A week had passed since the conversation between Valerie Delmonte and
Contraras had taken place. A great function was on at the Royal Palace
to-night. All the elite of Madrid would be there.
For this special occasion, the leading members of the Spanish section
had shifted from Fonterrabia to the capital--Zorrilta, Alvedero, Violet
Hargrave, Andres Moreno. Contraras and Valerie Delmonte had already
taken up their residence there. It was the night of the great _coup_,
on the successful development of which depended the dawn of the new era.
Moreno had a busy day. Thanks to the noble-spirited action of
Mademoiselle Delmonte, who had taken the entire execution of the _coup_
upon herself, he was spared any active participation in it. Violet
Hargrave, who had been originally named as an assistant, was also
dispensed with.
At eleven o'clock in the morning, he was seated in the private room of
the Head of the Spanish Secret Service. There was also present the Head
of the Police. The three men talked together for a very considerable
time. Moreno was attired in his shabby workman's garb; he had on also a
false beard and moustache.
When the interview was terminated, Moreno rose; and turned to the Chief
of Police.
"You have thought it all out then? You know she will come with the
Duchess del Pineda."
"She will be watched from the moment she enters the Palace to the moment
she leaves it," was the chief's confident reply.
"And you say that the Duchess is quite ignorant of her intentions?" It
was the Chief of the Secret Service who spoke.
"I will swear to the innocence of the Duchess, also to that of the Duke.
They are simply tools. They have been made use of by a superior
intelligence, by a man who has a strong hold over the Duke."
"I wish, Mr Moreno, you were able to take us a little more into your
confidence. Would it not be possible to bag the whole lot to-night?"
The Chief of the Police rubbed his hands at the thought. "Ah, that
would be a fine idea. And I suppose, Mr Moreno, you have it in your
power to enable us to do so?"
"Gently, gentlemen, if you please. Don't be ungrateful. I am helping
you somewhat to-night. And because I am doing this, you want to rush
things," answered the young journalist in his usual quiet way. "Now,
look you, much as I desire to serve you, I have a very tender regard for
my own skin."
"Naturally," cried the Secret Service man. And the Chief of Police
echoed him.
"The secret of this project to-night has been entrusted to a good many
people," continued Moreno. "If it fails, as you promise me it will
fail, two things will occur to the mind of the Chief--one that the
brotherhood has been betrayed by one in their counsels, the other that
your spies noticed something suspicious in the behaviour of the woman,
and that she was arrested on the strength of that suspicious behaviour."
The two men nodded their heads. They began to see the drift of his
observations.
"I was at first designed to take part in this project, but the original
programme was altered. Had it been adhered to, I think I could have
enabled you to bag the whole lot, at any rate, most of them, and yet
escaped scot free myself, of course with your co-operation."
"We dare not ask you to disclose your plan?" insinuated the Secret
Service man gently.
Moreno shook his head. "I think not. But if this _coup_ fails, there
will be another planned shortly. By that time my ideas will be
perfected, and I trust I shall be able to do what you want, and escape
with a whole skin. Only one member of the brotherhood will be here
to-night. The others are scattered about. Suspicion would at once fall
upon me if every one except myself were taken."
"We could work that out pretty easily, could we not?" queried the Chief
of Police eagerly.
"I think not," was Moreno's answer. "You would have got this lot out of
the way, but there are a few members of the brotherhood left in London,
and every man has a knife handy. I must show a clean sheet to those who
remain at large. Please trust me, and I will shortly do it in my own
way."
Moreno left after cordial hand-shaking. Both the Chiefs were men of
considerable astuteness, and great experience. But they agreed that
there was a certain subtlety about this young man, a certain suggestion
of strength and confidence, that won their admiration.
Moreno perhaps did not repose quite so much confidence in them as they
did in himself.
"I hope to heaven they won't bungle it at the last minute," he said to
himself as he walked along. "If I were dealing with the French police,
I shouldn't have a doubt."
He walked down the Puerta del Sol, past the Grand Hotel de la Paix. He
saw the tall form of Contraras enter the vestibule. He shrugged his
shoulders, and a look of regret stole over his face.
"He is going to hearten her up for this night's work, the old devil,
while he stands safely outside, and looks on. Poor little woman! I
wish I could save her. But how can you save a fanatic?" So ran his
thoughts. "Why in the name of wonder does a woman who has got
everything in the world she requires want to mix herself up with this
wretched and bloodthirsty crew? She must lie on the bed she has made,
and it will be a pretty hard one, I should wager."
Moreno walked swiftly in the direction of a poor quarter of the town.
He entered the humble abode of an inferior member of the Spanish Secret
Service, where he doffed his working-man's garb and assumed his ordinary
clothes.
Later on, he saw Violet Hargrave, who was living close to him.
Violet seemed very restless and perturbed. "This is the great night,"
she said by way of greeting. "I wonder if it will come off all right."
"I should say there is every chance it will, unless Valerie's nerve
fails her at the last moment," was Moreno's diplomatic answer.
Mrs Hargrave gave a little shudder. Her pretty delicate face went a
shade paler.
"I cannot help feeling glad that I wasn't brought into it."
Moreno bent upon her his keen glance. "And yet I should not put you
down as a very tender-hearted person."
"I don't know that I am, or should be under certain circumstances. But
I have no grudge against these people, no particular wrong to avenge.
Aren't you really glad you are out of it?"
"I suppose, in a way, I am. Still, one feels a bit of a coward in
letting Valerie take all the risk. It seems taking advantage of her
bravery, to snatch at the chance of avoiding all danger for oneself."
"I shall sit up very late, on the chance of hearing the news."
"On the contrary, I think I shall go to bed early," said Moreno. "We
shall hear nothing to-night in this distant quarter. And in the morning
there will be the news, or no news at all. The Chief will let us know."
The great Contraras, very upright and vigorous for his age, was shown
into Mademoiselle Delmonte's sitting-room. She sprang up eagerly at his
entrance.
"I am so glad you have come. You are a little late, are you not?
Luncheon will be served in a few moments."
He could see she was very restless, and her cheeks were pale; there was
a strange, almost unnatural brilliance in her dark eyes. Her voice was
jerky.
He took both her hands in his and pressed them tenderly. "You are not
afraid, Valerie?"
He was a fanatic, bold, brutal, and ruthless in his fanaticism, ready to
sacrifice anything and everybody to the one absorbing idea. But at the
sight of those pale cheeks, that quivering mouth, a momentary regret
assailed him. He was a father, and this beautiful young woman was young
enough to be his daughter.
"We ought to have had a man for this job," he said, speaking a little
hoarsely. "But you know you chose it yourself; you would not even have
another associated with you."
"I know." She tried to laugh lightly, but there was a quaver in the
laugh. "I do not regret. I am not really afraid. But I suppose every
soldier on his first battlefield has inward tremors that he cannot
repress. I am a soldier of the Revolution, and to-night is my first
battlefield."
"And you feel those tremors, eh?"
"Just a little, although I blush for them. But don't let us think of
this. Ah, here comes lunch." They sat down to the meal. She was a
very abstemious woman, and rarely partook of stimulants. But, in honour
of Contraras' visit, she had ordered a bottle of champagne. Under its
exhilarating influence, her jangled nerves readjusted themselves, and
she became her natural self. The colour returned to her cheeks.
She raised her glass and nodded to her guest.
"To the new world, born upon the ruins of the old."
"Amen to that wish!" cried Contraras fervently, as he drank his wine in
one long draught.
There was a long pause, which she broke abruptly. "I think I have told
you I made my will in London last year."