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Roy Glashan's Library
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THE blue waters of the Mediterranean stretched away in a golden mist to the horizon, and Tinker, Sexton Blake's assistant, sitting sideways on a bench close to the surf, looked occasionally out to sea, and then backwards to the small town of Logona, where the setting sun was flinging dark shadows over the pink and green and blue houses.
The scene was peaceful, but in the lad's eyes there was a restless look. He gave a chuckle, however, as a tall, athletic figure came into view descending the white hill, and, jumping up: he strode to meet the man. The latter waved one hand in friendly greeting as they drew near.
"Is it all fixed up, Mr. Blake?" Tinker asked eagerly.
"Yes, my lad. We can leave here to-night. The extradition papers have been completed, and Driscoll will be detained, pending the arrival of an escort from Scotland Yard."
"I suppose he'll get five years?" Tinker remarked.
"Yes, I suppose so. Well, what shall we do to fill in the time till midnight? Somehow Tinker, I don't think that you find much enjoyment in this place."
"No, sir; I'll be glad to get home," Tinker said readily. "Logona is a dull town, and the Spaniards hereabouts, anyhow, are not much to my taste. They're a lazy lot. All they like, it seems to me, is just to loaf the day away in the sunlight. And they're tricky, too. I wouldn't care to have a row with them. If you quarrelled with one, they'd all turn against you."
"Yes, that may be so," Blake assented absently. "I'm not sorry to leave, either. We came a long way on a very simple errand. It's a wonder to me that the absconding bank clerk wasn't tracked out months ago."
"You didn't have much difficulty in nabbing him," Tinker said, with a laugh. "From the time you got that clue in Paris, you kept after him on a straight line. But it doesn't follow because the job was easy to you that—"
"That's enough!" Blake protested. "They've all been complimenting me too much here already. And that reminds me. I must call and bid adieu to Enright before we leave. He's a very nice chap, and he helped me every way he could. A British Consul has a very busy, anxious life, and Enright is quite overworked and worried. Poor old chap! He is longing to get home for a holiday, but he says he can't take leave for some months yet. Do you know, I'm disposed to think he has some secret trouble on his mind. There's a look in his eyes I don't like. Well, here we are at the hotel! We may as well go in and have dinner."
They had sauntered up the hill, and had come to the market square. Along the promenade were kiosks, dancing-rooms, and cafes. Evening was rapidly closing in, and bright coloured lanterns were throwing variegated beams on the pavements. At one end of the square a large church with a high steeple stood out prominently. Gaudy caravans, surrounded by gipsies and costermongers, were pitched in the centre, and Spaniards in long, loose, dark robes were lolling at every corner. Their swarthy faces were half hidden under large sombreros. Each had a knife stuck in his belt. They stared truculently at the two Britishers.
Blake and Tinker entered the hotel, and took seats at a small table.
When dinner was over, Blake lit a cigar and smoked at his ease, sitting out on the verandah, listening to the music and watching the passing throngs. Close on ten o'clock he looked at his watch, and rose.
"You pack our traps," he said. "I'll go over to the British Consulate now, and see Enright. I'll be back in an hour's time, and then we'll settle up here and start for the railway-station."
He stepped down on to the pavement, and strolled off. The British Consulate was about a mile away, and crossing the square, he climbed another hill, and got to the outskirts of the town.
Beyond, a great chain of mountains stretched upwards to the skyline; below, the deep waters of the Mediterranean lay placid as a lake; in the middle distance Logona was scattered along the hills, the streets and houses picked out by lamps and lanterns in the warm, oppressive darkness. The jingling of organs and concertinas came upwards with the wind. Out on the empty road to the Consulate the silence was broken only by the swaying of branches and rustling of leaves.
As he tramped on, he could not see more than a couple of yards ahead. He got to the Consulate, a square built house, standing back twenty yards from the roadway in its own grounds, and opening the gate, he went up the winding avenue. Lights were in the lower windows; the British flag was flapping on the pole above the roof. He knocked at the door and waited.
Quite suddenly it was flung roughly open. Before he could move three or four men dashed out, and colliding with him, he was borne heavily to the ground. He saw that they were Spaniards. Even In the darkness he could perceive the loose robes; but their faces were hidden. One man had fallen, and Blake, enraged at this unexpected and violent assault, struck at him as they both lay on the ground.
The man yelled hoarsely, and his companions on the instant wheeled round and dashed back to the spot as Blake sprang to his feet. He saw arms raised, and he knew that every uplifted hand held a knife. Planting his back to the wall, he hit out, and the villains, having rescued their confederate, dashed away.
The hall door was open still. Thoroughly alarmed, Blake hesitated for a moment whether to pursue the ruffians or enter the house. This was the British Consulate. Spaniards had no business to be there. Why had they entered it? Why had they dashed away so hurriedly? Why was it now so silent? Blake ran into the hall, listened for a moment, and then raised his voice.
"Hallo! Hallo!" he shouted. "Is anyone about?"
There was no answer. He turned into the dining-room; it was empty. He went into the drawing-room; it, too, was silent. He hurried to the study at the back, and found it in darkness. Striking a match, he held it above his head. Then he gave a cry. For Enright, the British Consul, was lying on the floor, his face ghastly, and his arms flung wide apart.
Blake lit the lamp, and knelt down by the prostrate man. After some seconds he rose unsteadily to his feet.
"Murdered!" he gasped.
He looked around the room. It showed no signs of a struggle. He crossed to the fireplace and tugged at the bell-rope. The bell clanged through the house, died away, and again there was complete silence. On a desk in one corner was a half-written letter. Blake picked it up. It was addressed to himself.
"Dear Blake," it ran, "I want particularly to see you this evening on a very confidential matter. For some weeks past I have known that my life has been in danger, but so important is the secret business with which I have been entrusted, that I have hesitated to give you my confidence. But I feel I cannot stand the strain much longer, and so— "
That was all.
A great wave of pity swept over the gallant detective's generous heart as he looked from the letter to the pale face of the man who had appealed to him too late. Yes, too late! If Enright had sat down to write that letter an hour sooner, he might have been a hale and hearty man now. Blake might have saved him from the terrible doom which had swept over him.
"He died like a true Britisher!" he murmured. "Away from friends, faithful to duty, to the last, surrounded by enemies, and not knowing the moment when they might strike. There is some terrible mystery here. Is this a political outrage, or a private act of vengeance? The latter, I believe. Anyhow, my duty is clear.
Enright turned to me for help, and though I am too late to save him. I can at least avenge his death. And I will not leave Spain till I do that. No! Though all Logona turns against me, I will bring the villains to Justice!"
He gently laid a handkerchief over the face of his dead friend, and then hurried from the house. In half an hour he returned with Tinker at the head of a posse of Spanish police, and he hauled down the British flag to half-mast. Having despatched an urgent telegram to the Foreign Office in London, he busied himself amongst the dead man's papers, and morning found him at the same task, tired, and still completely baffled. It was well on to noon, and all the town was still in a wild ferment over the tragedy, when a messenger arrived with an answering telegram.
"To Sexton Blake, Logona, Spain. Profoundly shocked to hear of tragic death of Enright. Please act as Consul pending fresh appointment. You are given full powers, and requested to take immediate steps to bring assassins to justice. Glad to feel that you are on the spot. Despatch follows.— His Britannic Majesty's Minister for Foreign Affairs."
BLAKE sighed, threw a pile of letters and envelopes on to the middle table where Tinker was seated, and began to pace the room.
"I've scribbled my instructions on all these letters; you can answer them now, and I'll sign them in the evening," he said. "By the way, is there anything more about that British sailor who was arrested last night?"
"He's in the lock-up still, and quite comfortable. I fetched him round a square meal and some tobacco," Tinker replied. "He's safer there than aboard ship, till they're ready to start. He did lay about him last night, sir, and the skipper thinks the Spanish chaps are only waiting to get on to him."
"He wasn't to blame; the Spaniards picked the quarrel with him," Blake said. "Still, I don't suppose he minds being kept on land."
"Not a rap!" Tinker chuckled. "He's having a holiday, and getting the best of good living. And he knows that his life would be in danger if he wasn't well guarded."
"Yes, they're a lawless lot here, and a British Consul must take care to avoid international complications. How about that widow, Mrs. Munger? Will the skipper of the Cyclops take her back to Britain? If he can do that, you'd better pay her fare."
"All right."
"Is there any other business just at present? Oh, yes! I'm to marry a couple here at twelve o'clock. Isn't that so?"
"Yes, sir. And there's the case of that poor chap Andrews, who went daft on the voyage out on the Miranda. He claims that he's sane again now, and he wants you to call at the asylum on his behalf."
"Then write' to the authorities, making an appointment for ten o'clock to-morrow morning. And that trouble between the captain of the troop steamer and his crew. I looked into that after you went to bed last night, and I'm certain that he's to blame. He's bullied and half starved them, and I'm not surprised that the men threatened the, mutiny. Tell him to call here this afternoon, and I'll give him a piece of my mind. If necessary I'll write to Liverpool, and see that his superiors deprive him of his command. And these reports about the olive trade? You're getting on with them, I hope."
"They'll be ready to-morrow night."
"Good! Well, that disposes of routine work for the present; and now I can get back to that sad affair of poor Enright," Blake said. "That in itself is more than enough to take up all my time. Heigh! I wish I could get a clue."
He stood for a moment with his hands in his pockets gazing out of the window. Never had he been more mystified at the outset of a case he had set himself to solve than in this one. The Spanish authorities had been unable to assist him in any way. There were no papers in the Consulate giving a hint of any sort as to the motive of the crime; no communications had come from other places which either directly or indirectly might throw a light upon the sinister object of the assassins. All was wrapped in impenetrable darkness. And Enright had been dead ten days now.
As he stood he saw a stout, middle-aged man coming round the bend in the avenue, and a few moments later the bell rang.
Tinker left the room, and shortly returned with a card in his hand.
"There's a Britisher to see you. He says he has just arrived, and that his business is most urgent."
"Mr. Theodore Z. Sparrow. Show him in," Blake replied, letting the card fall on to his desk, and dropping wearily into his seat.
The stout man entered the room, blinking continually, and mopping his round, red face with a bandana handkerchief. His manner was jerky; he seemed ill at ease. Blake pointed to a chair.
"You are the British Consul?" the man began.
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"Well, sir, my name is Sparrow, and I'm the managing director of the Logona and Tangee Lead Smelting and Exploitation Company," the other began. "Our offices are in the city of London and at our last Board meeting it was decided that I should come out here. I've travelled overland, and I want you to give me the protection I claim as a British citizen."
"The Logona and Tangee Lead Smelting Co.!" Blake said. "I didn't know there was such a business in the neighbourhood."
Mr. Theodore Z. Sparrow coughed apologetically behind his fat hand. He blinked more furiously than before, and then adopted a confidential manner.
"We're smart business men, Mr.—er—"
"Blake is my name."
"Oh, we don't let the grass grow under our feet, Mr. Blake! We've formed the company, and we're sure to make it pay. But as yet it's only in its infancy. The property is situated fifty miles from here, on the far side of that chain of mountains yonder, and I want to get there. They tell me that the journey is not a safe one without an .escort, and so I've come to you. You're all-powerful here, sir. A letter from you requesting civility from the Spanish authorities would help me along a lot."
"You've formed the company. Have you got the allotment yet?" Blake asked.
"We're a private company, sir. When the right time comes we mean to appeal to the public."
"And you believe that the property is very valuable?"
"We know that for a fact."
"Have you any workmen out here yet?"
"No. But our engineer is coming out to join me in a week's time, and after he has made his suggestions, we will start."
"Ha! There are districts in Spain where a good deal of British and American money is invested already in silver, lead, and iron mines, but so far this neighbourhood has not been prospected," Blake said. "And though I've only been here a fortnight or so myself, yet I've heard very disquieting reports as to the people beyond those mountains. You are undertaking a hazardous journey. I warn you that I cannot be responsible for your safety. If I took that responsibility on myself as British Consul, and you were attacked, our Foreign Office would have to intervene, and possibly there might be grave trouble. Of course, if you have obtained the assent of the Spanish Government to this project— "
"We haven't done that, because it was not necessary. Our dealings have been with a Spanish gentleman who owns the property."
"May I ask his name?"
"Don Conde Valdava."
"Then, Mr. Sparrow, I think you would do well to write to Don Conde Valdava, and wait here in Logona, until he sends down an escort for you," Blake suggested. "As it is to his interest as much as yours that this project should be carried through, I have no doubt he will take every possible care of you. I must be very cautious in matters like this."
"But the delay!" Sparrow urged. "It is most important that I should get there at once.
"What is the reason for the particular hurry?" Sparrow blinked and looked away.
"I am not authorised, unfortunately, to give much information," he explained. "I hope you will take it from me that there is a good reason for my speedy departure, and help me. After all, I think I am entitled to claim assistance from you! You are Consul here, your duty is clear. I come to you as Britisher, and you are paid to— "
"Oh, if you take that tone, my answer is soon given!" Blake cut in, rising from his chair. "I am the representative of his Majesty King Edward in this district, and I am to look after British interests; but certainly I am not to help in a foolhardy expedition. If you go it will be at your risk, and if you come to grief I will report to our Foreign Office that you acted against my approval."
Sparrow jumped up. His whole expression had changed; his manner now was insolent.
"I guess you're a bit too big for your boots, my high and mighty official!" he blustered. "When I get back to London I'll go straight to Whitehall and lodge a complaint against you. If you don't write that letter I'll-"
"That's enough! Leave this office!" Blake commanded. "I've work to do, and I don't want to use force with you or any man unless absolutely necessary. Go! And don't come here again until you are prepared to speak with civility."
Sparrow glared at Blake, then he wheeled round and tramped out of the house. With a smile on his face the amused detective loaded and lit his pipe and sat down at his desk, but presently he turned and addressed Tinker.
"You might wire to London and make inquiries about this man Sparrow, and the Lagona and Tangee Lead Smelting and Exploitation Company," he said. "And you might also go down the town and find out what you can about this gentleman, Don Conde Valdava. There's something about that fellow Sparrow that strikes me as strange. He doesn't seem the right sort by any means."
Tinker took his hat, and left the office. When he returned an hour later, Blake was sitting out in front of the house, and he held up a telegram as Tinker advanced.
"Why, surely, they haven't had time to answer my wire already!" the lad protested.
"No. But read that," Blake chuckled, "and tell me what you think of it."
Tinker glanced eagerly down the telegram.
"HAVE JUST RETURNED FROM LONG SEA VOYAGE, AND HAVE HEARD OF LAMENTABLE DEATH OF POOR ENRIGHT. PLEASE SAFEGUARD OUR INTERESTS. WE HAVE CONCESSION OF PROPERTY BELONGING TO DON CONDE VALDAVA.—SIR ARTHUR HOLMEAD."
"Whatever does this mean? I'm fair puzzled!" Tinker muttered.
"It means that Sparrow is a swindler!" Blake said. "But it means far more than that, too. Can't you see? This is the clue I wanted! Poor Enright was guarding the great financier, Sir Arthur Holmead's, interests, and it is on that account that he was put out of the way!"
"Then you can get to work on this business now?"
"Yes, I hope so. Anyhow, I mean to try. But the task will be hard and dangerous. They did not hesitate to take Enright's life when they found him in the way. They will tackle us, too! That's certain!"
BLAKE that evening was signing the letters for the post, when a Spanish official was announced. A tall, swarthy man, with dark eyes, and dressed in a finely-braided uniform, entered the office and bowed courteously.
"I am Juan Tegada, and I have come to see the seņor," he began.
"Pleased to meet you," Blake replied cheerily. "You are the head of the police in Logona, I believe? Quite so. What do you wish with me?"
The head constable sat down.
"A man has just come from beyond the mountains. He has been badly beaten, and has barely escaped with his life. He had the ill-fortune to fall in with Camora, and he wants to see the seņor."
"He wants to see me! Is he then a Britisher?"
"No, seņor. He is a Spaniard called Rivera."
"It s rather strange, then, that he should turn to me in his trouble," Blake replied. "Who is this man Camora who assaulted him?"
Tegada bent forward and gazed wide-eyed at Blake.
"The seņor does not know Camora?" he gasped. "But the seņor has not been long here. Yet even so—"
He stopped, still in perplexity.
"Go on. You interest me," Blake said.
"Camora the bandit! The terror of Logona!" Tegada continued. "For two years he has defied all Spain, and terrorised the countryside. He has levied toll on every traveller, he has demanded heavy ransom for his prisoners; he has pillaged and plundered all who have dared to defy him. At first we sent a dozen soldiers to arrest him, but he drove them back within three days; then a hundred men wont forth to seize him, and they returned in confusion. Then a regular expedition was organised, and for a week he held the troops at bay, and got off at the end. Since that time he has been more audacious than before. In the mountain fastnesses he is king; he rules with a rod of iron."
"Who is he? What is his history?"
"We do not know who he is, or where he hails from," Tegada replied. "The Government has offered an enormous reward for his apprehension, but his followers are true to him; none can be found to give information against him. Sometimes he is quiet for weeks; then we get news of some daring attack. He goes and comes like the wind, and though he has often been seen in the mountains yet he has never approached the towns."
"A daring bandit certainly," Blake said. "And from what you say it seems to me that the authorities feel he is too much for them."
"We warn all travellers to avoid him, and we hope to catch him yet, but we are waiting till he walk's into a trap," Tegada explained. "The country around here is very wild and rugged, seņor; fifty men on the mountains could easily keep a regiment at bay. Many thousands have already been wasted in the effort to take him prisoner, and we are not a wealthy nation."
"And this is the man who attacked Rivera!" Blake replied thoughtfully. "I will accompany you to the police-station. Certainly I should like to hear what he has to say."
He got up, took his hat, and, leaving the Consulate, he walked down the hill to the town. The streets were crowded with indolent Spaniards, who gazed sulkily at the police officer, but made way for him speedily. Tegada clanked along, his spurs jingling, and led Blake into a low-roofed grimy police-station in, the market-place. There a man, haggard and half-famished, was sitting on a bench, nodding in an uneasy sleep, and Tegada had to touch him sharply on the shoulder before he awoke. He started when he saw Blake.
"You are a Britisher!" he said feebly.
"Yes."
"And Seņor Enright is dead. That was the news that greeted me this morning when I arrived here. The seņor's death is a great loss to me. He was my good friend, and
I have gone through much in his service. Seņor, I would like to speak to you alone."
Blake requested that Tegada and the other policemen would withdraw, and when they were out of earshot, he sat down on the bench next Rivera.
"You knew Mr. Enright, the Consul?" he began.
"It was for him that I went to the mountains," Rivera whispered. "Are you the British Consul now?"
"Yes."
"Then I will tell you what befell me. I know the mountains, for I lived there as a lad, and two months ago Seņor Enright came to me here in Logona, and spoke to me. He asked me many questions, which I answered, and he bade me see him later on at the Consulate. I went there by appointment, and after that I called on him frequently, and he questioned me much. Then one night he told me that he wanted me to go to Don Conde Valdava, of whom you may have heard."
"Why did he want that?"
"I do not know. I was to take a letter and give it to Don Conde Valdava, and then to return here. That was all he asked of me, but it was more than I felt I could risk."
"Why?"
Rivera shivered.
"The seņor does not understand, I see:" he said. "One has to go through the mountains to see the good don. Even he does not travel without an escort! When he comes to Logona or to the other towns he travels with fifty armed men, and sometimes he has had to fight his way. For Camora the bandit is not afraid even of him. How could I then look forward to the journey but with fear?"
"Yet you did go?"
"Because I am a poor man; and Seņor Enright offered me one thousand pesetas, I went, fool that I was!" Rivera groaned. "And I was beaten for my pains, and the seņor is dead, and I have not received the money."
"If what you say is true you will not be the loser for undertaking the journey," Blake explained. "I am in Seņor Enright's place, and I will carry out his wishes. But is there more you can tell me? Of what did you and the seņor speak together?"
"Of many things. Of the country that lies beyond the mountains, and of the roads that lead there; of this cruel bandit Camora; the seņor spoke often of him; of the good don, and his lovely house and of the great property he had. The seņor never gave me the reason for the questions he asked, but I could see that these thoughts were always in his mind."
"And did Camora rob you of the letter when he caught you?
"No. I did the work I had undertaken. I saw the good don and gave him the letter. It was on my way back that I was seized and carried before Camora, and then he ordered that I should be beaten."
"Did the don give you any message to Seņor Enright?"
"He read the letter, and put it in his pocket, and told me to tell the seņor that in a few days he would hear from him; that is all," Rivera replied. "He was kind to me, as he is to all men; and when I had rested a day and a night in his castle, I returned rejoicing, for having eluded Camora on the way up, I thought I could return in safety. But, alas, I fell into his hands, and the wonder is that I got down here alive."
"I will see to it that you are cared for until you are restored to health," Blake said. "And when I make certain that all you say is true, you will have a good reward. But first I must think over all this. Now go home; and here are twenty pesetas to buy you what you need."
Rivera arose, and left the police-station with painful steps, and Blake advanced to Tegada.
"That man has told me some strange things," he said. "How far is it from here to Don Conde Valdava's castle?"
"A matter of thirty leagues, seņor."
"Does the don come often here?"
"About twice in the year. His visits are all too few, for he spends his money generously, and the town rejoices when he rides in. Has the seņor ever seen him?"
"No; but I hope to do so soon. He sent word that before long he would call on Mr. Enright. By the way, a Britisher named Sparrow arrived in Logona yesterday. Have you seen anything of him? Do you know if he is still in the town?"
"A stout man? There was one such yesterday; making inquiries for a mule, and saying that he intended taking a journey. Palenga, the mule dealer, could give the seņor more information. I have not seen the Britisher since early yesterday afternoon."
Blake went out into the market and succeeded in finding the mule dealer. After some conversation with him, he returned to the Consulate, and bustled into the office where Tinker was still working.
"Tinker, I'm going on a journey," he said. "You might get my revolvers, and fill my bandolier. I shall be back by daylight, I hope. Sparrow has left Logona, and I want to follow him."
"Are you going towards the mountains, sir?" the lad asked in amazement.
"O yes."
"But that bandit Camora! If you run foul of him—"
"Oh, that will be all right! I've had some very useful non s just now. It seems that Enright sent this man Rivera with a letter to Don Conde Valdava, and that certainly looks as if Enright was negotiating with the don on behalf of Sir Arthur Holmead and his party. Now we have this fellow Sparrow here, telling me all sorts of lies, and starting off for the mountains, too. He spoke falsely when he said that his dealings had been with the don.
"By all accounts the don is a high-minded gentleman, and, having given a concession to Sir Arthur Holmead, he could not enter into negotiations with other people. Whatever has induced Sparrow to go up to the mountains, I'm certain he has not gone to see the don. Of course, may duties tie me down here a lot, but I have been directed to make full inquiries as to the cause of Enright's death, and—"
"And you think you may find out something by going after Sparrow?" Tinker asked.
"I think that Sparrow may lead me into very interesting surroundings," Blake replied. "He is playing some crafty game, and if I get in touch with the scoundrels he is seeking, I may come upon valuable information. A mule will be at the door in an hour's time. Let us have some supper, and then I will make ready to start."
"And I cannot go with you, sir?"
"You had better stay here. We cannot leave the Consulate unattended unless for some special reason. Besides, there is no danger to be apprehended. I am only going to reconnoitre."
THOUGH Blake had spoken so lightheartedly to Tinker, yet it was with a grave face that he rode away along the road to this mountains. The wind was moaning through the trees, drops of rain had begun to fall, and half a gale was blowing as he left the sheltered woods behind, and came out on a wide stretch of rocky country, where he caught the full force of the wind.
There was no habitation of any sort in view; no glimpse of man or animal. He was in the midst of a barbaric desolation.
Up the hill the mule toiled, stumbling occasionally on the loose stones, and before long the ascent became steeper, and the road thinned away to a rugged path.
After three hours' riding he came to a posada, or house for tramps, and dismounting, he entered the long, narrow room that of itself composed the building.
Around a long table grimy, hawk-eyed Spaniards were seated; others lay close to the walls on the damp floor. All looked surly and suspicious. The landlord hurried forward from behind a small bar when he saw a well-dressed stranger on his threshold, and a murmur ran round.
"The seņor has come to enjoy my hospitality? I will do all I can to make the seņor comfortable, so that he will honour me with his presence again," the evil-looking landlord began, smiling and showing his yellow teeth. "What would the seņor like?"
"I want a word with you," Blake replied: "Follow me out to the open air. I care not for the company of your guests. Yes; if you tell me what I want to know, I will pay you according to the value of the information you give."
Disappointment and a sour look had come into the man's face as Blake first spoke, but the last sentence sent another grin across his dirty features. He hurried out.
"All I know I will tell," he began. "If the seņor suspects anyone here of robbery or violence, he has only to say."
"No, no! I am looking for a Britisher—a stout man astride a mule, who has passed this way. How long has he gone, and was he alone?"
"He came early this morning, and being exhausted and not used to travelling; he slept long, and did not leave till well towards evening," the man replied.
"And was he alone?"
"He went away alone."
"Ha! Then he met others here?"
"It is as you see," the landlord replied, pointing towards the posada. "Folks are always here. Some go, some come, and there is constant change."
"That is not what I mean. Did the Britisher meet friends here?"
"There have been no other Britishers but him and you for many days past in my posada," the landlord replied. "Would that there were more, for they have money, and they pity the poor, and pay well, and—"
"Enough!" Blake said sharply. "If you will not answer my questions, then there is no need for me to stay. I will mount my mule again and ride away, and you will be the poorer, for you have not told me what I asked."
"The seņor is offended. What would he wish to know?" the landlord cried in alarm. "I am but a dull man, and—"
Blake rattled the silver in his pocket.
"Did the Britisher get into conversation with any of the Spaniards he met here?"
"Oh, yes, he did."
"And were they expecting him?"
The scoundrel looked sharply at Blake.
"Is the seņor a friend of this other Britisher?" he asked hesitatingly.
"That is not for you to ask," Blake retorted. "As you will not speak straightforwardly—"
"I will tell what I have seen," the man cried, his eyes twinkling with greed. "There were three men here, and they spoke to the Britisher when he came in; but I did not hear what was said, for I have work to do, and it is well in these parts not to know too much. They went away shortly after he came."
"And did they go towards the mountains?"
"Yes."
"And he went that way too?"
"He did; and he had hard work to master the mule, for it wanted to turn the other way, and he is but a poor horseman."
"And how far away is the next resting-place?"
"Four leagues from here, if not more. But surely the seņor is not travelling further on such a night as this? The danger is great, for the roads are bad, and I can give him more comfort than be can hope for at the next posada. For his own sake—"
"Here, take this money!" Blake said, dropping some coins into the scoundrel's twitching hand. "I have heard what I wanted to know; now I will push on."
Without further parley he mounted his mule and rode away. Looking back for an instant, he saw the landlord still standing in the roadway, and that he was now surrounded by half a score of the ragged ruffians, all whispering animatedly and gazing in his direction.
He rode on steadily, leaving the mule to pick its way along the track in the darkness; and after an hour's riding, he had left the posada far down on the mountain-side below.
Still he jogged along, his right hand ever ready to grasp his revolver if attacked, the wind beating against his chest and face, and the rain coming down from the mountain-top in a driving mist.
Cramped and drenched, he drew rein at last, when he saw a twinkling light half a mile ahead, and dismounting, he led the mule till within three hundred yards of the house ahead. Then, fastening the bridle to a stout clump of furze, he advanced on foot.
When within fifty yards of the posada, he made a short circuit, so as to face the door and window, and then he crept forward slowly and cautiously. There did not seem to be anyone nigh, so he approached near to the window and looked in.
As he had half expected, Sparrow was in the room. He was sitting at the table. Three Spaniards were around him; revolvers lay before them. On the floor men of the tramp class were sleeping, but those conversing with Sparrow were quite of another type.
Tall, bony mountaineers they looked, hard visaged and hook nosed, with strong chins, sharp, flashing eyes, and resolute carriage. Their dress, too, was different from that worn by the townsmen—close-fitting tunics, narrow trousers and leggings, big boots, and peaked caps.
And Sparrow seemed quite at his ease. As they plied him with questions, he answered them readily and rapidly, smoking a big cigar, and occasionally causing them all to launch into hearty peals of laughter; and presently he drew a packet of documents from his pocket, and spread them out on the table.
The three Spaniards eagerly seized on the papers, and began to examine them with intense interest, turning to Sparrow frequently for elucidation on one point or another.
That Sparrow and these men were far more than mere acquaintances was obvious after the first few moments of observation to Blake, and he began to long for the moment when the Spaniards would take their departure.
"If those fellows would only clear out, I would have no hesitation in wresting those papers from Sparrow," he murmured, as he kept gazing in through the window. "The fellow is a scoundrel. He has come out here under false colours; that much I know already. And I think it is quite likely that a perusal of those papers might throw a strong light on much that is a puzzle to me at present. Of course, if there was nothing of a suspicious nature in them, I could give them back to him; but certainly having come all this way, I don't like to return empty-handed."
He sauntered off, and, going to the back of the posada, he began to search for Sparrow's mule. It was not there, so he walked to a clump of trees near at hand, and there he found the mule tethered to a branch. To his surprise he saw three other animals picketed some distance away, so he went forward and looked at them. They were hardy, muscular creatures, in the pink of condition, with good saddles and bridles, and evidently well cared for. As he took note of these facts, and was searching in the saddle-bags for any evidence he could get, he chanced to look back, and saw that the Spaniards were hurrying in his direction. He crept away, hid behind a rock, and waited until they mounted and rode off. They went towards the mountains, but not directly.
No sooner were they gone than he hurried back to the posada. Sparrow, too, had left and, alarmed lest he might escape, and delighted at the same time at the chance that had come his way, Blake hurried to the spot where the scoundrel's mule had been tethered. Sparrow had mounted, and Was jogging slowly off.
Blake broke into a run and followed, but the road was rough; he stumbled frequently, and some minutes passed before he got close to Sparrow. Hearing the clatter of footsteps on the stones behind, Sparrow looked back, saw a man hurrying threateningly after him, gave a shout of alarm, and hit the mule with all his strength. The stubborn animal lashed out, ducked its head, and the scoundrel held on desperately to the pummel Of the saddle.
Next moment Blake was alongside, and, gripping Sparrow by the shoulder, he pulled him to the ground.
"Ah, it's you!" Sparrow gasped. "So you have been spying on me, have you? You cur, I might have known you would!"
They were struggling desperately. To Blake's surprise, he found that this stout man was no mean antagonist. He knew something of wrestling, too, and turned and twisted continually out of Blake's grasp. But at last Blake had him pinned down on his back, and, wrenching open his coat, he pulled out the bundle of documents. Sparrow struck at his arm, and the papers jumped from Blake's hand, and were scattered on the ground. And as Blake sought to get them again, and Sparrow fought to prevent him, a hoarse yell arose, and half a dozen ruffians who had come out of the posada, and now were only thirty yards away, dashed towards the spot. At the same moment a shout arose from another direction, a revolver shot rang out, and the quick thud of hoofs warned the intrepid detective that the mounted Spaniards had taken alarm on Sparrow's account, and were galloping back as fast as they could.
He had one of the papers in his hand. He dared not wait to fight for more. As it was, the danger was imminent. He sprang to his feet and made a dash for life and liberty.
To reach his mule, Blake had to run straight for the crowd rushing towards him from the posada, and he charged full tilt in amongst them. They were of indifferent physique, and he scattered them to right and left. Some hit at him, others fell before him, and, stumbling over the legs of one man, he came to the ground. But he was on his feet next moment, and running again at top speed. Behind him the mounted Spaniards kept in hot pursuit, and as he got near to his mule, they were close behind. Turning, he took steady aim and fired. The leader of the trio went down, his mule shot through the chest. Again Blake fired, but his shot went wide. The third, however, caused a second Spaniard to drop the reins and yell with pain and fury, and his companion, scared out of his wits, pulled up.
Blake took to his heels again, vaulted on his mule's back, and cantered away.
Down the hill he went at full speed, knowing that most likely he would be pursued, nor did he draw rein till he had left a couple of miles between himself and the posada. Then he dismounted, and striking match after match, he examined the document he had wrested from Sparrow. His first impression was one of disappointment as he gazed at it; this was followed by a feeling of bewilderment, and then by a strange curiosity. For on the paper was a roughly-drawn map—that was all. A clump of trees, a spot in the centre marked by a cross, and a small path running from the left side of the paper to the clump—these made up the map, and there was no writing to give a hint as to its meaning or locality. He vaulted into the saddle again, and jogged slowly down the hill.
"Why should Sparrow have a map of this sort?" he murmured in perplexity. "If he has come out here about this lead mine, of what use can such a mysterious document be to him? Why did these scoundrels in the posada take such deep interest in it and the other papers? And what can all this have to do with the death of Enright? Am I on the right track after all? Was Enright murdered on account of the part he played in connection with this concession, or was his death due to some reason quite apart from this matter? And why did Sparrow ask me for protection as a British citizen, when he seems able to go through this lawless district not only unmolested, but apparently on good terms with these lawless scoundrels? All this is most puzzling!"
The rain had stopped, the wind had died away, the night was pleasant. For an hour he journeyed down towards Logona, and so deep was he in his thoughts over the mystery of Enright's death, that for the time he had forgotten the stirring incidents of two hours before. But it seemed as if he was still destined to meet with danger. He reined up and listened intently. A cavalcade was approaching. He could hear the thud of hoofs and the clanking of sabres. The night was still pitch "dark, and he was unable to detect from whence the danger came. He walked the mule slowly on, and turned a corner.
"Halt! Who goes there?"
The command came crisp and stern. At the same moment a score of horsemen galloped forward and surrounded him. Then a shout went up.
"Hands off! Leave him alone!"
The troopers drew away, and as they did so, Blake noticed that they were all superbly mounted. A medium-sized, well-made man, evidently the leader, rode forward and saluted Blake.
"At your service, friend!" he said. "What possibly can your errand be that you ride unattended in this most dangerous country? Why, your life is not worth a moment's purchase if the ruffianly bandits caught you!"
The man's manner was pleasant; he spoke in excellent Spanish, his manner was dignified.
"I am the British Consul at Logona!" Blake replied. "I came up here on business, and I knew the danger I was running, but I risked that. May I ask your name?"
"I am Conde Valdava! Ha! You are a Britisher! That accounts for your recklessness! You Britishers have no thought of caution! How different it is with us! Though I am the owner of all this country as far as you can see from the peak of the highest mountain in daylight, yet I dare not sally forth without armed men to protect me. I am pleased to meet you, Mr.—er— "
"Blake is my name."
"Not Sexton Blake, surely?"
The don's horse sprang forward restlessly, and for some moments he had difficulty in quieting it. At last it consented to stand still again. The don held out his hand.
"I'm delighted to make the acquaintance of a man of whom the world has heard so much!" he said. "It is a happy chance that brought you this way. I seldom go to Logona, and, therefore, I might never have seen you but for this unexpected meeting, for you will be leaving Spain before long, I suppose?
"I have some work to do first."
"Indeed?"
"I have set myself to unravel the mystery of Enright's death. "You knew him, don? He sent you a letter shortly before he died."
The don looked keenly at Blake.
"Your reputation is well deserved; you are a man of wonderful energy, and you seem to gather news almost by inspiration," he said admiringly. "Yes, Enright sent me a letter, and I was much shocked to hear of his death. So you mean to avenge it?"
"I do. And as we have met, I hope you will give me a few moments of your time, for there is something about which I would like to speak to you," Blake went on. "You gave a concession of a certain part of your property to Sir Arthur Holmead which he wants, as it is reported to be rich in lead ore? Is not that so?"
"Yes. So you know that, too?"
"I got a telegram from Sir Arthur, asking me to safeguard his interests," Blake explained. "Perhaps you can tell me, don, how they are affected."
"Ah! In the same way as my own!" the don sighed. "Property here is not safe. I gave the concession, but I am powerless. A villain called Camora is master here. He is the real ruler; the Government can neither catch him, nor stop his lawlessness. You see how I am placed. I have to ride with a mounted guard. I have to be ready at any moment to withstand attack. If I was not a proud and obstinate man, Mr. Blake, I would leave here; but I will not yield, though the Government has deserted me. My life is one of misery, I assure you, all owing to this scoundrel who defies the law."
"But could you not catch him yourself, don?" Blake asked. "You would shoot him at sight if you met him, I suppose?"
The don smiled.
"I have met him, and have been glad to escape from his clutches," he said. "This whole district is swarming with his bandits. People do not know who are his adherents; no man trusts the next."
"So that for the present the concession is useless to Sir Arthur Holmead?" Blake said.
"He must make terms with Camora," the Don replied!" His workmen won't be safe otherwise. Camora is amenable, and in some ways he has ideas of honour. He never goes back on his word, though he strikes a hard bargain always. If he caught you, Mr. Blake, he would demand a heavy tribute for your ransom."
"I shall never advise Sir Arthur to pay tribute to an impudent bandit!" Blake said sternly. "That is not the way with us, don! We do not truckle to fellows like that. However this matter ends, Camora will get no British gold. But one thing more. I believe that in some way or other Enright's death is connected with the settlement of this affair."
"Oh, you take that view?" the don said eagerly. "What are your reasons for coming to that conclusion, Mr. Blake?"
"So far, my theory is not developed. In fact, I am working more on suspicion than on proof, so I have nothing to say worth the telling," Blake replied. "You may be able to help me, though. Do you mind informing me as to what Enright wrote to you?"
"Yes."
"His letter was much in the strain in which you have spoken," the don explained. "Sir Arthur Holmead had written to him continually, complaining that he could not set to work, and Enright, of course, appealed to me. I told him of my helplessness. Finally, I said that he had better tell Sir Arthur that nothing could be done until either Camora was captured, or terms were made with him. And in reply to that, Enright sent me this letter, stating, just as you have said, that he would never advise Sir Arthur to recognise Camora, or have any dealings with him."
"And to that letter you sent a verbal answer by special message, saying that you would soon call on Enright?" That Blake explained, "did you intend to say when you both met? As I am Enright's successor, I should like to know."
The don tapped his boot with his whip, and stared up at the sky before replying.
"Well, I meant to reason with him, Mr. Blake; I can't say that my views had taken definite shape," he said slowly. "As a man of honour, I feel keenly the obstacles that have been placed by this fellow, Camora, in Sir Arthur's way; and yet, as a man of business, I don't see why I should refund what Sir Arthur paid for the concession just because a state of lawlessness has arisen after the bargain has been made. I have given the concession, and the ore is there. It is Sir Arthur Holmead's business to extract it as best he can; I have nothing to do with that. This scoundrel, Camora, has hit me hard enough in many ways as it is. It is to the Spanish Government that Sir Arthur Holmead should look for redress."
"And was that the suggestion you meant to make to him?" Blake asked.
The don paused again before speaking.
"No. I had told him that already. Frankly, Mr. Blake, I wanted to change his views, if possible. You Britishers are practical; you say there is no sentiment in business. If that be so—and I quite agree—then, surely, it would well pay Sir Arthur to hand over some thousands to this man Camora, when doing so would enable him to work the property without let or hindrance. As things are at present, it Is a dead weight on his hands. If he could get to work, he would be making thousands annually, and this payment would be a mere fleabite. That is the way I meant to reason with Enright, for I feel the present unpleasant state of affairs acutely—and that is the way I now put the matter to you."
"We believe in business, but we never yield to blackmail!" Blake replied. "Some way must be found of defending the rights of a Britisher, even in lawless Spain, don; but it will not be the way you have suggested. You may take that from me as a certainty."
He gathered up the reins as he spoke. His voice was cold.
"Oh, well, I have done my best, Mr. Blake!" the don answered. "But if you do not deal direct either with Camora or the Spanish Government, I fail to see how you are going to succeed."
"I shall deal very directly, but not with the Spanish Government," Blake replied. "That might lead to serious international complications, and it is the business of a Consul to avoid quarrels between the country he represents and the one to which he is sent."
"You mean, then, to tackle Camora?"
"I am not afraid of him," Blake said bluntly.
The don smiled.
"Others have said that already, and have had cause to change their minds," he remarked. "I don't envy you the job. Ah, dawn is breaking! You will be able to return in safety to Logona now, Mr. Blake, so I will push on homewards. Farewell for the present. But I hope that before long you will come to see me."
"I shall be delighted!" Blake replied.
"Good! Then I will send an escort for you, and do my best to make your visit enjoyable. I am shortly leaving home for a few days, but on my return I will let you know. Adieu till next we meet!"
And, raising his hand to his hat in salute, the don rode into the centre of the circling horsemen, and the cavalcade clattered away.
IF Tinker, or any other person who knew Blake intimately, had seen his face as he rode towards Logona after his pleasant chat with Don Conde Valdava, he would have been considerably surprised; for the look in his eyes was peculiar, and he sat his horse like a marble statue. And thus he rode all the way down the mountain-side; and when he pulled up, in the early morning sunlight, at the Consulate, he walked like a man in a dream.
"Hallo, sir! You're back all right?" Tinker cried through the open window. "Not knowing when to expect you, I didn't stand on ceremony, and the ham and eggs are frizzling hot. I'll order more coffee and grub for myself; you'd better tuck in at once, for you must be dead fagged and hungry."
Blake walked into the room and stood by the table, looking out of the window for several moments in silence.
"Anything fresh and startling?" Tinker asked, in wonderment.
Blake started.
"Go on with your breakfast," he said. "I'll have a tub and a change before I sit down." He looked absently out of the window again. Then suddenly he rested both hands on the table and bent across. "Never in all my life have I experienced what I am feeling at this moment—never!" he said almost fiercely.
And, rapping the table sharply with his knuckles, he wheeled round and tramped upstairs.
Tinker looked at the door open-mouthed for some seconds. Then he sniffed, and the juicy fragrance of the ham and eggs tickled his nostrils. Forthwith he pulled off the dish-cover, and helped himself liberally. For three minutes he ate with stolid satisfaction, and then he looked at the door again.
"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered fervently. "Dunno as I have ever experienced the feeling he's just given me, either. What's come over him? His face is downright strange. Has he seen a ghost? Yah! It's only kids and women as talk that rubbish. But something altogether out of the common is up against us on this job, I'll be bound. I shouldn't wonder if he left this one-horse place for a week or a month. Well, if he does, I'll run the show all right. A Consul's life ain't half bad, bossing everyone in the name of King Edward! That's the sort of work that would suit me down to the ground."
He chuckled as he plied his knife and fork again; and then he sprang to his feet, rang the bell, and ordered Blake's breakfast. Having enjoyed a hearty meal, he had the table arranged and everything ready when Blake at last descended from his room.
The latter, still absorbed in his own thoughts, took the meal in silence; while Tinker, lying on the sofa, watched him out of the corner of his eye, and it was only when Blake had lit his pipe, and had dropped into an armchair, that the strain on his features relaxed.
"Anything to report since I left?" he asked.
"No, sir-except there has been a cablegram from Sir Arthur Holmead, and a report about Sparrow from Scotland Yard. The natives here have been behaving themselves, which is fairly wonderful, and so my duties have been easy."
"What does Sir Arthur Holmead say?"
"He begs you to hurry up, and arrange everything with Don Conde Valdava. He says the business has been dragging on for six months now, and—"
"For six months! Only for that length of time?" Blake cried, sitting up straight. "Why, the don told me that he had given the concession before this fellow Camora started as a bandit!"
"You've seen the don?"
"Yes, yes. I met him this morning on my way back. This is past belief. Even with this evidence, I can't bring myself to think that—" He was pacing the room rapidly now, and, wheeling round, he almost glared at Tinker in his excitement. "What about Sparrow?" he continued. "Is he known to the police?"
"He's never been in trouble, but he's under suspicion as a member of a long-firm swindling gang," Tinker replied.
"He has opened and closed offices all over London in his time; and on getting your wire, they went to his last known address, and found it was empty, furniture cleared out, and rent owing. They'd be glad if you'd keep an eye on him."
"I'll do that on my own account," Blake said grimly. "I'm thinking more of Camora at the present moment than I am of him, though. I do wish I'd had a good look at these ruffians who rushed out of this house the night I found poor Enright stretched out dead. What a lot that would help me! All I know is, that they were wearing cloaks, and these fellows up in the mountains dress in tunics. Can Camora have allies here in the town? If so, we ought to be able to track them out."
"But what about the don? What sort of a time had you got with him?" Tinker asked.
"Oh, a very charming man!" Blake replied. And the odd look that had been in his eyes on the way home returned again. "The don can't do anything to help us. He's powerless, poor fellow! He has to ride about with a mounted guard. He is most distressed on Sir Arthur Holmead's account, and he suggests that Sir Arthur should make terms with this villain Camora. The don is a most excellent liar, too! I can't get him out of my head."
"But you said you were thinking most of Camora," remarked Tinker.
Blake stopped and looked at the lad.
"I always think of him when I think of the don," he said. "That's funny, isn't it? Tinker, I'm beginning to wonder if my wits are leaving me. Sometimes such staggering things happen that a man is knocked altogether off his balance. The most incredible idea has come into my mind, and I can't get rid of it. Well, let us go to the office, and begin the day's work. That must be got through, though I feel I'd be glad of a few hours to think things out steadily."
"The first thing you have to do is to go to the asylum," Tinker said, rising from the sofa. "You told me to write to the authorities, making an appointment for ten o'clock this morning, when you would call about the man Andrews."
"Oh, yes; I remember. Very good. I'll start off at once. By the way, where is the asylum, do you know?"
"Down by the shore. Turn to your right when you get to the market-place, and the road will take you straight to it, sir. It's about thirty-five minutes' walk from here."
Blake took his hat and stick and left the Consulate; but in the fresh air, with the birds singing overhead, and the smoke curling lazily from the chimney-pots, and the blue sea lying like a panorama down below, it was hard to realise that only a few hours before he had been fighting desperately for his life amidst a nest of bandits. In the reality of matter-of-fact existence, the past few hours seemed like a dream.
He tramped along, returning the salutations of the people, but all the time his mind kept reverting against his will to the meeting with Don Conde Valdava. Only when he opened the asylum gate did he succeed in arousing himself to the business of the day; and it was in his brisk, authoritative manner that he gave his name to the attendant, and requested to see the doctor in charge.
The doctor soon entered the room, and they shook hands.
"We've had your letter, Mr. Blake. You are the new Consul?" he began. "My name is Crispi. Well, about this man Andrews. His is a very extraordinary case; we've been puzzled about him from the start. Would you like to see him?"
"He has written to me, and it is my duty to accede to his request," Blake replied. "But, first, I'd be glad if you'd give me your opinion about him, Dr. Crispi. He claims that he is quite sane now."
"I'll send for him. Just wait till I ring the bell, then we can talk whilst they're fetching him, Mr. Blake. Take a seat, pray! I'll give you my opinion with pleasure."
"And what is that, doctor?"
"Why, that he never was off his head; that he has been sane all the time. Occasionally, he has behaved in a very extraordinary way, but I think he was only shamming. Do you know anything about the man? He's a very sly fellow, I think."
"No. I've never seen him, and I never heard his name till yesterday," Blake explained. "How was it that he was taken here?"
"The skipper of the Miranda went to Mr. Enright, the late British Consul, and reported that Andrews had gone mad on the voyage; that he had to put him in a state cabin by himself, and keep him guarded when they were two days out. The ship's doctor gave a certificate, so Enright sent him along. I never saw a fellow less upset than Andrews was when he found himself under lock and key. Most of them get in a terrible state. He took confinement without a murmur."
"But since then he has been violent occasionally?"
"Yes; but only when we talked of giving him his freedom. He seems to me to be quite happy here."
"Yet he wants to leave now?"
"He does; and, as far as I'm concerned, you can have him, Mr. Blake. I see no reason for his detention."
"How has he spent his time?"
"Reading the shipping news, and looking out to sea through a telescope."
"Has he been a sailor?"
"I shouldn't think so. He looks like a man who has always been ashore and engaged in business."
"And what about his friends? He wrote home, I suppose, and got letters in reply?"
"Only to one man with such a funny name that it has stuck in my head," Crispi said, with a laugh. "Mr. Theodore Z. Sparrow! Ha, ha, ha! It's not fair to hallmark a poor fellow for life with such a name as that!"
Blake was never more thunderstruck in his life. He could hardly refrain from an ejaculation of astonishment. This man Andrews had been feigning madness, he had become violent when his discharge was mentioned, he had always been reading the shipping news and gazing out to sea—and he knew Sparrow! Sparrow was his friend—the only one he wrote to! And now Sparrow had come to Logona, and at the same moment Andrews begged for his release. Ah, here was something to investigate—something that might lead to much!
He walked to the window and looked out whilst these thoughts whirled through his mind. For his own secret reasons he thought well to raise difficulties, so he spoke a trifle testily.
"I may be taking an unwise course in sanctioning this man's release," he said. "For one thing, he may be insane—and I can't judge of that. It may be well if I get another medical opinion."
"Get as many as you like, Mr. Blake! They will all agree with me!" Crispi replied confidently.
"Then again, I have him on my hands if I take him out of here," Blake went on. "I must send him back to England if he wants to go, and that costs money. And if he refuses, and has no means of support here, he will get into mischief before long, and be a continual nuisance to me. A case like this is very vexatious to a Consul! Still, I suppose I can't shirk it!"
"Here he is coming along the corridor, and you had better see him anyhow," Crispi said. "Shall the attendant stay here, or will you see the man alone?"
"Let the attendant wait out in the corridor—I'll call him if necessary," Blake replied. "Show Andrews in, doctor—I'll hear what he has to say."
A SMALL, strongly-built man, dressed in shabby tweeds stepped into the room, glanced at Blake, and then stared at him fixedly.
Certainly there was nothing of an insane character in that look—rather, it seemed one of questioning calculation. The man's face too seemed to become a shade paler on the moment.
"Your name is Andrews?" Blake asked.
"Yes, sir."
"You wrote to me, and you say that your mind is quite strong now, and therefore you claim your freedom?"
"That is so, sir. I was a bit queer for a time, I see now, but I am as fit as ever again.
"What part of England do you come from?"
"From Lancashire."
"You don't speak with the north country accent," Blake remarked, gazing quietly at him.
Andrews evidently was taken aback. He started.
"My parents were Londoners, sir, and I got my accent from them," he said hurriedly, "but I'm a Lancashire man all the same."
"The doctor thinks that you can be liberated," Blake went on, "so I will make arrangements for you to be sent home."
"I don't want to go home!" Andrews cried earnestly. Blake had expected that answer—he had been angling for it—but his face was like a mask as he went on.
"But you have no means," he reasoned, "and I cannot help you if you stay here. A Consul is empowered to ship destitute Britishers home when they are in difficulties—it is not his business to aid them on foreign soil if they wish to stay there. You had better go."
"But I came out here to make my living! My chest is not strong—the Old Country don't agree with me! The doctor at home told me that I wouldn't live a twelvemonth if I didn't go to a warm climate!" Andrews urged. "You would be sending me to my death if—"
"How did you mean to earn your living when you came here?" Blake cut in.
"At my trade!"
"And what is that?"
"I'm a bootmaker."
"Your hands don't look as if you were accustomed to work of that sort! I should have thought you were a clerk in an office," Blake said.
Andrews became uncomfortable again.
"I've done no work of any sort here; my hands have had time to get as white as a gentleman's," he said. "What I say is true, anyhow. I hope you don't think that—"
He stopped.
"Go on. What were you going to say?"
"I mean that you're talking to me as if I was the wrong sort! I'm a respectable man, and I've gone through a horrid bad time, and it's jolly hard to be cross-questioned, and bullied, and ill-used!' Andrews whined, almost tearfully.
"I'm not bullying you," Blake replied.
"You're going on very funny, anyhow—and I've been bullied enough here! Not allowed to go out, and ordered about, and—"
"I'm afraid the doctor has made some mistake. You are still very fanciful," Blake said gravely. "Perhaps if you remain on here for another few months—"
"Don't say that!" Andrews cried earnestly. "I must get out at once! If I don't I'll lose a job—I'll—"
"Oh, so you have a job to go to! You didn't tell me that," Blake interjected. "What's the name of the firm that will employ you?"
Once more Andrews looked confused.
"I've forgotten the name—I can't remember this Spanish lingo," he said; "but I'll soon be able to find 'em out! I know the street—a fellow at home who'd been out here described it to me—and I'll walk round till I hit on it. That won't take me long, for Logona is a small place—after London anyhow!" And he chuckled.
"I thought you came from Lancashire," Blake explained.
"You are sharp, sir!" Andrews groaned. "There'd be no getting round you if a chap wanted to! Yes, I come from Lancashire right enough, but I spent eighteen months in London, and saw the size of it. And I'm a good man at my trade. I reckon I'll be able to please 'em here without much bother!"
"Of course, if you have employment to go to, that alters the case," Blake remarked, as if thinking out the question deeply. He paused for a few moments, and there was silence. "All right, Andrews, you can have your liberty! I make no objection!" he said. There are certain formalities to be complied with first, but then you are free to leave. In an hour's time they will be settled. Attendant! I'm ready, for you now. Come in. You can take this man away."
He had thrown open the door, and was calling down the corridor. The attendant beckoned to Andrews, the two tramped off together, and Blake picked up his hat and stick. Dr. Crispi entered the room again.
"Well, what do you think of him?" he asked
"He's quite sane, so far as I can judge," Blake replied. "I must thank you for all your kindness to him in the name of my country, doctor. And now you'll excuse me if I hurry away? Like yourself, I'm a very busy man, with much on my mind."
They parted, and Blake walked swiftly down the avenue. Once out in the road, however, he stopped for a few moments, looking in all directions, and presently he crossed towards the cliffs. There, behind the bushes, he lay down, lit his pipe and began to smoke, stretched at his ease as if he intended taking a holiday. From where he was he could see the asylum gates, and, resting on one elbow, he kept his eyes on them. Thus time slipped away, and a couple of hours had passed when the gates were opened and Andrews stepped out.
He did not pause a moment, but hurried along the road towards the town. When he got to the market-place he passed through it and made straight for the harbour. Several small craft were there and three large steamers, loading or unloading cargo. He went aboard a two thousand ton vessel, spoke to a sailor, followed him down below, and came upon deck again in a few minutes. Stepping ashore he returned towards the town, making continual inquiries on the way, and at last he dived down a narrow, malodorous lane, and entered a house hurriedly.
Two hours later Blake walked into the Consulate. "You've been kept a good time, sir; and folks have been calling here!" Tinker said. "The French Consul called round to pay his respects—there's his card—and the mayor, or whatever he's called out here, is giving a banquet, and has sent you an invitation; and the British clergyman, Mr. Spender, wants to know if you'll open a bazaar in aid of the church next week, and a merchant called Fostin is in no end of trouble! It seems that—"
"These things must all wait till I have time to go into that," Blake said quickly. "Tinker, that man Andrews, for whom you had such pity, turns out to be a regular fraud! What do-you think? He's an accomplice of Sparrow's! He's never been mad at all! He spent months in the asylum with a definite purpose, and as soon as Sparrow came here he wanted to get out."
"And have you let him out?"
"Yes. I made difficulties, just to throw him off the scent, but he's gone now. I waited till he was released, and then followed him.. Sparrow told us that he came overland, you remember? That was another of his lies. He came by sea!"
"How do you know that?"
"Because Andrews went straight for a steamer, and went aboard her; and after I had tracked him to his hiding-place, I returned to the ship and made inquiries. Sparrow had been a passenger aboard her, and he had left a letter for Andrews in the care of the steward."
"Things are beginning to look up a bit!" Tinker said cheerily.
"And Andrews has been here before. He knows Logona well, the artful villain—though he pretended to me that he was quite a stranger!" Blake went on. "I was much struck in the first instance by the way he got about as soon as he left the asylum. He was taken there direct on landing, of course, as he was adjudged insane, and this morning he hurried along, taking every short cut down to the harbour as if walking over old ground; so I made inquiries, and I found out that he speaks Spanish excellently."
"Great Scott!"
"Yes. He had to ask his way to the low quarter of the town where he is in hiding at present, for he lived here in better circumstances before, no doubt. I spoke to the people whom he accosted, and they told me he knew the language well. And if you saw him when I met him in the asylum! Well, the man is a capital actor! He's as cute as a fox, whoever he is!"
"And he's lying low, you think?"
"Oh,yes—waiting to hear from Sparrow, I expect. You must give over your work here, and go down and keep watch on him, my lad. He won't know you, so you'll be able to track him from this on without difficulty."
"But all the work here? There's a fearful lot to be done!" Tinker protested.
"We'll polish it off in a couple of days when we lay ourselves out to do it!"
"You can't polish off Fostin and all the other chaps if you don't know what they want, and when they are going to call again," Tinker said. "And then—"
"Oh, well, well, what about Fostin? Don't make difficulties! This fellow Andrews must be shadowed, whatever happens. Tell me all the appointments you've made for me, and I'll manage to be here to keep them."
"Fostin is in no end of trouble, as I've told you, sir," Tinker began. "He was a very wealthy merchant—been out here thirty years and he made his pile. I could do with the half of it comfortably. And—"
"We're talking about Fostin—we're not discussing your financial circumstances," Blake protested.
"Well, his financial circumstances ain't what they used to be," Tinker replied. "Whilst he stuck to solid business—exporting raisins, and nuts, and grapes, and oranges, and—'
"And almonds—don't forget the almonds!" Blake cut in derisively. "Really, Tinker, you're becoming quite longwinded and tiresome! Can't you get on and come to the point?"
"I'm only repeating what he said," Tinker continued desperately. "He's a business man, not a financier, and now he's come to grief. He's been speculating and lending money, and he's owed six thousand pounds of British money value. He counts it in those blessed pesetas, but after a lot of trouble I've worked it out exact, barring the decimals, about which I know nothing and care less."
Blake sighed.
"Take your time, my lad, and wander on like an old hen through a ten-acre field," he said resignedly. "I'm in no hurry; you know that."
"And he wants it back, and he wants you to get it for him," Tinker added quickly. "I'm doing my best to put the case before you, sir."
"Who owes it to him?"
"Don Conde Valdava."
"What!" Blake cried. " Valdava owes money?"
"There, I thought I'd surprise you!" Tinker chuckled. "Somehow I guessed that that would make you jump!"
TAKING his hat, Tinker left the Consulate and went down to the town to shadow Andrews. Blake, when alone, sat without moving for some minutes. As Tinker had anticipated he had been deeply stirred by the news that Don Conde Valdava had borrowed money.
He was sitting still in a reverie when Fostin called and introduced himself. Blake met him with great cordiality. Fostin was the average type of steady, sturdy Britisher. He told Blake that he had come out to Logona thirty years before with only a few pounds in his pocket; that he had taken the first work that came to hand; that after saving for a few years he had started business for himself in a small way; that his affairs had prospered gradually, and that after twenty-five years' of close attention to business, he had made an ample fortune. It was at this stage in his career that he had met the don.
"And how did you happen to come in contact with him?" Blake asked quickly. "The don is the biggest man in this part of the country, and these Spanish grandees are very proud and distant."
"I met him in a business way," Fostin explained. "It began by his ordering goods from England through me, and later on, when I sent in my account, he called one day when he was in Logona, paid the account and chatted with me. Later on he gave me more orders for which he paid, too; and having seen me three or four times, he took me into his confidence, explaining that his means were not as large as people supposed. I advanced him a thousand pounds on that occasion, and since then I have lent him various sums till he is now in my debt for six thousand pounds."
"And you don't seem to think that you will get it back?"
"He's owed me the money for eighteen months, and he has never repaid a penny of it," Fostin replied. "Neither has he come to my office during that time when he has been in Logona, and he doesn't answer my letters. Business has not gone well with me in the last few years; some of my speculations have turned out badly; and I am now crippled for money. If I don't get that six thousand pounds back, I shall be unable to meet my liabilities. I am on the verge of ruin."
"But surely you represented all this to the don?"
"I did, and he hasn't taken the slightest notice," Fostin replied dolefully. "So I have come to you, sir, as British Consul, to safeguard my interests. He would do for you what he would refuse to me."
"I'm not so certain of that," Blake said gravely. "You have given me a good deal to think about, Mr. Fostin. However, there are pen and paper. Sit down and write me a letter stating these facts and authorising my intervention. Then I will see what I can do."
When Fostin, having written the letter, had departed, Blake busied himself with his correspondence; but his mind often wondered from his work. Sometimes he would get up and tramp about the room, murmuring to himself; then with a strong effort of will he would sit down at his desk again. Evening closed in, and he lit the lamp and continued to write, but at last he flung down his pen.
"It's no use!" he said, jumping to his feet. "I can't settle down to this routine work; my mind keeps running on one thing. Can my suspicion be true? Certainly, if it is, it helps to explain much that is puzzling at present. I must make certain; I cannot rest until that is done. But how am I to begin? What excuse am I to make for sallying forth and—"
Hearing the quick patter of feet on the road outside he stopped and listened.
