"We will lunch somewhere by the road, and we will go on to the country
house of the Claytons, who will give us tea. Then in the afternoon we
will return."
Slingsby hesitated. It is curious to remember on how small a matter so
much depended. I believe he would have refused, but at that moment the
sunset gun went off and he jumped out of his chair.
"Yes, I am fairly rocky," he admitted. "I will take a day off."
I borrowed the car, and we set off and lunched according to our
programme. It was perhaps half an hour afterwards when we were going
slowly over a remarkably bad road. A powerful car, driven at a furious
pace, rushed round a corner towards us, swayed, lurched, and swept
past us with a couple of inches to spare, whilst a young man seated at
the wheel shouted a greeting and waved his hand.
"Who the dickens was that?" I asked.
"I know," replied Slingsby. "It's Morano. He's a count, and will be a
marquis and no end of a swell if he doesn't get killed motoring.
Which, after all, seems likely."
I thought no more of the man until his name cropped up whilst we were
sitting at tea on the Claytons' veranda.
"We passed Morano," said Slingsby. And Mrs. Clayton said with some
pride--she was a pretty, kindly woman, but she rather affected the
Spanish nobility:
"He lunched with us to-day. You know he is staying in Gibraltar."
"Yes, I know that," said Slingsby. "For I met him a little time ago.
He wanted to know if there was a good Government launch for sale."
Mrs. Clayton raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"A launch? Surely you are wrong. He is devoting himself to aviation."
"Is he?" said Slingsby, and a curious look flickered for a moment over
his face.
We left the house half an hour afterwards, and as soon as we were out
of sight of it Slingsby opened his hand. He was holding a visiting
card.
"I stole this off the hall table," he said. "Mrs. Clayton will never
forgive me. Just look at it."
His face had become extraordinarily grave. The card was Morano's, and
it was engraved after the Spanish custom. In Spain, when a woman
marries she does not lose her name. She may be in appearance more
subject to her husband than the women of other countries, though you
will find many good judges to tell you that women rule Spain. In any
case her name is not lost in that of her husband; the children will
bear it as well as their father's, and will have it printed on their
cards. Thus, Mr. Jones will call on you, but on the card he leaves he
will be styled:
Mr. Jones and Robinson,
if Robinson happens to be his mother's name, and if you are scrupulous
in your etiquette you will so address him.
Now, on the card which Slingsby had stolen, the Count Morano was
described: