we have reason to believe that you have concealed either on your person, or in your luggage, a certain packet which you are carrying to Valoro. Our chief requires that you shall give that packet up to him. That done, and your fine of a hundred dollars paid, you will be permitted to go on your way."

"And if I refuse to comply with your request?" I asked.

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"The chief will be here directly," he answered, with a peculiar smile; "he will tell you himself."

I threw myself in a corner of the carriage, and with the bitterest thoughts at my heart, tried to think of some means of escape, while I awaited the coming of the principal brigand. St. Nivel sat opposite to me, and I saw by his set jaw and knitted brows that he considered the situation very serious. We had not long to wait for the chief. A heavy footstep came along the corridor and presently an immense bulk entered the doorway with a great masked head above it.

The man was a half-breed and a giant, possessing immense strength; the reason of his chieftainship was very evident.

"Which is Anstruther?" he asked abruptly, as he came in, with a strong foreign accent.

His subordinate pointed to me.

"Carajo! Mr. Anstruther," the giant began, "I hope you are not going to give us any trouble. You don't look very amiable!"

I simply looked at him and did not answer.

"My lieutenant here," the chief proceeded, "has no doubt acquainted you with my wishes. We want that little packet of yours, which you are carrying to Valoro."

"What little packet?" I asked superciliously.

"The little packet which you fetched from your lawyer's office just before you left London," he replied, with a smile; adding at my look of astonishment, "you see we know your movements pretty well."

I gave an impatient toss of my head, and felt inclined to drive my fist into the man's great fat face, the only part of which I could see was a great thick-lipped mouth with fine white teeth grinning through a black beard.

"Supposing," I said, "that I refuse to comply with your demand?"

"Then," he said abruptly, "we shall look for it." "Come now, Mr. Anstruther," he added, "we have very little time to lose; give me that packet."

"I haven't got it," I answered truthfully, for it was in St. Nivel's cigar-box.

The big man turned to his lieutenant.

"Send in a couple of the others; strip and search him," he said sharply.

In obedience to a call from the other, two more of the gang, big strong fellows, came in, and I prepared for a strong resistance.

Before, however, the men touched me, Sir Rupert Frampton's face appeared in the doorway; he had evidently just got out of bed, and wore a dressing-gown.

"It is no use whatever making any resistance to these men, Mr. Anstruther," he said, speaking in French; "you will probably lose your life if you do. Submit to what they demand, and we will make a claim against the Government at Valoro for whatever you lose. During the whole of my long connection with Aquazilia," he added, "I have only known such a robbery as this occur twice, and knowing the present peaceful and law-abiding state of the country, I cannot understand it."

"Very well then, Sir Rupert," I said, after a pause, "I will submit to these men, but I call upon you to witness my protest at the outrage!"

He nodded his head at my words, and in obedience to a further request from the giant, I proceeded to undress.

When this was done, they were not satisfied to search my clothes only, but took them away with them for further examination.

After returning me my light silk under-vest and drawers, they brought me a loose cowboy's dress, such as they wore themselves, and intimated that I must put it on.

It was no use demurring, so with a plaintive look at Sir Rupert, who, hardly able to repress his laughter, was still standing by, I did as I was bid.

"Now," proceeded the chief, "we have not found what we want about your person, Mr. Anstruther; we must look for it among your luggage."

He dangled my bunch of keys in his hand as he spoke. "Follow me, please."

The others closed round me and we went together to the luggage-car; here my luggage, which was fully marked with my name, was already set aside. They proceeded at once to thoroughly search each trunk, but replacing every article as they did so; loot was evidently not their object.

They came at last to the end of it; and the chief turned to me savagely.

"Carajo! Mr. Anstruther," he said, "you are playing with us. Do you refuse to tell us where this packet is?"

"Supposing I don't know?" I replied prevaricatingly, "supposing it is out of my power to tell you?"

"Then," he answered, with a savage oath, "we shall take you with us, and perhaps another besides, and hold you both as hostages until the packet is given up to us by somebody."

After a pause I shrugged my shoulders.

"You must do as you like," I said.

"Carlo," cried the chief at once, "see the fines are collected, and we will be off and take him with us."

"Who shall the other hostage be?" asked the lieutenant.

The big man stooped down and whispered in his ear.

The other man nodded and smiled in response to the other's laugh, but it appeared to me that he by no means relished the information conveyed to him in the whisper.

"Now, Mr. Anstruther," remarked the big half-breed, "we must trouble you to come with us, and don't take longer than you can help to say good-bye to the ladies."

This was intended by way of a joke; one which I did not appreciate.