"Tinker! I know his footsteps!" he said. "And the lad is running swiftly. Something unexpected has happened; he is startled. I have had a feeling all day that some strange catastrophe was impending!"
He hurried to the hall door, and as he flung it open the lad swung in by the gate. As he came into the light of the hall Blake could see that his collar and tie were awry, his clothes were torn, his face was pallid, and his chest was heaving.
"What's happened?" Blake cried.
"Fostin!" Tinker gasped. "They set on him! I tried to help him—"
"Who set on to him?"
"Andrews and a lot of these Spanish cut-throats!" Tinker jerked out. "They tried to do for me, too; but I managed to slip through their hands."
The lad was in the office now, lying back exhausted on a chair, and panting hard. The sleeve of his coat was ripped. Blake touched it.
"Did they do that?" he asked quickly.
"Yes. One fellow lunged at me with a knife."
"Tell me all that happened since you left."
"I went to watch Andrews as you directed," Tinker began, speaking unsteadily; "and I found the house all right. I hung about there till it was getting dark, and then Andrews and an Italian came out. They hurried to the market-place and got talking to three cloaked scoundrels who were outside a booth, and the lot came up the hill this way. They lolled about the road until Fostin came walking down, and at once they set on to him. They didn't mean to injure him, though."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because they flung him to the ground and tried to gag and bind him," Tinker explained. "He fought hard and yelled for help, and, of course, I ran to his assistance. At that moment a chaise and pair turned the corner and came galloping up the hill. I shouted to the driver to help me, and I dashed in amongst the scoundrels. That gave Fostin a moment to get on his legs, and seeing there was a chance of his escaping they drew their knives. He was knocked down again, and I was flung on top of him."
"Yes, go on!"
"I dodged them and hit out, and wriggled into the ditch, and when I scrambled out, a couple of the ruffians were waiting for me. Fostin was in the chaise by that time, held down by three of the villains, and the driver was whipping up his horses."
"What? Then he, too, was in the plot?"
"Yes. That fairly amazed me. One of the curs lunged at me; but I dodged back in time, and he only ripped my coat. The horses were galloping madly up the hill, and there was nothing to be gained by fighting any longer, so I bolted. They followed me for a while, but I outpaced them, and got here."
"Which way did the chaise go?"
"This way!"
"It did not pass here; I would have heard it," Blake said. "Come, my lad; we must get on their track whilst the scent is hot! Fostin has been taken to the mountains, and we must follow to-night."
Blake hurried out and tramped rapidly down the road in the darkness. He came to a turning, leading off by the side of the mountains, and there he stopped and examined the ground by the light of his pocket electric lamp. There were the marks of recent carriage-wheels.
"Come on down to the town; Tinker," he said gravely. "We must see the police and go into this."
They descended the hill; and crossing the market-place they hurried to the police-station. There Blake, as British Consul, was met with much respect. A message was sent to Tegada, and he soon arrived. He conducted Blake and Tinker into a private room.
"See here, Tegada," Blake began firmly, "my young friend has been set on by a lot of desperadoes, and it's a wonder he escaped with his life. Look at his sleeve! It has been ripped open by a dagger! And a British resident here has been assaulted and kidnapped! You know him well; he's one of the most respected men in Logona—Mr. Fostin!"
The head constable groaned.
"Camora's gang!" he gasped. "Will they never give us any peace? I'm most truly sorry, seņor! All that is possible will be done. If the scoundrels return to Logona and are identified, they will pay heavily for this!"
"That's not enough!" Blake said sharply.
"It's all we can do, seņor!" Tegada protested humbly. "These things are happening continually, and we are helpless. As I told you, the Government spared no expense to capture Camora, but he frustrated us every time."
"As long as he committed assaults and depredations on Spaniards, it was your affair; but when he attacks Britishers the matter becomes my business," Blake replied. "I tell you, Tegada, the matter cannot rest here. If necessary, I will invoke the aid of my Government. Whilst I am Consul, every Britisher in Logona will be free to go about and attend to his work without any molestation, from this bandit Camora, or anyone else."
"But what would the seņor have us do?"
"Well, since you ask that question I'll speak plainly," Blake replied. "I think it is a disgrace to your police that such lawlessness should be allowed to continue; I have no respect for a Government that permits an outlaw to devastate a country side; that villain, Camora, should have been laid by the heels long ago. There is not a part of the vast British Empire where such things would be tolerated. And I am not going to stand it now.
"The seņor knows I would do anything I could, but I have only a few men under any authority, and they are Not sufficient to keep order here," Tegada said sorrowfully.
"So it seems when respectable citizens can be kidnapped!" Blake retorted. However, my mind is made up, and if there is mischief, your people will have to abide by the consequences. If the British Consul is assassinated by Camora, or anyone else, all Britain will demand reparation."
"They wouldn't dare to attack you, seņor?"
"Bah! I know as well as you do that it was Camora's gang that killed Mr. Enright," Blake retorted warmly; "only as yet I am unable to bring the crime home to him and his confederates. They'll attack me—and before long, too—and if I fall there will be ten times the trouble that Camora is giving at present, mark my words!"
"We will take care of the seņor. We will place a guard around the Consulate!" Tegada suggested quickly.
"Yes, I want you to do that last in my absence," Blake said, with a laugh.
"The seņor is leaving?"
"Yes."
"And where is the seņor going? I ask in order that we may guard him."
"I am going up to the mountains. I am going to drag this scoundrel Camora out of his lair," Blake said, speaking hotly. "If all you Spaniards are afraid of him, I am not! If you men refuse to rescue a Britisher from danger in your country, then my duty is clear. I must go after him without counting the cost. I intend at once to wire to the King of Spain telling him that his Government has left me no alternative but to tackle this fellow, Camora, single-handed, and stating that he will be held responsible for Fostin's life, and the lives of my young friend and myself, if we fall."
Tegada's jaw had dropped. He could hardly believe that what he heard was true. He looked at Blake with astonishment amounting to terror whilst the latter was speaking. And when Blake had stopped and had swung round to leave the room, he rushed forward and clutched him by the arm.
"Stay, seņor! This is madness!" he urged with agitation. What you are undertaking is not humanly possible. You will only throw away your life for certain. Do you know that Camora has at least a thousand men who will rally to him in a night?"
"If he had five thousand, I would not change my mind!" Blake replied firmly. "I know the danger as well as you do, Tegada. But I am the British Consul, and responsible for Fostin's life. I must save him or perish. That is the way we Britishers have been trained. All over the world men of my race are always ready to face death at the call of duty. Come along, Tinker! The time for talk is over. I've had enough of it. We'll strike a blow on our own account."
AS soon as he left the police-station Blake began his preparations for the hazardous journey. He sent a telegram to the King of Spain, and cabled a report in cipher to the Foreign Office at Whitehall. Then he went into the town to purchase the necessary equipment. At midnight all was ready, and, closing the Consulate, he and Tinker rode away.
They both bestrode strong, active mules, and each led another, with a large pack upon its back. Nothing that could conduce to their safety had been forgotten; besides a good store of provisions, simple cooking utensils, and a tent, they had rifles, revolvers, and cases of ammunition. Tinker was in a state of excitement he could not hide, but Blake was serious and silent.
They took the road to the mountains which Blake had traversed when following Sparrow, but before they reached the first posada they bore away to the left. Crossing the heather and rock-strewn hills, they toiled till daylight, and then Blake called a halt. As Tinker cooked the breakfast the sun arose, and they saw they were about half-way between the sea and the top of the nearest mountain.
All that day they rested, keeping a sharp look-out through a telescope on every side, and when twilight gathered they loaded the mules and continued their journey. Next morning they were but a few hundred yards from the mountain summit. Blake told Tinker to attend to the mules, and, without waiting for breakfast, he struck off on a tour of investigation.
He did not return for several hours, and Tinker was growing alarmed at his prolonged absence, when suddenly he hove in sight, walking with evident weariness. He dropped to the ground when he reached the camp, ate some food ravenously, and slept for an hour. He awoke tired still and sleepy, but ready for work, and for the first time since they had left Logona he became communicative. Chancing to glance at Tinker as he filled his pipe, he laughed softly.
"You're wondering what all this means, my lad?" he chuckled. "Ever since we started I've been evolving some plan by which we might hope to checkmate Camora; and, after a great deal of anxiety, I'm glad to say that I've found the first move. In a couple of hours' time we'll push on."
"Where are we going next, sir?" Tinker asked.
Blake lay on his back, resting his head on his clasped hands, and watched the grey smoke of his pipe curling up towards the blue skies.
"We're going into hiding!" he replied. "I mean to imitate Camora's tactics as far as we can. You know what they say about him in Logona. He comes and goes like the wind. No one knows where he is to be found. Well, I've been looking for a place to which we can retreat when hard pressed, and I mean to make it the base of our operations."
"That's a good idea!" Tinker said heartily. "But Camora knows every square foot of these mountains by this time. Won't it be only a matter of time before he tracks us down?"
"I've thought of that. If we always retreated to the same place he'd find it out before long; but I mean to rove about, and only seek safety in this spot as the last alternative. As he'll be after us all the time, he won't think we've got a special hiding-place, and so he won't look for one.
"What I want particularly is some cache where we can hide our luggage, and from which we can replenish our stock of food and ammunition from time to time as occasion demands. And when you see the spot I have selected, I think you will agree-with me that I have been fortunate in my search."
They packed the mules and started again when the heat of the day had passed. As they rode along by the side of the mountain, Tinker realised how arduous had been the walk that Blake had taken that morning. The way was rough, the journey was long, and the day was closing In as Blake turned down a gully, dismounted, and led his mule over a pile of stones, and disappeared suddenly from view.
Following him, Tinker saw, to his amazement, that a steep cliff was on the far side of the gully about a hundred yards away. It rose almost perpendicular for a hundred feet, and forty feet from the ground was a hole, looking at that height to be about the size of a bird's nest. Blake skirted the cliff, and at the side was a tangled valley, very small and circular.
In the rock at the side was a large cave, and, having driven the mules into this, they gathered as much herbage as they could for them, and barricaded the entrance. Then, carrying their stores round to the foot of the cliff, Blake pointed up to the hole.
"That's our hiding-place, my lad," he said. "I scaled up there this morning, and I'm going up again now. I'll take a rope with me and lower one end when I get there. You fasten the cases to it one after another, and I'll haul them up. The climb is not so difficult as it looks, and we'll soon get used to it, and it will be strange if we are not able to keep Camora and his gang at bay if they ever attack us up there. As long as our ammunition and provisions hold out we ought to be able to defy them."
The next hour was spent in transporting the cases from the ground to the hiding-place, and when all had been housed, Tinker tied the rope to his middle, and Blake hauled him up. The lad was delighted when he got into the cave. It was roomy and high, and the opening was quite eight feet in every direction. He set to work to put everything in order, and as they sat down to supper he chuckled heartily.
"This is a strange home for a British Consul, I'm thinking, sir!" he said. "I wonder what the folks at home would say if they could know that you are hiding here instead of living in a good house with the Union Jack floating overhead to warn all nations to keep clear? Why, we might be a couple of bandits ourselves instead of the representatives of King Edward!"
"Many British Consuls have had as strange experiences in the discharge of their duty from time to time," Blake replied, cutting another chunk of bread, and helping himself to some cheese. "The folks at home seldom hear of these things, Tinker, unless there is a big disturbance, as in that case in Russia lately, when a British Consul, at the risk of his life, rode single-handed into an armed mob, and quelled a riot. It is men like him who keep the British Flag respected all the world over. I dare say some of them have gone after outlaws as we are doing now. Many of the bravest deeds have never been told."
"Well, you've taken on a big order, anyhow!" Tinker said admiringly. "This fellow Camora seems to be a particularly lively sort of nuisance. How are you going to tackle him, sir?"
"The first thing is to find him," Blake said, with a dry laugh. "As no one ever sees him, except when he is out on the war-path, that won't be very easy."
"What do you think he'll do with Fostin?"
"Ah, I don't know! Why should he have seized Fostin? What could have been his reason for doing that?"
"To hold him to ransom, I suppose, sir."
"But Fostin is not a wealthy man now. He has lost a great deal of his money."
"Camora may not know that, sir."
"I should think that Camora knows the financial position of everyone in Logona," Blake dissented. "He has his spies, and he is not the sort to make a mistake. Before he takes the risk of kidnapping anyone, you may be sure he finds out if the game is worth the candle. No; Camora did not capture Fostin in the hope of booty. There was another reason."
"And what was that?"
Blake shrugged his shoulders as he stood up.
"Time will show," he replied. "I may be mistaken in my theory. Now, are you ready? We'll make a start."
"Shall I saddle the mules?"
"No; but take the rifles and ammunition, and enough provisions for three days. We can't know how soon we may return."
They descended to the ground, and after a glance at his pocket-compass Blake struck off, still to the left, around the side of the mountain. Evidently he had decided on his objective before starting, and Tinker, who knew that the country was strange to him, was much surprised at this. Blake walked on, confident of his direction, and for three hours they tramped in single file, seldom stopping or speaking.
As they progressed, the country became less bleak, the rocky passes gave way to stunted shrubs, and, later on, to small trees and rough pasturage, and they got on to a wide, comparatively level plain. This, in turn, led to a wood, through which they passed, and, emerging on the far side, they came to the edge of a wooded valley, with regular fields where cattle were enclosed, and where a river lay like a belt of silver in the moonlight. For some seconds Blake stood looking down on the pleasant, homely scene.
"That's a nice place, and a very celebrated man lives there," he remarked presently, in an odd voice.
"Who is that?" Tinker asked, his curiosity aroused.
"Don Conde Valdava, the greatest magnate in this part of the country!" Blake replied. "A man most honoured and exalted. He goes in terror of Camora, though. Even his position does not save him from the depredations of that lawless scoundrel."
"But you don't expect to find Camora here, do you?" Tinker asked. "I thought we were going after him tonight."
"The don honoured me with an invitation to his castle when I met him on the mountains the other morning," Blake said, speaking meditatively. "I think I will avail myself of his kindness, and call on him now, though, to be sure, the hour is not very seasonable. As for Camora, he can wait. His fastness lies over in the opposite direction, and we are safe from his attentions for the present.
Down the path there, my lad. It's been well trodden, as you can see, and the foothold is sound. The don often tramps up this way to get the view, I suppose."
He began the descent whilst speaking, and the path wound evenly and gently down the hill. It ran across a field at the bottom, and at the far end of the field they crossed a stile, and stepped on to an avenue. Ten minutes more walking brought them, at a sudden turn, in sight of the castle, and once more Blake stopped and looked around carefully.
The castle was of the mediaeval style built in the time of Philip the Second of Spain, when that monarch, in his arrogance and folly, launched the Armada for the destruction of England. It was a massive building, with thick walls, small windows closely barred, and turrets at the four corners; and the river had been directed so as to flow round it in the form of a moat. A drawbridge now lay across the moat, and on the far side, beyond a small, circular sweep, was the entrance-porch. The windows were in darkness; the don and his retainers were asleep.
Blake advanced slowly, but instead of crossing the bridge, he walked round the moat, gazing at the walls. There was no way by which entrance could be obtained to the castle except by the hall door. Having made certain on this point, he unslung his bandolier, and handed both it and his rifle to Tinker.
"You take these, and stay exactly here," he said. "If I want you I'll whistle. I'm going to haul the don out of bed on urgent business—that is, if he's at home."
BLAKE crossed the bridge and knocked loud and long at the door. Then he tugged at the bell. A window overhead was flung up rapidly, and a voice rang out:
"Who goes there?"
Blake stepped into view. He saw a man leaning over the window-sill, and he recognised him at once.
"Sexton Blake, the British Consul!" he said firmly. "Don Conde Valdava, I should like to speak to you!"
He heard a gasp overhead, and he smiled. The window was closed, and after a protracted delay the hall door was opened by the don himself. He held out his hand in greeting.
"Mr. Blake, you are welcome!" he began. "But I confess to considerable amazement at this visit. You have run a desperate risk in venturing here, unless you have brought troops to guard you."
"I have brought no troops with me," Blake replied, casting one swift glance at the don as he stepped into the hall. "I have called at a very inconvenient hour, but I hope you will pardon that. The urgency of my business must be my excuse. I should like to speak to you without delay."
"When you have travelled so far and in face of such great danger it would ill become me to grumble because I have been awakened a few hours before my time," the don replied graciously. "I am altogether at your service. Step this way; here we will be alone."
He had closed the door, and now he led the way to a room close by. Blake walked in, and saw he was in a long, broad, sumptuously-furnished library. The walls were lined with bookshelves, marble busts and curios were in every corner, the furniture was of priceless value, the carpet gave softly to his footsteps; wealth, refinement, and luxury were evident in every detail. The don had dressed rapidly, but with care; he looked the fitting owner of such elegance and taste. He waved Blake to a chair with a white hand when he had switched on the electric light by touching a button at the doorway, and, as he sat down, the expression of surprise and alertness with which at first he had greeted the venturesome Britisher, gave way to a smile of cordiality.
"My servants are all asleep, but I will have them called and a meal prepared for you," he said. "You are welcome to my ancestral home, Mr. Blake, though if that fellow Camora knew that you were here—"
"It's about him I have come," Blake began.
"About Camora? Why, how can you possibly hope for aid of any sort from me? When I had the pleasure of meeting you on the mountain side the other morning, I told you that he is master in this district, and that even I go in fear of him."
"You must conquer that fear," Blake said, gazing keenly at the don. "Your honour is at stake."
The don returned Blake's steady glance. Then, rising, he went to a cabinet, drew forth a box of cigars, and held it forward.
"Have a smoke?" he suggested. "Your statement is so melodramatic, my dear Blake, that I'll need a weed to soothe my nerves!" There was a strange catch in his voice as he spoke. "My honour is in my own keeping, and I hardly think you could have travelled all the way from Logona just to talk about that."
With a polite gesture Blake declined the proffered cigar, and the don carefully selected one, cut the end, and lit it.
"Your honour is in your own hands at present, but that may not be so for long," Blake said; and again both men eyed one another narrowly.
"That affair of the concession to Sir Arthur Holmead is not quite a feather in your cap, don. You have got his money, and he has got nothing in return!"
"Camora!" the don ejaculated, puffing a wreath of smoke towards the ceiling.
"It may be owing to that scoundrel Camora that you are unable to carry out your side of the contract," Blake replied; "still, you are the only one who has gained anything by it. You live in luxury here, in spite of that villain, I perceive."
"I am well protected, otherwise he would rob me!" the don explained. "But I don't suppose it is about my luxury that you have called to see me, either. Really, Mr. Blake, I think my ways of living are my own concern."
"I am sorry if you have to alter them," Blake replied. The don looked coldly at his visitor.
"Pray explain the reason for that extraordinary statement," he suggested.
"Certainly. You are in debt."
The don sat up haughtily.
"Is this an idle impertinence?" he asked.
"No; a statement of fact that explains the reason of my visit," Blake answered. "I am the British Consul!"
"I am aware of that. The position is one of official dignity, but—"
"And Fostin is a Britisher!" Blake continued.
"Fostin! Fostin!" the don said, as if in perplexity.
"The man to whom you owe six thousand pounds."
"Oh, that merchant in Logona!" the don remarked contemptuously. "Well? I do owe the sum—what of that?"
"Why this, that he has asked me to see to the matter for him."
"I do not wish to hurt your feelings, Mr. Blake," he said coldly, "but do your multifarious duties as a Consul include the collection of debts?"
"In this case they do," Blake said. "Either this money must be repaid to Fostin, or I bring the matter under the notice of my Government."
"By what right would you do that?"
"Because it seems to me that all trouble in this district hangs together. Men do not seem able to fulfil their lawful obligations owing to this bandit Camora. You cannot carry out the concession you made to Sir Arthur Holmead owing to him, and now I dare say you will state that you cannot pay this money to Fostin, because Camora grinds down your tenants and they are unable to pay their rents."
"That is precisely my position."
"And, therefore, I say that your honour is at stake!" Blake went on. "This sort of thing can't continue. You have been much respected in this district in the past, but it is not quite honourable in my judgment to incur debts you cannot meet."
"Do you presume to read me a lecture?"
"I am here to speak plainly," Blake went on calmly. "Now matters have gone from bad to worse. Fostin has been kidnapped."
"By Camora, of course!"
"Yes, by Camora."
Once again they eyed one another steadily.
"For your own sake you must help me to rescue Fostin," Blake said, after a long pause.
"Why?"
"Because when people hear that you owe him six thousand pounds, and that he has been kidnapped, they will begin to wonder if he has been kidnapped by you, and not by Camora."
The don jumped to his feet.
"This is an insult!" he cried hotly. "Mr. Blake, you are taking advantage of my hospitality. How dare you make such a base suggestion?"
"I am only explaining what is certain to be said," Blake replied coldly. "Now, don, be sensible. I am your best friend. Permit me to search this castle thoroughly, and, then I will be able on my return to Logona to tell the world that Fostin is not here!"
The don bent across the table.
"I shall do nothing of the sort," he said sternly. "I stand upon-my honour, and I care naught for evil gossip. To consent to such a monstrous proposal would be contrary to my dignity and self-respect. But enough. I fear I have nearly lost my temper. Mr. Blake, you must see on reflection that your suggestion is an outrage. We will forget that you made it. You are my guest, and I should like to honour you as such."
He began walking up and down the room, striving to master his anger. A remarkable figure he looked at that moment; pride' and ancient lineage were in every line of his finely-featured face. Blake sat without speaking. Presently the don stopped, and smiled.
"We will change the conversation," he suggested. "If later on you choose to reopen it when you have had some refreshment and sleep, then you will be entering deliberately on a quarrel with me, and of this I now give you full warning. I do not anticipate any such disaster. I prefer to think that your zeal has got the better of your judgment. So we will remain good friends. And now, you must be very tired after your long journey. I will escort you to a room where you can sleep comfortably, and we will have breakfast together in some hours' time."
He opened the door. Blake stood up. "Very well. We leave the discussion in abeyance," he said. "Yes, don I would be glad of a rest. It is still some hours to daylight."
The don took a silver candlestick from the massive table in the hall, and led the way up the broad, winding staircase. Tramping along a corridor, he threw a door open, and motioned to Blake to enter a magnificent bed-room. It was an apartment worthy of a monarch. The gilded four-post bedstead, the inlaid furniture, the tapestries and embroideries, the celebrated pictures by old masters, all harmonised in perfect taste. The works of art and fittings in that room were of priceless value, and yet, whilst the effect was luxurious and charming, there was no vulgar ostentation of wealth. The don laid the candlestick on the dressing-table, and bowed.
"Sleep well, Mr. Blake!" he said. "This part of the castle is always quiet, and you will not be disturbed."
He walked from the room, closing the door softly, and Blake was left alone. At once the great detective seized the candlestick. With it in his hand he walked noiselessly around. He examined the bed, he looked behind the pictures, he went to the door, felt it softly, then pushed and pulled it gently.
Then, blowing out the candle, he approached the window. Very slowly and carefully he raised it, and, looking out, he saw the silver water of the moat-beneath. Stepping on to the window - sill, for some moments he stood at his full height; then, with arms raised, and hands together, he sprang forward and circled through the air.
Splash!
The noise made Tinker start from behind a bush, where he had lain concealed. Creeping forward, he saw the head and shoulders of a strong swimmer crossing the moat. He waited in impatient silence, and at length Blake climbed up to the bank.
"Great Scott!" Tinker began, in a tense whisper. "You didn't tell me to expect anything like this, sir! What's the little game now? Have you and the don—"
Blake clutched him by the shoulder, and dragged him hurriedly away in silence. They got on to the avenue, crossed the field, and scaled the path up the mountain side. When there, Blake crouched down, and Tinker followed his example. The great detective's face was keen, his eyes were shining; he did not seem to feel the cold from his wet, clinging garments, so strong was his suppressed excitement. He was gazing fixedly down at the valley and the castle.
Half an hour must have passed thus, when he gave a gasp, and Tinker, following the direction in which he pointed, saw a small body of horsemen riding down the avenue from the castle. Blake jumped up, and hurried to a grove of furze about twenty yards from the pathway. There he lay down at full length, and Tinker dropped by his side. Listening intently, they heard after a time the tramp of horse hoofs coming nearer every minute. At length, after much suspense, the cavalcade came into view, mounting the path in single file. It passed thus in silence over the crest of the mountain, and the man leading was Don Conde Valdava, the Grandee of Logona!
WHEN the last horseman had disappeared over the ridge, Blake jumped up and ran to the top. The cavalcade had bunched together again, and was jogging away at a pleasant trot. Blake broke into a swinging run, and followed with Tinker at his side.
Over the uneven ground the horsemen went at about seven miles an hour, and Blake kept after them steadily.
They passed from the plain to the rocky passes through which the two Britishers had come, and when about a mile from the cliff where Blake had selected the hiding - place, they wheeled away to the left. At once Blake stopped, and Tinker, panting hard, dropped to the ground to snatch some rest while he could.
Blake walked on after some moments' reflection till he came to a muddy spot where the hoof-prints of the disappearing horses were clearly discernible. He examined thins long and minutely, then he sauntered back.
"We'll take our time getting on to the cliff," he said. "There's no need to hurry, for we'll have to pass the day there; but at night-time we'll saddle the mules and follow the line of country those men are riding. I should like to go now, but we could not hope to keep up with them if their journey is a long one."
"Who are they, sir?" Tinker asked; as he scrambled to his feet.
"The Don Conde Valdava and some of his retinue, just going for a canter before breakfast!" Blake replied, with a chuckle.
"Still, we may come on something of interest to-night if we follow their tracks. These Spanish grandees are very extraordinary people, my lad! And the don is quite one of the most peculiar of them! I had a most amusing conversation with him this morning."
He was walking on, swinging his arms, and gazing up at the sky with a smile on his face, and Tinker felt instinctively that there was a deeper meaning in Blake's mind than his words conveyed. Ever since they had left Logona the lad had been much mystified. For one thing, Blake, contrary to his usual habit, had been strangely and persistently reticent. To Tinker it seemed that he was between two minds; that he hesitated to speak because he had formed some theory, but was quite uncertain of its accuracy that, in fact, he mistrusted his own judgment, though he had every reason for believing it to be sound. And that was so unlike Blake; his confidence was always so great when finally he had come to a conclusion, that Tinker could well understand his hesitancy if this was the case.
But what could have occurred to put Blake in this frame of mind? What had he discovered, and what did he suspect? And why was he thus tramping about and visiting the don when they had come to the mountains to hunt down Camora? It was all very puzzling. Tinker felt inclined there and then to ask Blake the meaning of it all. But a second glance at his face made him change his mind, for now the great detective's forehead was wrinkled up in thought. And when Blake was that way Tinker never ventured to disturb him.
They came to the cliff, climbed up to the cave, and settled themselves for the day. After a hearty breakfast Tinker fell asleep, and when he awoke in the afternoon Blake was sitting at the edge, with telescope in his hand, searching the landscape. Tinker went down to attend to the mules, and on his return Blake was writing in his notebook. In fact, the whole day passed, without conversation, and the lad was glad when the great detective gave the order to saddle, as the evening was closing in. They soon came to the spot where they had desisted from the hunt after the don and his companions, and taking up the trail they jogged slowly along.
And now the face of the country changed once again. Having descended the far side of the mountain through a pass they never would have detected by chance, they came into a wide stretch of luxurious foliage. The trees were of immense girth and height, with great branches; babbling streams intersected the land; the grass grew tall and full, the vast plains rolled away in fertile magnificence. And suddenly over the brow of a hill they saw a long range of rough wooden buildings, half a dozen log fires in the open air, and a large body of men moving in different directions. Blake at once jumped to the ground and tethered his mule to a tree branch.
"Camora!" Tinker gasped as he slipped from the saddle. Blake was bending forward, shading his eyes with his hand. Two score horses were gathered in a rough paddock; the men were mostly in their shirtsleeves; they were moving off in couples, some carrying spades or pickaxes, others had heavy iron implements on their shoulders. They were all walking in the same direction, and their gait was that not of soldiers but of labourers. Out of the best-erected hut two men walked together, and one putting his hand to his mouth yelled wrathfully:
"Don't dawdle, you lazy scoundrels!" he yelled. "Get along—sharp! Else I'll lay a stick about you!"
Tinker rubbed his eyes in amazement.
"Bless my life!" he gasped. "I've seen that fellow before, and I know his rasping voice. I'm certain of that. Who can he be?"
"Sparrow!" Blake said laconically. "And the man with him is Andrews, whom I released from the asylum, and who helped to kidnap Fostin. So it is as I supposed. Traitor! Traitor! To what depths some men of honour fall!"
His face was so terribly stern, and his words were so startling in their bitter severity, that Tinker's heart began to beat against his ribs. He knew now that Blake had come upon some discovery of exceptional perfidy; that his manly scorn had been deeply aroused; that danger was in store for those who had incurred his wrath; that before long he would strike. He drew his breath sharply and waited for Blake to speak again.
But the latter held his peace. He was watching the band of men as they moved away. They went into the wood, and he still waited. Then, moving off at an angle he skirted the camp, and came round in a half circle to the edge of the wood. And as he reached the far side, the clang of steel on steel broke on the silence. He pushed forward grimly.
There, in the centre of a plain the men were hard at work. There derricks stood fully rigged; chains were rattling, all the machinery necessary for a large commercial undertaking was in full swing, and that Sparrow had command of the operations was soon evident as his strident voice arose from time to time, bullying the men.
"What are they doing?" Tinker asked.
"This is the Logona and Tanzee Lead Smelting and Exploitation Company, of which Mr. Theodore Z. Sparrow is the managing director," Blake said with scorn. "The property belongs to that most illustrious gentleman, Don Conde Valdava, and he sold the mineral rights to Sir Arthur Holmead. He was unable to protect those rights for Sir Arthur, and he has expressed deep sorrow to me on that account; but you see that Sparrow is working them without any fear of danger. I have suspected for some days that the don is a double-faced scoundrel, and now I have the proof. He is taking money -both from Sir Arthur and Sparrow."
"Then his talk about Camora was all humbug!" Tinker gasped.
"Very much so!" Blake assented. "But to what exact extent we will only find out in time."
"What are you going to do?"
Blake chuckled. There was a very expressive meaning in that chuckle which Tinker understood; but instead of answering the lad, the great detective swiftly turned his head and listened. Then he broke into a run.
"Quick Camora is upon us!" he cried. "Back to the mules whilst we have the chance!"
Hardly had Blake spoken when the crackle of bullets rang forth, and the stones around which they had stood were splashed with lead. At the same time a hoarse shout went up away to the hill at the right, and the workmen at the lead mine dropped their tools and stood irresolute. Without looking back Blake and Tinker raced as hard as they could through the wood, and in a straight line for the spot where the mules were tethered, and they heard the thunder of a hundred horses pounding the hard ground in a swift effort to cut off their retreat. They got to the animals, sprang into the saddles, and dashed under cover as a large troop of horsemen came round a bend in a straight line for a tree where they had been a moment before.
Instead of galloping straight away, Blake put his mule up a slight incline, and went round partly in the direction his enemies had come, but at a higher level. When he had got away three hundred yards he looked back and saw that the cavalcade had drawn rein where he had started. Jumping to the ground and lying down behind a tree he brought his rifle to his shoulder.
Crack! Crack!
The rifle rang crisp and sharp, there was a yell; but Blake uttered a groan.
"Missed him! he muttered. "You see that fellow in the middle, my lad? The man on the grey curvetting horse. Have a shot at him, too. I'm going to try another. That's Camora. If we bring him down we stop these scoundrels for ever."
Crack! Crack!
Blake and Tinker's rifles sent their message of lead at the same moment. The man on the grey horse swayed as if wounded; the horse came down on his knees.
"He's hit!" Tinker cried triumphantly.
But if wounded Camora was still full of energy. As the horse rolled over on its side he stepped safely away, and rushed to another man superbly mounted. The latter jumped to the ground and Camora vaulted into his saddle. Waving his arm in the direction in which Blake and Tinker lay, he set spurs to his horse and galloped off straight across the plain, crouched low over the gallant animal's neck, whilst a hail of bullets from the Britishers' rifles whistled around his ears.
His confederates with a challenging yell rode straight for the two Britishers. There was no time to waste; no hope to check that onward rush. Even if half a dozen had been sent to the dust the rest would have come on undismayed. Blake jumped up and seized his mule.
"They're better mounted than we are. We must trust to luck to escape," he said quickly. " Up that hill, my lad! Our mules can't keep their pace, but they can climb like cats. Straight ahead! The rougher the road, the better for us!"
A YELL went up from the bandits racing to overtake Blake and Tinker as they came fully into view scaling the hill. The dogged mules plodded on steadily over the loose stones, whilst the cavalcade swept in a terrific rush over the hard ground; but when their thorough-bred horses came to the dangerous footing they plunged and curvetted, refusing to face the danger. The scoundrels, after frequent ineffectual attempts to force them on, jumped to the ground, with imprecations, and raised their rifles to their shoulders.
But the moments thus wasted had served the two Britishers in good stead. They were near the crest of the hill now, and as a volley of bullets hurtled round them, Blake shouted to Tinker to dismount. Quick as lightning they found cover behind a rock, and as the bandits began the ascent on foot, they took deliberate aim and fired. A couple of the villains fell, but the rest, encouraging one another with cheers, pressed up the hill, slipping and stumbling at every step. Again the two Britishers loosed off, and again and again. Amidst shrieks and groans their pursuers wavered for an instant, and Blake cried to Tinker.
"Bolt to the top whilst we have the chance!" he shouted. "When you get there lie down and fire again."
Suiting the action to the word he sprang up and ran as fast as the loose stones would permit towards the crest of the hill, only thirty yards away. To divert the rifles Tinker bore away somewhat to the left, and at first this stratagem was not perceived. Just before they got into safety a deadly hail of bullets rained around them, but they managed to fling themselves on the ground out of sight of the scoundrels without having received any injury.
They opened a brisk fusillade again, and again the bandits halted and hesitated. Eight of them now were lying stretched amongst the stones; the fight put up by the two Britishers had been so well planned, and maintained with such cool courage and accuracy, that even the bravest was dismayed. But one man who was evidently the leader in the absence of Camora, and who had led the way unscathed from the start, rallied them with a stentorian shout, and they scrambled after him again.
"It's time for us to bolt. We can't keep them back any longer," Blake said hoarsely.
"Sprint for the wood as hard as you can, my lad! If we get in there before they reach the top they won't know which way we've gone."
They dashed away, running as they had seldom run before. Over the ground they raced without once looking back, and as they sprang into the shelter of the trees, they heard questioning cries from their pursuers on the hill top. Then Blake glanced back. The scoundrels had swarmed on to the open plain and were running in every direction.
Some had turned back and were disappearing down the hill.
"Come on, those fellows can't run quicker than we can, and those who have gone back for the horses will have to make a big circle round the hill before they get here," Blake said. "Don't go too fast, my lad! Just keep at a good steady trot. We'll be under cover again in a couple of minutes, and then we'll be safe enough."
They ran on side by side, plunged into another wood, got into undulating country where they were frequently hidden in the folds of the ground, and after half an hour's steady flight Blake cried a halt. Dropping to the grass he listened for any signs of pursuit, but none came. After ten minutes rest he stood up.
"We've got away—for the present," he said gravely. "But this is only the beginning. From this day on, our lives will be in continual danger until such time as we overpower Camora. They've given up the chase just now, but I'm certain that they've set to work to guard every pass, and after that they will begin a systematic search for forty miles around."
"He's wounded, anyhow. So we ought to be able to stalk him down," Tinker suggested. "He's a rum-looking cove, with that loose hair and wild beard. But he does seem able to boss them, don't he? The way they went after us when he just pointed to us and rode off himself, shows that he's made them fear him."
"Ah! That reminds me!" Blake said. "Before we leave these parts I think I'll go back to the spot where his horse fell. That is the last place where the bandits are likely to search for us, so we will be safe enough."
They walked away, keeping a careful watch on all sides, and descended to the plain. The grey horse Camora had bestrode, was lying dead; the wounded bandits had been carried to shelter by their companions; the Italian workmen under Sparrow and Andrews had returned to their huts. Blake examined Camora's horse critically, paying particular attention to its hoofs, and then he and Tinker set out on the long tramp back to the cave. They arrived there in the course of the afternoon, and slept by turns till nightfall. And then for the first time for many days Blake of his own accord began to talk freely as be sat in the shadow of the cave smoking his pipe.
"I've been thinking over all we have to do, whilst you've been taking a snooze, Tinker," he began, ramming the tobacco down into his pipe;" and though all depends upon our capture of Camora, yet there is much that needs to be linked up as well. In the first place we must bring to justice the villains who compassed poor Enright's death."
"Why did they kill him, sir?"
"He knew too much. But what exactly he had discovered still remains for us to find out. Like him we know too much now, and the same fate awaits us if they get the chance."
Tinker grinned.
"I can't say as I'm choke full of information," he suggested. "I've seen that fellow Camora, and I'd be able to identify him, and that's all, though it's more than most people in Logona can say. Ain't it curious, that none of 'em down there have ever caught sight of him?"
Blake remained silent for some seconds.
"Very curious!" he said absently. "Then, again, there is the case of Sparrow and Andrews," he went on, as if his mind had remained fixed on the enumeration of the difficulties confronting them. "They are trespassers on the property that now belongs by right to Sir Arthur Holmead, and as such they are amenable to British law. But the trouble is that they are here in Spain, and, therefore, we must look to the Spanish Government to stop their depredations unless we take the matter into our own hands and remove them by force."
"You'd capture them, sir?"
"I'll stop them anyway I can," Blake said firmly. "If I get hold of them and dragged them into the Consulate, no Spaniard dare take them out, for a Consulate is as much British territory as London, my lad. That's International Law. That is what I may have to do, but it's not an easy matter with that gang of workmen around them. Then there's the trouble of Fostin. We have to rescue him."
"We must find him first," Tinker remarked.
"Oh, we'll find him easily enough!" Blake replied lightly. "But he's well guarded; we may be certain of that. And Fostin's capture takes us on to the underhand dealing of Don Conde Valdava. Ah! There's a villain in truth. If I can show him up, I needn't worry about anything else."
He jumped to his feet, and began pacing up and down the cave. His last remark surprised Tinker considerably.
"What about Camora?" he asked. "Isn't he the biggest scoundrel of the lot?"
"I needn't bother even about him!" Blake replied, as he tramped up and down. "Well, that's what we have to do, and the job is a big one, as you will agree. And now I have decided that we will proceed step by step, hitting the villains methodically blow after blow. Let's see the order in which we are going to take them on." He began to enumerate the points on his fingers. "First. We search for Enright's assassins. Second. We deal with Sparrow and Andrews. Third. We rescue Fostin. Fourth. We tackle Don Conde Valdava. That's all!"
"And fifth we bowl over Camora!" Tinker added.
"Oh, yes, that follows as a matter of course!" Blake agreed. "Now, as we mean to make a search for Enright's assailants, we'd better get back to Logona for a couple of days. The men Camora employed for that villainy are in the town. And I have a strong suspicion that they are the same lot as kidnapped Fostin afterwards. A man uses the same tools again when once he has found them satisfactory. And a scoundrel doesn't employ more accomplices than he can help, for the fewer there are the less is the chance of betrayal."
"Then if they are the curs who kidnapped Fostin, I stand a good chance of being able to identify them!" Tinker said eagerly. "I had a good look at that ruffian who lunged at me with his knife and ruined my best coat, I can tell you. And I think I'd know the others, too."
"That is what I hope," Blake said. "I mean to put you on their track, my lad. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to see them as they rushed out of the Consulate the night when I found Enright stretched on the floor. And, moreover, I want to get back to the Consulate to see if there are any telegrams for me in answer to those I sent just before leaving. That is very important in view of a scheme I have thought out in connection with Valdava. So you'd better lead out the spare mules. We've lost those we used to ride, and we'll have to mount these barebacked, for our saddles are gone."
They left the cave, and having first reconnoitered carefully, and made certain that none of the bandits were watching in the immediate neighbourhood, and proceeding slowly and warily till past the posada, nearest to Logona, they then pushed on and rode down towards the town. About midday they entered the Consulate, where they found the rooms just as they had left them. Several letters and telegrams were in the door-box. Blake opened the telegrams at once, and chuckled heartily as he read the first.
"This is from the King of Spain, and is frank and courteous, as one would expect from that high-minded and energetic young monarch," he said. "He telegraphs that he will assist me in any way possible if only I tell him how he can be of service. Good! I'll go down to the town now, and send him another wire. He can help me as no other man can. But he'll be fairly astonished at my request."
He hurried away, and returning an hour later he marched into the Consulate in high spirits.