"As soon as my cashier has been round collecting the dues," proceeded the big man, "we must be off. Don't you think you will change your mind, Mr. Anstruther, and give me that packet? If I had my way I would search the whole train for it, but we haven't got time, so we must take you instead."

St. Nivel looked up from his corner where he had sat, his hat drawn over his eyes.

"Have a cigar, Senor Capitano," he remarked to the chief, "while your man collects the cash. I've paid already."

He handed the man the box of cigars in which the packet was hidden. I thought it an act of madness.

"Thank you, Senor," replied the man, taking two; "a fine brand of cigars."

"Yes," replied my cousin, "they are very decent."

The Capitano took the box in his hands and smelt them.

"Yes, very nice," he remarked. "As good as anything you will get in Aquazilia."

Then St. Nivel did something which appeared to me to be an additional sign that he had taken leave of his senses.

"Won't you take the box, Capitano?" he asked.

The man smiled and shook his great head.

"Thank you," he said, "they are too mild for me."

St. Nivel shut the box up with what I thought was impatience, and threw it in the rack.

The thieves' cashier made his appearance with a bag full of dollars; then they all made a move for the door, taking me with them.

As we reached the platform of the smoking-car, and I was perforce about to jump down on to the permanent way, I saw the face of my servant Brooks looking up at me from the line.

"Let me give you a hand, sir," he said, with an expressive look in his eyes; "the ground's a bit rough here."

As he assisted me down in the darkness I felt him slip something under the loose cowboy's frock I wore and nudge me to take it; as I put my hand down, to my joy I felt it was my Colt's revolver!

I hastily thrust it into the belt under my smock-frock, where it was quite hidden.

Then the horses were brought round and we prepared to mount; but before we departed there was still a little ceremony to be gone through.

There were some left with drawn revolvers at the end of each carriage, almost to the last moment, but as the bulk of the band left the train they brought with them a half-breed dressed in the ordinary frock-coat and tall hat of civilisation, in a state of abject terror.

"Who is this man?" I asked the lieutenant, who happened to be near me.

He laughed as he twisted up a cigarette and answered me.

"He used to belong to our little society once," he said; "but he ran away and gave evidence against another member, who was shot."

"What are you going to do with him?" I asked.

He made a motion with his hand in his loose neckerchief of a man being hanged.

"No, surely not!" I cried, in horror.

"You'll see," he replied, as he began to smoke.

They dragged forward the shivering wretch, who had a prosperous look about him; and as they pulled him out of the train his tall hat fell off and rattled on the iron rails. No one stopped to pick it up; it was not worth while.

The man immediately following him carried his lasso in his hand. They lost very little time; there was a tree with a convenient branch, just near the line, and in a trice they threw the rope over this and knotted the end into a noose.

Then there was a call for a priest, and there happening to be a Padre in the train, the wretched man was accorded five minutes with him as he stood.

Within three minutes more the body of the half-breed was swinging and struggling in the air; but the struggles were not for long.

The desperadoes all around me whipped out their revolvers and commenced a rattling fusillade, the mark being the body of the man swinging on the tree.

* * * * *

My blood ran cold as I listened to the pinging of the bullets and the resounding shrieks of the ladies in the train.

Not till then did the last of the men leave the train, and one of them I saw, to my astonishment, bore in his arms apparently a woman in a cloak.

In a brilliant gleam of electric light, shot from the train in the darkness, I thought I saw the face of my Dolores, with a white gag across the mouth, but the idea seemed so preposterous that I did not give it another thought, thinking it to be some phantom of an overwrought brain, and the woman some light-o'-love of the desperado.

The man went straight to a horse, placed the burden he was carrying across the saddle-bow, sprang on to the horse, and with a number of others round him, including the chief, rode away.

They brought a horse for me and I mounted too, and rode along very unwillingly towards the end of the train. As we passed the engine, I saw that the fire-box had been raked out and water poured on it. There was a dense steam arising from it. I conjectured, and conjectured correctly, that they had done this to prevent the train steaming away and giving the alarm, for there was a considerable town not five miles off, the inhabitants of which were no doubt anxiously expecting the express.

When we arrived at the other side of the train, and the leading files of the robbers were passing off the railway line, the identity of the figure carried away across the saddle was put beyond all doubt, and the revelation nearly sent me mad.

Mrs. Darbyshire came shrieking out into the forepart of the car in which I had left her with Dolores.

"They have taken her," she shrieked, "they have taken her away from me as a hostage. It cannot be. Bring her back, bring her back, I implore you!" she cried in Spanish to the men who were passing the train, and who in return only laughed and jeered her.

"Mr. Anstruther," she cried, "save her!"

I made her no answer, for I knew it was useless, but I gripped the revolver I carried beneath my loose smock.

A great calmness came upon me then, though the blood surged through my head. Life was as nothing to me, compared with saving her; without her it would be worthless. I determined to use every art I was capable of, every ingenuity to outwit these ruffians and murderers, for her sake.

I began to laugh and talk with the men around me, at the same time noting every feature of the country as we left the railway behind and took a rough road.

As we emerged upon this, the moon rose and I could see that the road wound away in front of us, down into a valley where there was a thick wood and up the other side to great hills which were probably our destination. About two hundred yards in front of us rode the party who had carried off Dolores. To my great joy my party commenced to trot, and within ten minutes had caught up the party in front.

There was a good deal of talking in Spanish, which I did not understand. My eyes were fixed on the figure wrapped in the black cloak and lying across the saddle-bow of one of the ruffians.

As far as I could see, she was perfectly inanimate, but one thing I noticed, and that was the man who held her, a great, swarthy, black-bearded wretch, masked like the others, rode some six paces in rear of the rest.

This was sufficient for me; my plan was formed at once.

As we rode forward again, I felt that I had a good horse under me, and this was a satisfaction for the task I had in view. As we reached the wood at the foot of the hill, there were, I found to my great satisfaction, but two of the gang riding behind me and one by my side; the rest were in front. I had made myself agreeable, and rode so easily with them that the men around me had taken no special precautions to secure me; believing me to be unarmed, they evidently thought that I was powerless under the muzzles of their numerous revolvers.

They were mistaken.

As we plunged into the blackness of the road through the wood, I waited until we were well into it, then drew my revolver and shot the man riding on my right.

In the very act of firing, I dug the heels of my boots into my horse and caused him to swerve round.

Before they could draw, I shot both the men behind me, and as I tore past them, grasped the mask from the face of one as he fell. The whole thing was done in under ten seconds. I flew off like an arrow back towards the party we had just left, followed by a spattering fire from the men. I had left when they fully realised what had happened in the darkness.

I hastily fixed the black crape mask across my face as I cleared the wood, and made full gallop for Dolores.

As I came in sight of the party, they were evidently in alarm at the shooting, but I waved my arm to them assuringly and slowed down to a canter as I came near. They plainly regarded me from my mask as one of the gang.

I noticed to my satisfaction as I approached that the man in charge of Dolores was still some distance in the rear.

The road being narrow, and the men riding two abreast in it, I left the track and rode out into the rough ground as if I wished to reach the chief, crying out "Capitano!" as I passed the leading men, that being about all the Spanish I knew.

The great burly chief rode out as I approached, with a querulous look on his face as I saw it in the moonlight, as if he were annoyed, but the expression changed immediately, for I shot him through the body from my revolver as I held it concealed beneath the smock I wore; then I dashed for Dolores. I had still two chambers undischarged, and one of these I intended for the man bearing Dolores, but he was too quick for me; he turned his horse and bolted back along the road we had come and I after him. He was apparently in a panic. I roared out to him with all my might that if he would give up the lady I would spare his life, or otherwise he would be a dead man.

This hint seemed sufficient for him, for he slid off his horse and rolled away somewhere into the rough ground at the side of the road, leaving Dolores on the horse.

Then I saw that she had been secured to the high pommel of the Spanish saddle by a turn or two of a lasso.

We had gone fully three hundred yards more before I caught the horse which galloped away at full speed. Perhaps it was as well things happened thus, as the robbers were thundering behind, and had I taken the two burdens on one horse, we should I think, without doubt, have been recaptured. As it was, I lashed both horses to their fullest speed when I saw Dolores was secure, though evidently in great discomfort, yet it was a matter of life or death or worse.

Presently we came in view of the train getting up steam, though it was some distance off, and then a sight burst upon my view in addition which filled me with both joy and astonishment. About ten bicycles ridden by men were coming along the road, the slender spokes of their wheels glinting in the moonlight. They no sooner saw us than they raised a great shout, and waved their arms; it was then to my great thankfulness I saw the leading cyclist was my cousin, St. Nivel. I felt as if a ton weight of care had been lifted off my shoulders.

They made way for us as we came, and St. Nivel shouted to me as we passed through—

"Make straight for the train!"

I did as he bid me, and within five minutes had the pleasure of tearing the handkerchief with which she was gagged from my darling's mouth; and before all the assembled passengers kissing her upon the lips as I gave her insensible into the arms of her aunt.

I think I had earned those kisses!



CHAPTER XIII

DON JUAN D'ALTA

No sooner had we passed through the cyclists than they formed across the road and, dismounting, took up positions behind any cover which they discovered in the rough ground.