"I've sent the wire and started the ball rolling," he began. "In a couple of hours' time you'll see a mounted troop of police riding in haste to the mountains."
"Why? Whatever did you say, sir?"
"Don Conde Valdava is a personal friend of the King of Spain," Blake explained, "and I asked his Majesty to summon him to Court, to hear from his lips all there is to be told about Camora. I also mentioned the concession the don had given to Sir Arthur Holmead, but I didn't mention his bad faith in that matter. I asked the King to insist upon Sir Arthur's rights being preserved."
"And why did you do all that? How is that going to help us on?" Tinker asked, quite mystified.
Blake laughed loud and long.
"It looks as if I had wasted the price of the telegram, doesn't it, my lad?" he said, his eyes sparkling with merriment. "Wait till you see the don's face as he passes here! Then you'll know that I've played a trump card!"
"WHAT'S the time, Tinker?"
"Nine o'clock, sir!"
"Then load the revolvers and put out the lights. I'm expecting some visitors."
It was the evening of the day on which the two Britishers had returned to Logona from the mountains, and Blake, who had been sitting reading a book. now dropped it on the table and stood up. Tinker, completely taken aback by this unexpected statement, looked at Blake for an explanation, but the latter left the room at once and went upstairs. The lad loaded a couple of revolvers, slipped some cartridges into his pocket, and began to close the windows and lock the doors. And Blake, with a cloak over his shoulders, and a soft hat pulled down over his eyes, descended the stairs as he was putting the chain on the hall door.
"You'd better get your overcoat. The nights are chilly out of doors," Blake said. "Look sharp!"
"Are we going far, sir?"
"No. Hurry up. We can talk outside."
Tinker hastened away, and Blake having examined the windows and ascertained that all were securely fastened, led the way out of the house by the back door, which he locked on the outside, slipping the key into his pocket. He crossed over to a hedge twenty yards from the house, and selecting a comfortable place he sat down. Tinker sighed as he dropped beside him. Blake looked at him.
"Surely you know why I'm doing this?" he suggested.
"I haven't the faintest notion what the game is," Tinker replied, in a weary whisper.
"Fact is, sir, everything has been a good bit of a puzzle to me ever since you took on this job. Why in thunder do you think that anyone is going to call here to-night, and why do you want the revolvers?"
"Why did they call on Enright?" Blake asked. "Camora is as much in fear now of us as he was of him! He knows by this time that we have come back here, and he'll send his confederates after us without delay. We are no safer from him here than in the mountains. Hark! What was that?"
He crouched forward and listened. Footsteps were on the road. They came nearer, ascending the hill slowly, stopped, and passed on. Blake crept to the side of the road and looked out. Two men were climbing on past the Consulate, their figures dimly visible in the darkness. The hawk-eyed detective watched them till their figures receded in the distance; then he rejoined Tinker.
"A couple of farmers wending their way home," he explained. "We may have to wait a long time yet. I suppose the scoundrels won't come till they feel certain that we have retired for the night."
He sat down again, and began to smoke. The hours passed slowly, and Tinker, watching Blake, saw that he never relaxed his vigilance, that his confidence in no way waned during the long vigil, that his face remained bright and sanguine. And suddenly, as the lad was dropping off to sleep, he felt a strong hand upon his shoulder.
"Here they come!" Blake whispered softly.
"Look yonder!"
Tinker sat up at once, rubbed his eyes, and gazed where Blake pointed. The sight was enough to make the blood of the bravest run cold. Five masked figures were on the road, gazing over the wall at the Consulate. In the deceptive darkness they looked unnaturally tall. They were cloaked, high hats were on their heads, the upper parts of their faces were hidden. They stood about two feet away one from the other, and for some minutes they remained motionless. Then one after the other they vanished.
They came into sight again at the back of the Consulate one by one, and they stood silent once more. Then they moved forward. Creeping around the Consulate, crouching low, they looked like black shadows against the walls. Their movements were marvellously stealthy; like panthers they went round and round the building, the cloaks gathered tight around their chests. No blundering burglars these, but trained assassins, who for money would take human life as easily and as surely as the butcher slays an ox; men who would ask no questions, who had no feeling, no principle; members of one of the terrible Spanish vendettas, paid for the shedding of blood, as honest men claim fair wages for honourable toil. They were looking for their prey in the sole desire to earn their reward. They bore no malice to their victims; they cared not who they were.
Tinker felt almost mesmerised as he stared at them. They showed such utter callousness, such method, such diabolical caution, that the lad could only watch them with enthralling interest. At last they stopped. One stood against the wall, another climbed to his shoulders, a third went up this human ladder and mounted to a window-sill, close to the roof: There he sat for some moments till he had pushed back the catch with his dagger, and raised the window without the least perceptible noise; then he disappeared into the darkness of the room. He came back again in a few moments and lifted his hand. Two of his confederates climbed up to the window-sill as he had done; the three disappeared, and the other two waited outside.
"That's how they got in to poor Enright!" Blake murmured. "Well, it's very interesting! They have all sorts of dodges; in fact, they're trained in this villainy from childhood as if they were preparing for an honourable profession. No, my lad! Don't stir! Let them go on."
Tinker had jumped to his feet with his revolver grasped in his hand.
"You don't mean to let them escape?" he urged.
"If we shot the lot of them what would be the gain?" Blake asked lazily. "They could never do further mischief, it is true, but there are lots to take their place. Our lives would not be one whit the safer because the world was rid of them!"
"But you'll have a bang at them later on, then?"
"I don't want to be bothered with them!" Blake replied; and his tone was contemptuous. "I'm not anxious to bring them to justice. They are only tools. I want to catch the man who sent them here."
"Ah! I understand!"
The lad gazed admiringly at the great detective. Truly, the workings of that wonderful brain were not easy to fathom! By hard thinking and close reasoning, Blake had arrived at the conclusion that these hired bravoes were certain to come to the Consulate, and now, looking at the matter from the standpoint of actual fact, Tinker saw that that had been inevitable. Sooner or later, it might be that night, or it might not be for a week or two, Camora was bound, in the interests Of his own safety, to take steps to rid himself of Blake. And as Blake had returned to the Consulate, he could only attack him there. Yes, it was certain that the villain's hirelings would come, but only a man of extraordinary insight and forethought would have seen that so quickly and have been prepared.
And Blake had not stopped at preparations for safety when his analytical genius had deduced the workings of Camora's mind. As was always his way, he had gone farther than the great majority of men; not content with checkmating the scoundrel, he had at once asked himself how he could use the other's plot to his own advantage; how could he turn the tables upon him; how could he, by means of these hirelings sent for his destruction, track out the master rogue who had employed them?
No one was more quick to strike than he when occasion served; no one could play a waiting game so well; impulse never got the better of him; cool reason was always at his command, and this was one of the strongest instances in Tinker's experience. In the mountains Blake had been dangerous, but here in the quiet of Logona he was to be dreaded even more.
He sat now, a cool smile upon his face, fingering the bowl of his pipe, and gazing meditatively at the window through which the scoundrels had effected their entrance. Occasionally he looked at his watch. To Tinker the minutes dragged on slowly, but Blake, from his attitude, seemed to expect that their stay at the house would be prolonged. At last they reappeared as noiselessly as they had come. One got out on to the sill, another gripped his wrists and leant more than half-way out, held in this turn by those inside the room. The foremost desperado, now swinging to his full length, dropped lightly to the ground. Three others followed him this way, and the fifth closed the window before he climbed on to the shoulders of a man making the highest of the human ladder as they had formed it when effecting an entry. As noiselessly as shadows they all crept away.
Now Blake stood up, and whilst his manner up to this had been passive, his eagerness and energy from this on was startling. No sooner had they got on to the road, and their high hats bobbing up and down as they crept past the wall, had vanished, then he in his turn set to track them with a stealthiness equal to their own.
He went after them step by step, yard by yard, pausing, it seemed to Tinker, intuitively before, as often happened, they stopped and looked back; never losing sight of them, and never drawing too close. Thus he followed them into Logona, across the market-place, down a narrow street out of which they turned into a small square, and he saw them push open the door of a respectable house and pass in one by one.
"Now, Tinker! Got your revolver?" he asked briskly. "Our turn has come. Be ready for a fight."
He walked to the house and looked at it. That it had seen better days was evident, for it was built in the best style, though shabby and stained with age and neglect. Armorial bearings, faded and cracked, were over the doorway. Blake pointed to them, shrugged his shoulders, pushed the door open and entered the hall. In a room to the left voices were whispering. At the end of the hall were four steps leading down to a door at the back which was open.
"Stand here. Let no one escape this way," Blake directed. "Now I'm going to drive out the rats. Don't shoot at them unless they insist on coming for us."
He raised his revolver and pointed down the empty hall. "Surrender!" he thundered.
At the same moment he pulled the trigger, the revolver fired with a deafening report in that circumscribed area, and for a moment the hall was filled with smoke. A cry of terror arose in the room; they could hear the banging of furniture, the grating and rending of chairs and tables, wild clatter of feet, and hoarse shouts and counter cries. A man dashed out and ran towards the open door at the back. Another followed, and Blake fired over his head.
Two more rushed out of the room together, blocked shoulder to shoulder for a moment in the doorway. Seeing Blake they gave a hoarse cry and rushed, stumbling blindly along the hall. He fired again and a fifth dashed forth, and a sixth! But this last did not get far. With one bound Blake was on to him.
Grasping him by the shoulders he swung him round and flung him to the floor. He was on to him and holding him down next moment, despite his desperate struggles, and he shouted to Tinker.
"The handcuffs are in my pocket," he cried. "Pull them out and clap them on his wrists. That's right. Don't let him get his hand into his jacket. He's got a revolver there."
The prisoner was a powerful man and he fought furiously, kicking wildly; but Tinker dodged his legs and soon had the handcuff over his left wrist. Blake knelt on his right arm and dragged his left hand across his body. Click! The spring had shot home. Blake jumped to his feet.
"Get up!" he said.
The villain did not stir; his eyes were glittering. Blake caught him by the coat-collar and dragged him summarily out into the street. And there under the light of a lamp Tinker had a good look at him. The man was a Spaniard certainly; but there was nothing of a bandit about his garb. He was dressed in ordinary European clothes, and he looked as if accustomed to an indoor life.
"Who is he?" Tinker asked.
"Go for Tegada!" Blake replied. "He'll tell us."
There was a choked laugh in Blake's utterance. In baffled surprise Tinker broke into a run across the market-place to the police-station. He came hurrying back in ten minutes with the head constable and a couple of policemen at his heels. Blake was resting against the area railings smoking his pipe, and his prisoner still lay sulkily on the pavement. The police hurried forward.
"Seņor, what does this mean? What has happened?" Tegada began. "The young seņor has told me that you have arrested someone whom I know. And—"
"Look at him! Who is he?" Blake cut in.
Tegada bent down and gazed at the prostrate man. He arose to his full height, gasping.
"Hindi!" he cried. "What has he done? I know this man truly, seņor; he is most respectable. He—"
"Who is he?" Blake asked again.
"He is chief steward to the don," Tegada explained.
"To Don Conde Valdava?" Blake asked in a ringing voice.
"Of a truth he is, and highly valued by the don," Tegada went on in deep distress. He is most respected by all who know him, seņor. There must be some grave mistake. If the don hears of this outrage that has been perpetrated on his chief steward—"
"And this is the don's house, and those are his armorial bearings?" Blake continued in the same voice, whilst Tinker listened spellbound.
"Yes, that is the don's house, but he does not use it now as a residence," Tegada replied. "It is many years since the family were wont to come there in the winter. Those were the days when—"
"But he still owns it?"
"That is so. It is his office where he collects the rents from his Logona tenants, and listens to their complaints. But why does the seņor ask these questions? Meantime this worthy man is lying on the pavement, handcuffed like a criminal, insulted and ill-treated. I must release him at once, seņor. And I hope that the don will pardon this mistake. But I fear he will be greatly annoyed."
"He will be greatly annoyed!" Blake replied, stepping between Tegada and the steward. "But even so, you must not release that man. On the contrary, you will take him at once to the police-station and keep him securely under lock and key."
"To the police-station—as a prisoner!" Tegada raised his hands in horror. "Why, seņor? On what charge?"
"On the charge of conspiracy to murder," Blake said sternly. "I will be responsible! Take him away!"
WITH evident reluctance Tegada had led Tindi to the police-station, and Blake and Tinker had walked back to the Consulate. A pile of letters dealing with his business as Consul lay on the table, and with a sigh he sat down and began to open the envelopes rapidly. On the way back from the town he had not spoken once, and Tinker had been so astonished at the turn events had suddenly taken, that he had been glad to keep silent.
"Throw the window wide open, Tinker!" Blake said. "I want to hear who passes by. And now we must deal with this correspondence whilst we have the chance, for we leave Logona for the mountains again to-night. Dear me! How trivial all this seems when one has such gigantic work to hand as is our lot at present. Just take down this letter. The Malta and Mediterranean Steamship Company want to know if their vessel the Octagon can safely call here for coal?"
He began dictating replies rapidly, bringing to his task the method and accuracy of a thoroughly experienced business man, and by sheer force of his strong will concentrating all his attention on the routine work which at that moment was so dull and irksome in the highly-strung state of his nerves. For he was longing to get away. All that he had suspected had been proved to be true; much now had to be done, and done quickly, if the mystery of Enright's death was to be cleared up, if Sir Arthur Holmead's interests were to be safeguarded, and if Camora, the terror and despair of the Spanish Government, was to be captured.
And Blake knew that he alone could effect all this, that time was pressing, and that with only Tinker by his side he must risk all in the hope of succeeding where disaster had fallen on so many. Yet here at hand were the Consular duties first to be performed; anxious Britishers at all ends of the earth were waiting for his advice; so he dealt with these letters by the score as calmly and carefully as if no tremendous responsibility was resting on his broad shoulders.
They were done. With unconcealed relief he gathered the envelopes in big bundles and tossed them into the wastepaper basket; he threw the letters across to Tinker to index and file, and rising from his chair, he lit his pipe and stood on the hearthrug with brows puckered, and his hands thrust deep in his pockets. Once again he was the human sleuthhound, watchful, alert, ready to deal with the foe. In thought he was far away from Logona, among the wild mountain fastnesses, with darkness around, and the night wind stirring the leaves, and countless enemies lurking behind every tree, and bush, and stone.
"They're ready to sign, sir."
Tinker stood up and stretched his cramped fingers. Blake moved to the table and appended his name in bold, firm handwriting to the letters.
"That's a good job over!" he said. "Now we can get off again before long. And I don't think that any of these scoundrels will be inclined to pay another visit here."
"It wasn't Camora who sent them after all!" Tinker remarked as he dexterously inserted the letters into the envelopes. "They are in the pay of Don Conde Valdava. How in the world did you find out that, sir? I've been puzzling my brains to know how you got the clue."
"Yes, they are Valdava's hirelings," Blake agreed. "He finds me an awkward customer, I suppose, and he'd like to get rid of me. But instead of that I'm in a stronger position now than I was last night, and before long I hope— Ah! Here he comes!"
The clatter of horse hoofs had suddenly penetrated to the room, and Blake hurried out down the path and on to the road. A score of horsemen were riding briskly down the hill towards the town, and leading them was the don. A dark scowl came over his face as he recognised Blake; his eyes flashed fire, when reining up he addressed him. Blake was smiling.
"Good-morning, Don Conde Valdava!" Blake began.
"Mr. Blake, you returned my hospitality by great discourtesy," the don began sternly. I admitted you to my house and treated you as an honoured guest, and you left without bidding me adieu. When I went to your room to invite you to breakfast I found you were not there."
"And the window was open. I didn't even try to leave by the door," Blake replied, chuckling. "The fact is, don, the water in the moat looked so tempting that I thought I'd have a swim. But at what hour did you calL me? I thought it very unkind that you should have taken an early morning ride without me."
The don swayed for an instant in the saddle. A great crimson flush swept over his face and neck. For a moment he looked as if he would fall. But by a big effort he steadied himself, and now a steely light came into his eyes, as bending forward he looked down at Blake.
"You know that I took a ride that morning," he said. "I am afraid your curiosity will lead you into trouble before long."
"So far I feel that I owe my life to the fact that I am cautious when occasion needs," Blake replied. "Yes, I saw you leaving your castle that morning, but I did not see you afterwards."
The don drew his breath sharply.
"You are much interested in my movements," he remarked. "Is there any other news you can give me?"
"Why, yes," Blake said, watching closely the effect his words would produce. "His Majesty the 'King of Spain has been graciously pleased to interest himself in the case of Fostin, and I hope you will be able to help him with your advice. You are on your way now to take the train for Madrid, in order to present yourself at the Court. Is not that so? Pray pay my respects to his Majesty when you have the good fortune to see him!"
The don stifled an imprecation.
"Is it your doing, then, that his Majesty has summoned me?" he thundered.
"I think I can claim to have brought your name before his Majesty's notice quite recently," Blake laughed. "Surely you feel grateful to me for that?"
"You have all the insolence of your race," the don retorted warmly; "but we Spaniards do not permit any meddling with our business, as you will learn before long, if you don't desist. Your life in Logona won't be a very happy one, my British Consul, if' you don't confine your attentions to your own affairs."
"It has near been a very short one," Blake said in reply. "All Spaniards have not the courtesy to strangers that you have shown to me. Last night five of the most villainous scoundrels I ever saw, tried to compass my destruction."
"I am not surprised to hear it," the don said curtly.
"I know that," Blake replied; "but you will be surprised, I am sure, when you hear that these rascals had the impudence to use your house in Logona as their meeting-place."
The don clutched the reins and his face suddenly went white.
"What proof have you of that?" he asked hoarsely.
"Ample proof. This is not the time to reveal it," Blake replied. "I feel sure, don, that you would not like me to do anything that might frustrate the ends of justice, even though I seem to have lost your friendship for the moment. Farewell! You will be late for the train if you dally any longer, and, therefore, interesting as this conversation is, I fear we must cut it short. His Majesty never forgives those who do not present themselves to the moment at his Court. You and I will meet again before long, and then doubtless we will have plenty to say to one another."
The don bent forward. His eyes were glittering; his rigid mouth was open, showing his gleaming teeth.
We shall meet again, as you say. And then the final parting will come," he hissed in a whisper. "Ah! You cunning dog! You know much; but not quite enough. You will find out too late that you have met your match."
"All right! Good-bye, and a pleasant journey!" Blake said in his usual cheery way. "Take my tip and look a trifle less tragic when you meet the King. He's a fine young sportsman, and he hates to have gloomy chaps around him."
The don touched his horse sharply with the spurs, and the gallant animal sprang forward, his rider's face twitching with malice and vengeance. The cavalcade swept past the spot where Blake stood with a mocking smile on his lips,- and his dark, deepset eyes full of expressive merriment. He watched the horsemen till they swung past the corner, and then wheeling round he hurried into the Consulate.
"Now, I'll be ready in half an hour, my lad!" he said. "When the don leaves here by train' I'm going to wire to the King of Spain, asking him as a favour to keep him at the Court for three days, even if he begs for permission to leave. The don doesn't know that Tindi was arrested last night, and I delayed him purposely so that he'd have to hurry for the station and jump into the train without a moment's time to spare in which anyone could manage to speak to him. I am particularly anxious he should not know that Tindi is in my power, and I purposely got the young King to summon the don to Madrid, so that he will be out of the way when we get to the mountains. Everything has worked out excellently."
"But how could he interfere with us in the mountains?" Tinker asked. "It's Camora we have to dodge up there!"
"Oh, yes, Camora! Camora! Ha, ha, ha!" Blake agreed, laughing lightly. "But I'm going to the don's castle in his absence, Tinker! Do you know, the last time I was there, I made a very singular discovery."
"Why, I didn't think you had time to find out anything!" Tinker said. "And, besides, were you not with the don right up to the moment till you entered the bed-room?"
"Yes, that is so, but I wasn't long in the bed-room till I made the discovery," Blake answered. "It certainly is one of the most luxurious rooms I ever saw, but still I wouldn't care to be invited again to pass a night there. The floor is made of steel, and there's a trapdoor in the centre; the door has at least a dozen different bolts which shoot out automatically when it is closed, and it can only be opened from the outside; there are secret passages in the walls behind the pictures, and the top of the bed can be moved down from a pivot in the corridor."
"Great Scott!" Tinker gasped. "The room is a deathtrap!"
"That's exactly what it is!" Blake assented. "When these Spaniards take to villainy they are very thorough in their methods."
"And the don is a calculating scoundrel?"
"Oh, yes! People here have altogether a false idea of him! But they'll be surprised before long, or you and I will never leave this country! Now to send the telegram! And then to speed away!"
"PULL up! We will dismount here!"
Blake and Tinker were standing at the spot where they had beaten back Camora's bandits. It was midnight; the clouds had gathered overhead,and a drizzling mist was falling; down in the hollow were the group of sheds and huts where the workmen employed by Sparrow were sleeping after a hard day's toil. The two Britishers had travelled hard and fast, and now Blake meant to fall upon the villains.
He had thought out everything, and made the necessary preparations. Two mules, saddled and bridled, besides those bestrode by him and Tinker, were there; stout coils of rope were to hand. Both Britishers were fully armed. Having tethered the mules, he descended the hill towards the huts.
"Are you going to attack the lot of them?" Tinker asked, as he saw the grim, resolute lines on Blake's strong face. "Of course, if they're not armed—"
"No, my lad. There are at least fifty of them there, and, though I don't mind fairly long odds, that would be a bit more than I'd bargain for," Blake replied smilingly. "But I'm certainly going to catch Sparrow and Andrews to-night! I intend to use strategy, and even then we'll have as big a fight as you'll care for. It's a good job there's so much loose timber about."
"Why, what do you mean to do?"
"To burn them out!" Blake replied coolly. "They'll run like rats out of a trap if we don't arouse them too soon, so tread lightly. Get all the timber you can carry!"
As he spoke, he began to gather the dead branches lying around, and when he had made a huge bundle, he strapped it together with a rope, and swung it across his back. Advancing carefully, he strewed it around the nearest hut, and went back for more. Following his example Tinker set to work briskly, and for a full hour they toiled hard. At the end of that time all was ready; a dense pile of wood lay around each hut. Blake beckoned to Tinker to follow him, and selected a spot about twenty yards in front of the middle hut.
"Now I will explain what you are to do," he said, as he lay down, with his rifle grasped in his fingers. "Sparrow and Jenkins occupy that centre hut; I saw them coming out of it the other night. Here are a dozen faggots. I steeped them in kerosene before we left the Consulate. They'll blaze up as soon as you touch them with a lighted match.
"Yes, sir."
"You're to get round to the farthest hut. When there, light one of the faggots, and throw it on the brushwood. Then run to the next hut and do the same as quickly as you can, aid so on right along the line. A minute ought to be enough, and as soon as you have finished, run to the clump of trees at the right, and lie down with your rifle ready to fire if Sparrow or Andrews try to escape that way. Don't bother about the workmen; let them go. It will be best for us if they get into a panic and bolt right away. Leave the rest to me."
"All right, sir."
"Then cut along."
Tinker moved noiselessly away, and Blake, watching him, saw the first faggot spring into a blaze and fall on the brushwood. He chuckled as Tinker's lithe figure sprang from hut to hut. As the lad dropped the last faggot, smoke and flames were rising briskly round the first hut. The great detective waited eagerly. Soon the fires were blazing rapidly, columns of smoke were rising; at any moment now the crackling of the wood might give the alarm. He did not mean to wait for this; rather he intended that the panic should be as sudden as complete. Raising his rifle, he fired at the roofs of the huts, emptying the magazine of his rifle rapidly. And as quickly he filled it again from his bandolier.
The quick discharge of firearms, the crashing of the bullets through the huts, soon brought the sleepers, jumping half dazed from their rough couches. Shouting hoarsely, they rushed forward and flung open the doors, only to be half blinded by the swirling smoke. The red tongues of flame shot up before them, and bullets whistled around as Blake fired as quickly as he could load. They could see no one; they did not know from what direction the attack was coming. From the continued volley it seemed to them, in their terror, that a score of armed men were bent on their destruction. Out they tumbled through the smoke and flames, half blinded and wholly dazed, shouting hoarsely, running wildly, without a thought except to escape from the horror before and around them.
"Run! Run!" Blake thundered, as if agitated himself. "Every man for himself Clear out whilst you can!" They heard the voice; they took the advice. Away they dashed as Sparrow burst out of his hut, startled out of his wits by the uproar. A bullet went through his hat, another splashed on a stone at his feet. He turned and dashed for the clump of trees where Tinker lay awaiting him. From that direction a perfect hail of lead suddenly greeted him, and he doubled back and ran straight for Blake. As he drew near, the powerful detective jumped to his feet and brought him down, and Tinker still blazed away.
The workmen by this time had scattered in all directions. Whilst the panic still was on them, they would run headlong, but when up on the hill and away from the firing, they were certain to stop and look back. Meantime the smoke was rising in a great cloud, gathering in volume every moment, till it hung like a fog over the valley; the huts were burning, and the roar of flames was growing stronger; there were still just a few minutes for Blake to effect his purpose. Deftly and swiftly he gagged and bound Sparrow and then looked for Andrews. Tinker had made good use of his sharp eyes in those precious moments. Andrews had tried to rush him, and he had clubbed him as he passed.
Blake seized Sparrow and dragged him swiftly trailing along the ground to the clump of trees. There he bound Andrews, who was still unconscious, and Tinker hauled him, after Blake and Sparrow, out of the valley to the hillside. They first carried Sparrow up the hill, and strapped him to a mule; they were staggering along with Andrews, when shouts announced that the scared workmen had suspected some trick.
"Get him along!" Blake panted. "Those fellows will be swarming back soon now, and they'll be enraged when they know for certain what has happened."
They pulled the scoundrel up the hill, and threw him across the mule. Vaulting into their saddles, they rode away without even looking back, and Blake took a path in the opposite direction to the one in which they had come. The shouts in the distance became feebler; attack from the workmen was not now to be apprehended, and Tinker began to chuckle. But Blake turned and shook his head. The great detective's face was still tense, and he was hurrying without respite. They travelled on for a couple of miles, and then Blake reined up and listened anxiously.
Nearer and nearer came the thud of galloping horses.
"As I feared!" he murmured. "Camora's gang heard the firing, and raced to the huts! They know we've captured this villain, Sparrow, and they are after us! It will go hard with us now, but we may still have time to escape. Anyhow, I had to take that risk. We could never have succeeded if we had not scared those fellows thoroughly. Keep jogging on. As long as we are in cover, they won't find us."
They pushed on; a wild gleam of hope had sprung into Sparrow's eyes, and it was well he could not cry for help. Andrews had recovered consciousness, and had been gagged, too. The galloping bandits came nearer, then swung away to the left, then came racing back again. Blake, grasping his rifle, jumped down.
"I'm going up that hill!" he explained. "When I get to the top, I'll have a few shots at them and take them in that direction. Once they start to follow, as they're certain to do, you get across yonder plain with these scoundrels as quick as you can. When you get into the far wood, push on straight. I'll join you as soon as I've drawn the bandits off this track."
He started off. Tinker, waiting anxiously, heard a sharp fusillade in a couple of minutes. It died away, and began again with renewed vigour, and he set out across the plain. He crossed it safely, fearing every moment that he might be detected; but the rifle-shots still continued, and answering ones assured him that the bandits were climbing the hill under Blake's fire. The lad got into the wood and held on his way.
And now far behind, the firing began once more, in tremendous volume, and he knew the tables were turned, that Blake was fleeing for his life, that he had been seen, and that the bandits were in hot pursuit. Tinker never feared for himself, but fear for Blake gripped his heart at this moment as he urged the mules along. Now the firing was to the left, now it drifted to the right; now it grew nearer, now it drew away. Blake was giving the scoundrels a hard run; he was dodging and twisting, in order to keep them concentrated on him, whilst Tinker should get off with his captives; but would his daring venture end safely? Could he hope to escape?
Tinker, with these thoughts agitating him desperately, kept grimly at his task. He got out of the wood, came to a stone-strewn plain with a mountain on one side that he recognised, and hope came to him. He was near to the cave which Blake had selected as their last hiding-place if hard pressed. The shrewd detective's foresight had not been in vain; now in the moment of need the hiding-place was ready if only he could reach it. He had no doubt now why Blake was manoeuvring behind; he, too, had remembered the cave, and was keeping the bandits away from it at the risk of his life. Once there they could defy them.
He got to the foot of the cliff at last. As he could not possibly haul Sparrow and Andrews up to the cave without Blake's assistance, he led the mules round to the side, and waited. An hour passed. A second went by. Long since, the firing had ceased; all sounds had died away—there was no sign of the bandits. But where was Blake? The delay was ominous, and the suspense was agonising. Was he lying on the plain, a victim to the bandits' brutality? Why did he not come? Tinker tramped up and down before his captives in an agitation he could not conceal, longing to dash away and search frantically for his gallant comrade, and knowing that duty kept him to the spot where he was. At last, exhausted with apprehension, he sat down and covered his face, and yielded to the most gloomy forebodings.
"Tinker!"
He jumped to his feet. Blake, pallid, weary, and with clothes torn and muddy, had pushed aside the brambles, and was standing before him.
"Are you hurt?" Tinker asked. "Did they wound you? Anyhow, you're here now, and—"
"I'm dead fagged, my lad, that's all!" Blake said. "They shot my mule, and I had several close shaves, but I eluded them. be glad of a rest when I can get one. Bring those fellows along; we've work to do yet."
They led Sparrow and Andrews round to the front of the cliff, bound the end of a long rope round each of them in turn and hauled them up to the cave. In his weary state, this last job was one of tremendous difficulty to Blake; but though the veins stood out on his forehead with the exertion, and the perspiration poured down his face, he stuck to it grimly till he succeeded. Then he sank upon the hard stones.
Tinker lit a fire, brewed a can of tea, got out some provisions, and urged him to take a meal. He gradually revived, and when the lad saw him fumbling in his pocket for his pipe, he knew that he was beginning to feel himself again. Presently he spoke.
"I'm going to have a sleep," he said. "We can do no more before morning, and once daylight comes we must remain hidden. I had hoped to push on to-night, but Camora's gang upset my plans. You keep a sharp watch, Tinker, and awake me if you suspect any danger"
He lay down, and soon his deep breathing told the lad that for the time he had forgotten his responsibilities and dangers. Tinker, sitting at the edge of the cave, saw the grey streaks of dawn changing to the pink hue of sunrise, and he was still there, and the sun was rising to the meridian when Blake awoke. He jumped to his feet, glanced at Sparrow, and remembered all.
"Ah, I'm as fit as a fiddle again!" he said heartily. "It's your turn now, Tinker, to have a snooze. But first we'll have breakfast and a chat with our interesting friends yonder. They don't look happy, do they?"
BLAKE, sitting on a wooden box, faced Sparrow and Andrews. In his right hand was a revolver. The two scoundrels, leaning with their backs against the wall were trembling with rage and fear. The gags had been removed, but they were still bound hand and foot.
"Dare to cry out and give the alarm, and I will shoot you like dogs without a moment's hesitation!" Blake began. "And now I am going to ask you some questions, and I warn you first that the treatment I will accord you from this on will depend upon the truthfulness of your replies. If you refuse to speak, or if you lie to me, I will show you no mercy! You, Theodore Z. Sparrow, are the greater scoundrel of the twain! It is you who organised this villainy! How was it you thought of it?"
Sparrow blinked.
"I knew of the company Sir Arthur Holmead was forming in the City of London," he replied. "It's my business to pick up what information I can, and a friend told me about it."
"I know your kind of business," Blake replied contemptuously. "You're a tout, and you pry into the affairs of honest men, and often ruin a good company, unless you are paid blackmail. You are one of those pests that are always hovering about the City with bogus concessions and bogus properties for sale. I quite believe what you say so far. You got this information from a dishonest clerk in Sir Arthur Holmead's employment, most likely. Now, how did you get in touch with Don Conde Valdava?"
"I don't see what that has to do with the business?" Sparrow retorted sulkily. His fat face had flushed crimson under Blake's scornful words.
"I know more about Valdava than you think," Blake suggested, with a dry smile. "This may be a hanging matter for you, my friend, if I push things to extremes. I think you'd better answer."
Sparrow's face went swiftly pallid.
"What do you know about Valdava?" he asked tremblingly.
"Nothing good," Blake said curtly. "How did you meet him?"
"A chap in the City knew him."
"Oh! How was that?"
Sparrow hesitated.
"I may as well own up. I see you've got on to hard facts," he said gruffly, "Valdava sends his money there." Blake smiled.
"So that's the explanation?" he said. "Valdava is so poor that he has to borrow money in Logona, which he can't repay, and yet he is able to send his savings to London! Do you know I'm not surprised to hear that, for, despite all that he has said to me, I know that he is immensely wealthy."
"And you know how he has made his money?" Sparrow suggested, blinking furiously.
"Yes. So he has friends in London—eh? Who are they?"
"Moneylenders," Sparrow replied.
"All right. I'll deal with them when the right time comes. You know these men, and you suggested to them that Valdava might make the price of the concession twice over, if he threw difficulties in Sir Arthur Holmead's way and sold again to you?"
"I don't deny it. The game is up."
"And Valdava agreed, and you sent Andrews out here?"
"I did."
"Why didn't he get to work at once?"
"Because there was a hitch. Some of my crew turned rusty; they were too greedy. I had to look out for other chaps with enough money to start the work, and so Andrews, when he got here, was penniless, and he thought the best thing he could do was to go into the asylum, where he could be housed and lodged until I came."
"All right. I have found out what I wanted to know," Blake said, his eyes shining. "I am going to leave you two scoundrels here to-night, and, on my return, I will take you to Logona and ship you to London to the police there. As you have told me the truth on this occasion, you will only stand your trial on the charge of defrauding Sir Arthur Holmead, whatever will be in store for Valdava, whose accomplice you have been. Have a snooze now, Tinker. I will call you when it is time to start."
It was dark when Blake and Tinker again sallied forth, mounted their mules, and rode away. This time they struck off in the direction of Valdava's castle, and reached it without meeting the bandits. On the journey Tinker noticed that Blake rode without the caution he had shown on previous occasions.
"You don't think we're likely to meet Camora to-night?" he asked. "You know where he's hiding, sir?"
"Oh, yes; I've a very goad idea where he is!" Blake replied. "As long as we don't fire or make a big row we're not likely to bring his rascals around us. Now, my, lad, there's the castle. We're going to enter it somehow.
"What do you expect to find there, sir? Incriminating papers, I suppose? Now that Valdava is away -"
"I hope to find Fostin in a dungeon there," Blake interjected.
"Fostin!"
"Yes. That's the reason I wired to the King of Spain to keep Valdava in Madrid. We must get round to the front door. There is no chance of entering the castle otherwise. And now we must use strategy again, my lad. Do you see yonder bush close to the door? All right. You are to crouch down behind that whilst I knock. When it is opened I will undertake to lead the butler down the avenue for some distance, engaging him in conversation as we stroll along, and, whilst his back is turned, you are to slip into the hall and hide as best you can. When he has gone to bed again, do you open the door to me when I rap with my knuckles. Then we will begin the search for Fostin."
Tinker hurried to the bush, and Blake knocked loudly and imperiously at the door. He had to wait a considerable time. Now that Valdava was away, the servants had gone to bed early and were loth to be disturbed. Blake kept plying the knocker, and at last it was answered. Tinker saw him talking to the butler. He noticed that the man suddenly started and addressed Blake anxiously. After some hurried conversation the two walked down the avenue. Tinker slipped through the doorway into the dark hall, and stretched himself at full length under a settee at one side. After some minutes the butler hurried back, locked and bolted-the door, and tramped down a corridor, muttering as he went. A door in the distance banged loudly. Then all was silence.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Tinker arose and crept noiselessly to the door. He opened it carefully, and Blake slipped in. His electric lamp was in his hand. They locked the door, and, bidding Tinker keep watch in the hall, the intrepid detective went swiftly up the wide, oaken staircase. He was only away a few minutes. Then Tinker saw by the tiny beam of light from the pocket-lamp the tall figure of Blake descending the stairs. He was carrying a parcel in his hand. Beckoning to Tinker to follow, he went along the passage and opened the door through which the butler had passed on his way to bed. Now they were in a stone corridor, with rooms on either side, and they could hear the deep breathing of heavy sleepers. They got to the head of a winding flight of stone steps, and went down it, reaching at the other end another passage, where he air was foetid and the walls were damp. Five heavy iron doors were open, disclosing small dungeons; a sixth door was closed. Blake pulled a rusty but strong bar, and put his shoulder to the door.
There was a rustle of straw as if some animal had been disturbed, and, as the beam of light travelled round the dungeon, Tinker gave a start.
On a small pile of straw a man was lying. The growth of many days' beard was on his chin, his eyes were dull and sunken, his figure was emaciated, his hair was matted; he looked in an advanced stage of exhaustion. He raised himself painfully on his elbow, pushed the tangled locks from his brow, and stared. Then he held out a thin hand.
"Fostin!" Tinker murmured.
Yes; it was Fostin, the honest British merchant, who had never wronged any man, who had befriended Valdava, and who now was a prisoner in a dungeon, half starved, neglected, and shamefully kidnapped. His face told only too tragically the agony of mind and the physical suffering he had been so outrageously subjected to. Blake pulled him to his feet and held him, for he could not stand without support.
"We have come to release you, but we are all in great danger, so we must be careful," he whispered. "You would know the men who attacked and kidnapped you, I hope? You will have to identify them?"
Fostin was trembling. He could not speak, so great was the change of feeling that swept over him at the thought of liberty once more. He only nodded, and held on to Blake as if in fear that he might go.
"All right. Then we'd better start," Blake said. "Walk as steadily as you can; don't stumble on the stairs. We have to pass the room where some of these scoundrels are asleep, and if— Hist! What was that?"
He turned swiftly. Away in the distance a deep-throated murmur of conversation had begun. Was it fancy, or did he hear the rasp of steel and the rattle of rifles being pulled from a stand? He stepped to the corridor and listened intently. Men were awake, that was certain. They were moving overhead. They had taken alarm. He turned and closed the door.
"Quick! We can't get out through the hall! They are mustering together. They guess that something is amiss," he said hoarsely. "Tinker, hold on to Fostin! Our only chance is by the moat!"
He sprang to the small window. Two bars were there, both old and rusty, but still seemingly strong. He pulled at one with all his strength, but could not move it. Drawing a file from his pocket, he began to use it, and the grating sound rasped harshly. How long would it be before the awakened villains would hear the noise—before they would know that their prisoner was trying to escape, and rush down to fall upon him? Still, Blake knew he must go on. It was the last hope left to them. No; there was just one other if all else failed. Working desperately with his hands, his nimble brains were, at the same time, feverishly engaged in devising some means of defence. if they were attacked, and he remembered that the corridor outside was narrow, and recollected the sharp angle at the foot of the stairs. That might be useful in extremities.
The file was winning. It was gradually eating its way through the rusty iron. In a few minutes they could escape. He kept on, pausing for a moment only occasionally to listen, with senses on the rack, to the sounds above. Now he could almost snap the bar. Once again he filed desperately. But hark! A shout went up; a hoarse cry; a call for aid. He could hear the clatter of feet, exulting yells, mocking laughter, the tramp of many.
"Tinker! Go on!" he cried, pushing the file into the lad's hand, and whipping out his revolver as he sprang to the door. "Get the bar away, and push Fostin into the moat and swim across with him. I will do all I can to keep these villains at bay till he is safe."
He shot a swift glance along the passage and raised his revolver. Yes; he had been right. Only one man could swing into sight round the corner at a time. He heard the harsh clatter on the stone steps; a figure jumped forward, and a bullet from those steady fingers brought him to the flags.
Bang! Bang!
Two more tumbled over the first, both yelling with pain and fury; and another villain came for a moment round the corner, but fell back to avoid the shot. There was a pause. Then those up on the stairs pushed on those in front; and a fourth, unable to keep back, made a rush towards Blake. Again Blake's shot went home.
"Your revolver, Tinker!" he cried. "Mine will soon be empty."
He felt it pressed into his left hand, and again the rasping of the file began. But he had not to fire again. There was a lull on the stairs. The scoundrels were not only dismayed, they were marvelling how Fostin could have obtained such powerful assistance, how anyone could have entered the castle secretly; they were wondering how many were below!
Blake with revolver raised and eyes steady, and figure crouched, heard Tinker's voice.
"The bar is out! Come on, Fostin! Up you go!"
Splash! A pause. Another splash!