To my astonishment they unstrapped rifles from their machines, and as soon as the robbers appeared in pursuit greeted them with a rapid fire evidently from magazines. I saw several saddles emptied as they turned and rode off.

A few minutes after St. Nivel and his friends rejoined us.

"That was a lucky thought of mine," he said, laughing, when he had gripped my hand and congratulated me on our escape.

I remembered seeing the bicycles being put into the train at Monte Video, and the magazine rifles of course were in the guard's van, and ought to have been used when the robbers attacked us, but they came too suddenly and there was no time to get them.

From that time forward things went easily enough; steam was soon up, and we were away again to Valoro within half an hour. At the next station a special restaurant car was attached; we were treated like heroes, sitting amid the popping of champagne corks relating our adventures, and this went on long after the morning had broken.

But I, tired out, soon sought my bed in the sleeping-car, but not before I had been assured at the door of the ladies' car, by Mrs. Darbyshire, now all tears and smiles, that Dolores had regained consciousness, and was unhurt, save for bruises and, of course, a severe shock.

I slept until within an hour of our running into Valoro station late in the afternoon, and just had time to have a delicious bath and emerge fresh and hungry into the restaurant car in which St. Nivel, Lady Ethel, and Dolores looking very pale and ill, were just finishing lunch. My darling sat beside me while I lunched and held my hand—when it was disengaged—unheeded by Mrs. Darbyshire. This lady, I think, considered that the case had got beyond her and had better be relegated to a higher court—Don Juan d'Alta—for judgment.

Dolores even lighted my cigarette for me, but soon after her aunt took her away to prepare to leave the train.

"What on earth made you hand that poor devil of a brigand chief that box of cigars, Jack?" I asked St. Nivel, when we were alone with Ethel, and he had restored my precious casket to me; "he might have taken it and got the whole shoot."

"At that moment," replied St. Nivel, glancing through the rings of his cigar smoke quite affectionately at me, "I wished he would take it. Things looked very ugly for you, and we were powerless to help you. I thought if he took the cigar case the casket would at least be with you and you would know it and could use your own discretion about giving them the tip if your life were threatened as I imagined it would be."

"Very clever of you, Jack," I answered, "and I'm very much obliged to you for thinking of it, but I am glad that the poor devil didn't take it after all. I believe it to be my duty to take it to Don Juan d'Alta, even at the risk of my life."

St. Nivel sat thinking a moment or two; then he spoke.

"Why do you use the term 'poor devil'?" he asked, "when you speak of the robber chief?"

I told him why. I told him how I had shot him.

"Well, really, Bill," he said very seriously, "I wish the thing had gone. It has already cost several lives, and seems to carry ill-luck with it. Who knows how many more lives may be sacrificed? Of course, there cannot be a doubt but that the train was held up solely to obtain it; the taking of the hundred dollars a head was simply a ruse to cover the other. Old Frampton says such a raid on a train is a thing unheard of now in Aquazilia."

"Yes," I answered, "but it came to a good round sum all the same. Well, at any rate," I continued, as the train ran into Valoro station, "we've brought the thing to its destination, and we're all safe and sound, so there's something to be thankful for!"

At Valoro, things were "all right" as my man Brooks put it; news of the attack on the train, in which was the British Minister, had reached the capital, and a troop of cavalry awaited to escort him to his Legation.

"As I understand you have something of importance to deliver in Valoro," said Sir Rupert Frampton to me as we left the train, "I think you had better come in my carriage. I am taking Mrs. Darbyshire and the Senorita with me too. They both want reassuring, and the morale of the escort will do that. I shall take them right home."

"Thank you very much," I answered, "that will suit me down to the ground. My mission is to deliver a packet to Don Juan d'Alta himself."

"Then come along," added Sir Rupert, "for, of course, the ladies are going there too."

In a few minutes we were driving out of the station yard in a fine carriage, surrounded by soldiers.

It was the first time I had ever ridden with an escort, and I liked it.

We left the immense terminus, which would not have disgraced the finest city in Europe, and turned up a great boulevard leading to the higher part of the city where amid trees we could see many fine white houses.

"That is our house!" cried Dolores, as we left the houses behind and came out into the country. "Look, aunt! look, William!"

I did look and saw on the crest of the hill we were approaching, far away to the left, a long range of white buildings, relieved with towers, which looked like a small castle.

It filled me with apprehension, for it was a sign of the great wealth of her father—the wealth which I feared would be a bar to our union.

I think she was surprised at the glum look on my face for the rest of the little journey.