Blake crept on tiptoe along the corridor. A man on his back with face upturned, and eyes closed, was lying slightly in advance of the others. Blake looked down at him, searched his pockets swiftly, and took a muffler from around his neck. He crept back to the dungeon door and listened again. Up at the top of the stairs, possibly in the hall, hoarse voices were wrangling. Clearly amongst the gang, there were those who hesitated to try further conclusions with him, and those who were still anxious to fight. Now was the moment to get away whilst they were between two minds. Picking up the bundle he had obtained upstairs, he crossed to the dungeon window, and jumped into the moat. A few powerful strokes took him to the far side, and as he climbed to the bank, he saw Tinker and Fostin disappearing into a clump of trees. He ran to join them.
They got to the spot where they had tethered the mules, and placing Fostin on his, Blake took the bridle and led the way on foot. Without further adventure they reached the cave, and after a good meal—the first he had tasted for many days—the unfortunate British merchant lay down on the most comfortable bed Tinker could form from branches and rugs. He awoke at mid-day to see Blake making preparations for the return journey to Logona, and thanked him in burning words of gratitude for his gallant rescue. And amazement came into his eyes as he saw Sparrow and Andrews lying bound together.
"Who are these men?" he asked. "Are they your prisoners?"
"Yes; they were accomplices of Valdava!" Blake exclaimed. "And now, Fostin, you might tell us shortly what happened to you since the time you parted with me at the Consulate. You were set upon on your way back to the town, and Tinker came to your assistance, but he was unable to save you."
"I'll tell you what occurred, but the meaning of a good deal of it is a puzzle to me," Fostin replied. "Perhaps, though, you will be able to explain what I don't understand."
"All right! Fire away!" Blake said, as he loaded his pipe.
FOSTIN rubbed his forehead with his hand as if he had difficulty in collecting his thoughts after his terrible experiences.
"I didn't anticipate an attack of any sort. I'd got no warning, no threatening letters, or hints of danger, and I was completely taken by surprise when several Spaniards sauntering up the road, suddenly sprang at me, and knocked me down," he began. "I hadn't much time to think then, I can tell you, or to wonder what it meant. I believed they had set upon me for the sake of robbery, and I fought as hard as I could. I saw your young assistant—Tinker—yonder, and I'd like to say now how grateful I am to him for risking his life on my behalf the way he did."
"Oh, that's all right!" Tinker said quickly.
"He was very near death," Fostin went on; "but it was only after he got away that I realised that the attack on me was the outcome of a deliberate plot. A man came driving a chaise and pair briskly towards us, and instead of helping me he jumped to the ground, and went to the horses' heads. I was gagged and bound by this time, and the scoundrels lifted me up, and threw me into the chaise. Then I knew they meant to kidnap me."
"Yes. Go on!"
"They jumped into the chaise, and drove up the hill rapidly, taking the first turn to the left. It led away towards the mountains, and they travelled swiftly for a couple of hours, till we came to a small hut where a dozen horsemen were waiting. I was put on a horse, the cavalcade closed round me, and we galloped away."
"The men who had attacked you on the road did not go farther?"
"No! When last I saw them they were standing in a group looking after us." -
"That bears out what I have thought all along," Blake said gravely. "Camora has confederates in the town, and the men who attacked you were those who killed poor Enright, and who subsequently tried to destroy Tinker and myself. But you know nothing of that last incident; it occurred after your capture. The story will keep till another time. Well, what next took place?"
"Camora! These scoundrels were not in the pay of Camora! " Fostin said. "That is what has been puzzling me! When the cavalcade made for the mountains I felt certain that Camora had plotted to kidnap me and hold me to ransom, and I understood him doing that, for I have the reputation of being wealthier than I really am. But after travelling a long time they came to Valdava's castle, late at night, and I was never so astonished in my life as when they coolly rode up the avenue, and stopped at the door."
Blake smiled.
"Valdava gave you a very friendly greeting, I suppose?' he suggested.
A spasm went over Fostin's face.
"The cur!" he said. "They took me into his study, and he had a revolver in his hand, which he held all the time. He told the miscreants to leave the room as he was well able to protect himself, and when I demanded what was the meaning of this outrage, he only laughed. He didn't mince matters, either! He told me that I was his prisoner, and that I would never regain my freedom unless I agreed to his terms. I was astounded, as you may well believe. I asked him to explain, and he said I held securities over him to the tune of six thousand pounds, that I must forgo payment and give him another four thousand in hard cash, or he would fling me into a dungeon out of which escape would be impossible. Of course I refused. I was boiling with rage, and told him plainly what I thought, and he only laughed again. I warned him that I was a British subject."
"And how did he take that?" Blake asked.
"He shrugged his shoulders, and said I was in Spain now, not in England, that no one could help me, that Camora was all powerful in that district, as I knew, and that everyone would think that Camora had captured me. He said that if even an army scoured the country to find me, they would never think of searching the castle, so high was his character for honour and integrity."
"That was very smart!" Blake murmured.
"Well, you didn't consent to be despoiled—eh?"
"No, not likely! I defied him to do his worst, and when he saw that I would not yield, he vowed that he'd take steps to shake my resolution. He ordered me to be thrown into a dungeon, and gradually starved to submission."
"And did he ever see you after that?"
"Never! But day by day they reduced my rations, until at the end I got nothing but a crust of bread and a cup of water every twenty-four hours, and every time the gaolers came they treated me more roughly, until at last I felt I couldn't suffer much more, and—"
He stopped and groaned at the dreadful recollection.
"Oh, well, it's all over now!" Blake said, jumping to his feet, and laying a kindly hand on the unfortunate merchant's shoulder. Think no more about it, Fostin Look to the future, and forget the past! You are free again with plenty of years of happiness before you, and you will get back the money Valdava owes you. I promise you that."
"I'll get it back?"
"Yes; every shilling of it! Now we'd better be stirring. We have a long journey back to Logona, and I want to start during daylight, and get well away from this neighbourhood before dark. Tinker, saddle the mules. Yes, we're all going together. Three of us will be armed, so we can put up a good fight if necessary, but I don't anticipate hostility."
Blake's prophecy came true. They reached Logona without molestation, and on the way he did not even take the precautions he had adopted on previous occasions, but rode swiftly and openly. It was early morning when they drew near to the town, and they reached the Consulate without attracting attention. Having lodged Sparrow and Andrews there, with Tinker mounting guard over them, Blake asked Fostin to accompany him into the town. The market-place was filling as they reached it, the shutters were being taken from the shop windows, another day's work had begun. Blake went at once to the police-station, and requested the services of a policeman from Tegada.
Tegada beckoned to a stalwart young policeman lolling in a corner of the room.
"Segni, go with these gentlemen, and obey the British Consul's instructions!" he directed. Mr. Blake, this man is at your services for as long as you need him. You've beaten Camora! After that I can do nothing but fall in with your views, whatever they may be. I am filled with wonder and admiration! Sir, I salute you!"
He brought his hand to his cap, and stood to attention. Blake laughed, and wheeling round, he tramped out of the police-station. And now he began to saunter round the market-place, as if only taking a morning stroll, his mind engaged in pleasant reveries. But through half-closed eyelids nothing escaped him. He saw all the children romping on the kerb. He saw every market woman hurrying past with her basket on her arm; he saw a petty theft from a cart which no one else noticed. There was not a face he did not scan closely for all his preoccupied air. And suddenly, to Fostin's surprise, his figure shot up straight, his eyes flashed: and he sprang into the centre of a body of loafers, scattering them on all sides. Clutching a man in a cloak by the throat, he whistled shrilly.
The man struggled to escape, but in that powerful grip his efforts seemed puny. Blake swung him off his legs as easily as if he were a boy, and thrust him against the wall. Segni ran forward, and the crowd fell back.
Take him to the police-station!" Blake said, releasing his prisoner. "I will speak to him there! Come on, Fostin, I think you recognise that man?"
Fostin looked intently at the trembling wretch.
"I do!" he murmured. "He was the leader of the gang that attacked me. But I never saw him in the crowd! However did you spot him?"
"It's my business to remember faces!" Blake answered quietly. "I have seen him, too! I got a good glimpse of him as he turned and stared at me that night when he was dashing out of Valdava's house in this town when Tinker and I went to catch another scoundrel. Come on! If we join the constable the crowd will be slow to attack him."
They all entered the police-station, and Blake walked up and gazed sternly at the Spaniard. Under that piercing glance the coward quailed.
"Will you confess?" Blake said, after a long pause.
So solemn was his voice, so full of hidden meaning, that Tegada caught his breath. Some inner consciousness told his trained detective mind that he was on the verge of a tragic discovery.
"Will you confess?"
Blake's sonorous voice rang through the room again.
The Spaniard shook like a leaf, but still he did not answer. The look on his face was awful. He was staring at Blake with a pleading that would have been heartrending in the eyes of a dumb and stricken animal. He was caught, that was evident. But to what extent? Horrors were on his conscience, but of how many was this terrifying Britisher with the magnetic eyes aware? Did he know the worst?"
Blake read his thoughts. He turned and whispered briefly to Tegada, and the latter left the room. In a few moments the jangling of chains could be heard down the corridor. Then the prisoner gave a cry. For, standing in the doorway, manacled and a shadow of his former self through mental agony, was Tindi, the chief steward of Valdava, the man whom Blake had caught and handed over to Tegada. The new prisoner staggered, and fell on his knees before Blake, clasping his hands together.
"I will confess!" he wailed. "I will tell all!"
"Get pen and ink," Blake directed. "We will take down this man's evidence. And now, Tegada, you will hear all that you want to know. You will listen to such a story as you have never heard. You will be struck dumb with horror at what is about to be revealed. Romaldo, get up on your feet and play the man. I know that you are not the worst."
IT was an hour later. Romaldo's confession had been taken down, and the criminal himself had been removed to the cells. Blake, Fostin, and Tegada were standing in a group. The head-constable was breathing heavily; never in his life had he experienced such a shock. Outside in the market-place the whirl of life was at full swing; gay, innocent laughter came floating on the gentle breeze in through the open windows.
"Terrible!" Tegada gasped. "Seņor, I am quite unstrung. For years now we have thought it hopeless to—Hark! What is that?"
He pushed forward, regaining his trained briskness and energy at the call of duty. Someone was struggling with the police on duty at the door. Next moment Tinker dashed into the station.
"Mr. Blake, you're to come at once!" he cried. "A special train, with steam up, is waiting at the station!"
The lad held a telegram in his hand, which Blake seized and read swiftly. He did not evince the surprise which Fostin and Tegada showed at Tinker's statement; in fact, he seemed almost to have been expecting something of the sort. A smile was playing around the corners of his mouth as he folded the telegram.
"The King of Spain has sent for me. I must hurry to Madrid," he explained. "Fostin, you had better go on to the train with Tinker. Tegada, I have to go back to the Consulate. Come with me, and I will hand over Sparrow and Andrews to your custody. I sha'n't be long, Tinker. Order luncheon to be served on the train."
Twenty minutes later the train glided out of the station, and rocked across the country on its way to Madrid. Blake and his companions were enjoying the luxury of a magnificently-appointed saloon carriage. All traffic on the way had been side-switched to enable them to complete the journey without a moment's unnecessary delay.
When, late that evening, the train reached Madrid, a Royal carriage was awaiting the travellers, a squad of police was stationed on the platform, and half a score of the castle officials were grouped together on the spot where Blake would alight. As he stepped off the train, followed by Tinker and Fostin, a dignified gentleman in uniform moved forward and saluted him courteously.
"Mr. Sexton Blake?" he inquired.
"Yes."
"His Majesty commanded me to meet you and escort you to the palace. Will you kindly follow me? My name is Count Guardola."
He led the way to the carriage, and took a seat with Blake and the others. The horses sprang forward, and the carriage rolled out into the quaint, historic streets of old Madrid. At a fast pace they rattled through the bustling thoroughfares to the world-famous home of the monarchs of Spain. Guardola frequently gazed anxiously and curiously at Blake.
"His Majesty seems to have formed a desire to see me very suddenly?" Blake suggested, as they drove along. Guardola nodded.
"Yes. I have seldom seen his Majesty so agitated. I do not know what reception awaits you, Mr. Blake. Truth to tell, I am uneasy in my mind on that score. And another thing. His Majesty only sent for you. I do not know if he will be pleased when he hears that these gentlemen have accompanied you."
"When we meet he will not bother much about Court etiquette," Blake replied quietly. "My friends are most essential, if the interview is to be concerning the subject I anticipate. Ah, there is the palace! What a beautiful effect the moonlight gives it!"
He looked at the hoary pile with the admiration of the true artist, and he even stood for some seconds to get a fuller view when the carriage had rolled into the courtyard and they all had alighted. The count was nervously anxious to take him to the Royal presence; Blake was as cool and indifferent as if nothing momentous was at stake. At last he turned and followed Guardola in through a wide hall, where a score of braided lackeys were lined on either side. They passed up a gorgeous staircase, entered a suite of rooms, one leading to the other, and stopped in a good-sized, comfortably-furnished library.
"This is his Majesty's private study. He directed that you should be taken here," Guardola explained. "I will now tell him of your arrival."
Hardly had the count left the room when the door was flung open, and the young King hurried in, unattended. His bright, boyish face was flushed. As he looked at Blake an expression of pain shot across his mobile features. He did not offer his hand to the great detective, but bowed with frank dignity.
"Mr. Blake," he began, speaking hurriedly, "my wife, the Queen, as you know, is British, one of your Royal family, and I love Britain best of every country after my own, and I know you, and have always entertained the most friendly feelings for you. All this makes very awkward what I have to say. Don Conde Valdava is here as a guest, and he has lodged a complaint against you of which I must take notice. He says you have deliberately affronted him."
"And you have sent for me, your Majesty, because you love fair play, and, therefore, you want to hear what I have to say before forming a judgment on the matter between us?" Blake suggested. "For that I thank you. Also I am glad to hear that the don is in Madrid still. I should like to meet him face to face."
The young King walked impatiently to the bell.
"Then, so let it be!" he said. "But understand, I will have no violence in my presence. Don Conde Valdava is a very high-spirited gentleman. When his honour is touched, he is quick to grasp his sword. Ha! Ask the don to step this way."
The aide-de-camp who had answered the summons bowed and withdrew, and Valdava presently walked into the room. His face was a trifle pallid, but a derisive smile was on his lips. Blake had sauntered towards the door, and they looked at one another.
For the moment the air seemed charged with electricity. All watched them tensely. Valdava moved on, and Blake got closer to the door. The don was bowing to the monarch. "Now, Mr. Blake!" the King began.
"One moment, your Majesty," Blake said, in his sonorous voice. "Don Conde Valdava does not seem to recognise his best friends."
The don looked round the room. For the first time he caught sight of Fostin, who had been standing close to a window. His eyes quailed, his face went haggard, his mouth twitched in a horrible grimace, he staggered back. The King stared at him.
"Are you ill, Don?" he asked.
Valdava steadied himself. Certainly his courage was superb. He bowed to Fostin distantly.
"A sudden spasm, your Majesty. They come upon me unexpectedly," he replied, his voice growing stronger every moment. "It is nothing. It has passed away. Yes; I know this man we have met before."
"Once too often!" Fostin said, shaking with indignation, and moving forward. "Your Majesty, that man is a scoundrel. I claim justice from you!"
"Who are you, sir?" the King rapped out sharply.
"A British merchant, who lent that villain six thousand pounds!" Fostin replied boldly. "I am a man whom he has robbed, and whom he has tried to starve to death."
"It is false!" Valdava scoffed.
"It is true!" Blake thundered, intervening, and moving forward. "It can be proved! I rescued this man last night from a dungeon in Valdava's castle! It was to get Valdava away so that I could do that, that I wired to your Majesty to summon him here."
"Mr. Blake, do you know what you are saying?" the King protested warmly.
"Ay, I do know, and the time has come for me to speak!" Blake replied, his eyes shining like stars. "I charge that man with such villainy as your Majesty never heard of before, and every charge I make I will substantiate here and now. I accuse him of roguery; I assert that he is no gentleman! He sold a concession to Sir Arthur Holmead, and, later on, he resold it to other people."
"Prove it!" Valdava shouted.
"The proof is easily ascertained. Do you deny it?"
"Listen to me, your Majesty!" Valdava began, moistening his dry lips. "I did sell a concession to this British gentleman, but I was unable to protect the property. Camora, the bandit, has always prevented me."
"Was that any reason why you should sell it to Sparrow?" Blake demanded. "Was it right that you should protect this rascal, Sparrow? How came it that he was able to engage a baud of workmen, to erect machinery, and make a start?"
"This is nonsense!"
"No, it is not nonsense!" Blake replied with scorn. "Sparrow is arrested, and is at this moment under lock and key in Logona. I caught him and dragged him from your mountain fastnesses."
The King had been listening eagerly. His face had changed. No man ever looked at Blake and doubted his word.
"You say this man Sparrow is under arrest?" he asked.
"Yes, your Majesty, Blake went on. "And he admits all. He will confess all."
"Don Conde Valdava, what have you to say?"
"That it is false, your Majesty!"
"Your face does not bear the stamp of conviction."
"Look at him as I make my next statement," Blake said.
"Tindi, his chief steward, has been arrested, too. I caught him in the don's house, in Logona, conspiring with a lot of villains who, an hour before, had tried to take my life.
Valdava staggered back.
"And more still," Blake continued. "Romaldo has confessed all. Don Conde Valdava, I charge you with the murder of the British Consul, Mr. Enright!"
"It's a base lie! Listen, your Majesty!" Valdava began desperately. "On my honour—"
"Go on, Mr. Blake!" the King said icily, "Is this all? Why should this man commit such a crime?"
"Because Enright knew too much about Camora!"
"What did he know?"
Blake looked long and steadily at the don and the King. "He knew that Camora and Don Conde Valdava were one and the same!"
There was a cry! Then Valdava sprang with drawn sword at Blake. But the powerful detective was not taken aback. He was watching and ready. Bending slightly, he caught the villain's wrist and hurled him on his back, and the sword clattered to the far end of the room. There he lay on the floor, disarmed, his head buried in his hands.
The King, white to the lips, moved forward, and laid his hand on Blake's arm. The young monarch was trembling.
"Good heavens," he gasped, "can this be true? Is this man really Camora, the most notorious brigand of modern times?"
"Yes, it is true," Blake said gravely. "Here is one proof." And he opened the bundle. "Only last night I effected an entrance into Valdava's castle, and I found this!"
He took up a wig of loose hair and a grey beard.
"Camora was wearing these when he attacked me," he said. "That morning I saw Valdava leaving his castle secretly and riding in the direction in which the bandits subsequently appeared. He was riding a grey horse; so was Camora. I noticed one hoof-print of Valdava's horse, it was curiously ill-formed; so was the hoof-print of Camora's horse, which I saw after I had shot it.
"Valdava, confess! Are you Camora?" he asked, with laboured breathing.
The wretched man sobbed.
"Yes, I am!"
The young King put both hands to his forehead and walked to the far end of the room.
"Traitor, bandit, murderer!" he moaned. "And I esteemed you as my friend!"
He wheeled round, his eyes flashing.
"Mr. Blake, I need no further proof. I now know all!" he cried hoarsely. "You have rid Spain of the greatest scoundrel alive. You have brought peace to Logona. You have succeeded where my power failed!"
Blake bowed.
"But how did you ever discover him?"
"I got my first suspicion when I heard he owed money, and when I met him riding at night-time at the head of a picked body of armed men," Blake explained. "I also asked myself why should Sparrow come to Spain and go up to the mountains if Camora did not welcome him? And also, what help could Camora be to him?
"For Sparrow, even with the aid of Camora, could not set to work with machinery on Valdava's estate without the latter being aware. And Valdava never told us such a thing was happening. He, the honourable man, who deeply regretted he could not carry out his obligations with Sir Arthur Holmead. And from that I worked on, from clue to clue."
"I see."
The King looked down at Valdava. He was lying motionless. Blake suddenly sprang forward, and pulled the prostrate man on to his back. The King was about to speak, but Blake raised his hand.
"Say nothing harsh, your Majesty," he urged solemnly. "However great his crimes, they will now be forgiven by you. He has left them behind for ever. He is dead!"
The King bent forward.
"What killed him?" he whispered.
"Poison!" Blake said, as he rose to his feet. "Your Majesty is upset. Pray let me lead you from the room. Fostin, I will wire at once to London and see that Valdava's money there is seized. Then you will get back your six thousand pounds. Tinker, wait here. I will summon the guard!"
"All is forgiven," the King said gravely. "Mr. Blake, I owe much to you, more than I can ever repay. Yes; and once again I am indebted to Britain. Come through this door. Here we can talk alone."
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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