"Are you sorry to go and see my father?" she asked plaintively, with a sweet look in her blue eyes. "I am sure he will be very glad to see you and to thank you for saving me. He is a very kind man is my father," she added solemnly, "very kind to me, and very kind to his reptiles."

Before them all—Mrs. Darbyshire was now quite resigned—I took her hand and pressed it.

"It is a very easy thing to be kind to you, Dolores," I said. "I should find the difficulty in being kind to the reptiles."

"But you will humour my father, won't you?" she asked, and then dropped her voice, "for both our sakes?"

The amount of interest dear old Sir Rupert Frampton took in distant scenery during this drive, and the many objects of interest he pointed out to Mrs. Darbyshire to divert her attention from us, made me his willing slave for life. For, indeed, I was agitated at the prospect of the interview which was to come in a few minutes with old Don Juan d'Alta, not only for our sake, but for the sake of the dear old lady at Bath, who I doubted not was now dead, and the packet she had confided to my care.

It was a comfort to sit with Dolores' little hand in mine. My other clasped the precious packet in my trousers pocket.

At last we drove into a great avenue filled with the most luxuriant tropical vegetation, very carefully tended, for there were men at work everywhere.

The escort wheeled away into line as we swept under a great glass-roofed portiere, and came to a halt at a fine flight of marble steps, where Sir Rupert left us and drove away with the soldiers clattering around him.

Yes, the home of my Dolores was like a modern palace.

Overcome with seeing it again, I think she forgot even me for the moment. She ran gaily up the steps, trilling with laughter.

"Where is father?" she cried.

That gentleman answered her question in person.

At the head of the steps appeared an old man dressed in black with an abundance of perfectly white hair which surrounded a very good-humoured, wrinkled face, almost as brown as a berry. It was the face of an aristocrat, but of an aristocrat who lived in the open air, and a good deal under the burning sun of an Aquazilian summer.

He came forward with a very loving smile on his old face and took his little daughter in his arms.

Their greeting was in Spanish and therefore most of it was lost to me, but I took it to be a very affectionate one. This over, the conversation turned in my direction and broke into English.

"This is the gentleman who saved me from the robbers, father," exclaimed Dolores; "this is Mr. William Anstruther."

The old man turned towards me with extended hands, his face beaming.

"Mr. Anstruther," he said, speaking in very fair English, which I found most of the gentry spoke there, "let me take your hands and thank you from my heart for your heroic conduct to my daughter. The news of the outrage and your gallant escape reached us together by telegraph the first thing this morning. Indeed, I think they had the news at the club last night."

When he had at last let my hand go, I got in a word of my own.

"Naturally," I began, "you will like to spend some time with your daughter, but when you are at liberty I have an important message to deliver to you."

"Indeed!" he said, looking rather surprised. "From whom?"

"From an old lady who formerly lived at Bath, in England," I replied, "but who now, I fear, is dead—murdered!"

"Good heavens!" he cried; "who can it be?"

"It was a lady known by the name of Carlotta Altenberg," I answered.

"Good God!" he cried, throwing up his hands excitedly; "poor old d'Altenberg murdered!"

I was rather disappointed at his tone. It was very certain that the old lady was a person of little importance, or he would never have spoken of her like that.

In a moment or two he turned to me again.

"I have taken the liberty," he said, "of having your luggage and that of your friends with whom you are travelling—and whom Dolores tells me are your cousins—brought up here. I could not think of allowing you to stay anywhere else in Valoro than under my roof, and I am vain enough to think that we can keep you amused during your stay."

I made suitable acknowledgments for his kindness, and was wondering all the while, in my heart, under what lucky star I had been born to be located beneath the very roof with my Dolores, and that, too, at her father's invitation. But he broke in upon my thanks.

"Not another word, Mr. Anstruther," he said; "it is you who confer the benefit upon me.

"Now, you say you have a message from the poor old Baroness d'Altenberg for me. Good! I will show you to my study, and there we will go into the matter at our leisure."

He led me down a long corridor to a beautiful room overlooking the valley, communicating with a long range of what looked like conservatories. Hardly necessary, I thought, in such a climate!

"Now," said my host, placing a box of cigars before me, "amuse yourself with these, and my servant shall bring us some champagne to celebrate your arrival. I will just go and see my sister and little Dolores settled in their apartments, then I will come back to you and we can have our talk. You shall tell me all about the poor Baroness."

The kind old man pressed me down into a comfortable lounge chair, then with a smile departed.

I took a good look round the room, and took stock of its contents. It was furnished very luxuriously in the European fashion and contained some beautiful pictures, but its principal ornaments were cases of stuffed reptiles of every sort, from a tiny lizard to a great boa-constrictor with red jaws agape.