Contraras paid a flying visit to London. It was a secret visit, that is
to say he stayed in an obscure hotel in the East of London, not
venturing to his house in Fitzjohn's Avenue. His wife and daughter
believed him to be still in Spain, from where he wrote letters to them
at irregular intervals. He was far too busy to attend closely to
domestic correspondence.
Moreover, like many great reformers, he had little in common with his
family. His wife openly sneered at his doctrines; privately she thought
he was a hypocrite who lacked the courage to practise what he preached,
to lead the simple life which he was inculcating upon others. Their
only child fully endorsed the mother's sentiments.
Moreover, she was in love with a young man who had been attracted to her
by the report of her father's wealth. He was a poor cadet of an old and
aristocratic family, and conservative to the backbone. The slightest
word of this somewhat empty-headed young man outweighed the most
profound arguments of the intellectual Contraras.
She was very dissatisfied with her parent, with what she considered his
nonsensical theories of perfect equality. Miss Contraras was quite
content to take the world as she found it. She did not trouble her head
about the woes of the humbler classes. As long as she could live softly
and have plenty of new frocks, she was happy. Why should people with
brains trouble to keep those who could not keep themselves?
Contraras came over to be present at a special meeting of the English
section of the brotherhood, held, as usual, at Maceda's restaurant. The
great _coup_ had failed, but he was still undaunted, still full of
resolution.
There were only about half a dozen choice spirits present. Maceda, for
this special occasion, had delegated to his manager the task of looking
after his comfortable little establishment.
Both Lucue and the restaurant keeper greeted their Chief with a
sorrowful air. Maceda voiced their mutual sentiments.
"The iron must have entered into your soul, comrade. So near to
success, and then to fail. And then, the fate of poor Valerie, so
bright, so clever, so full of enthusiasm for the cause!"
The leader's voice broke a little as he answered: "Alas, poor Valerie--a
fate worse than death. How she will eat out that brave heart of hers in
their loathsome dungeons!"
He passed his hand across his brow, as if in that action he was trying
to brush away a painful reminiscence. But the next moment he was again
the man of action, of indomitable resolve.
"I think never again will I sanction the use of women in enterprises of
this character, however willing they may be to take the risk and pay the
penalty of failure. And now to our immediate business. How are things
progressing in this country?"
Both Lucue and Maceda, but especially the former, who had only the
business of the propaganda to attend to, gave him a most encouraging
report.
There was great dissatisfaction amongst the masses, a growing hatred of
the class that neither toils nor spins. Many of the most influential
leaders were in secret sympathy with their doctrines, and only waited
for a favourable moment to come out into the open.
The fanatical Contraras rubbed his hands; his brow cleared. He had
forgotten Valerie Delmonte, that too responsive instrument upon whose
warped feelings he had so skilfully played. She was only a martyr in a
righteous cause.
He listened eagerly to the details with which Lucue supplied him. He
could see already the dawn of that universal revolution which, if it
came to pass, would claim him for one of the earliest victims.
And then, when Lucue had finished, the elder man spoke a little
impatiently.
"But why did we fail in Madrid? Have you suspicions of anybody? After
all, the secret was very carefully guarded. How many of us knew?"
Lucue shrugged his shoulders. "Is it much use going into that? We
might all suspect each other. Moreno was over here a short time ago.
We conversed together on the subject."
"Ah, Moreno was over here, was he?" The Chief's brows knitted; he spoke
in a suspicious voice. "Do you know on what business?"
"Purely private affairs, I understand. Something connected with his
journalistic profession. But we were discussing the matter, and he
suggested a very reasonable theory."
"And what was that?" interrupted Contraras. "His opinion was, to start
with, that women should never be employed in enterprises of this
character, because they had not sufficient nerve. His theory is that
there was no treachery from our side, because if there had been they
would never have allowed her to get inside the Palace, they would have
arrested her at the entrance."
"It seems feasible," interrupted the Chief. "He thinks that Valerie got
nervous and overstrung, that she detached herself too early from her
chaperon, that the numerous spies who were watching got suspicious of
her movements, and arrested her on the off-chance."
Contraras nodded his head, as he added, "It might be so, and it is quite
true that women lose their heads more quickly than men, when things are
not running exactly in the beaten track."
"Of course, as you may or may not know, our friend Moreno, although a
very excellent fellow, is one of the vainest of men. He boasted that if
you had given him the job he would have done it successfully. And I
have sufficient faith in him to believe he would."
Lucue spoke quite warmly. It was not a little to the journalist's
credit that he had succeeded in persuading this rather suspicious man
both of his ability and his _bona fides_.
Contraras reflected for a few moments. "I have great confidence in your
judgment, Lucue. You have known this man for a long time, eh?"
"For six or seven years, I should say."
It was perfectly true. Moreno had been coquetting with Lucue and the
brotherhood, and half a dozen other things, for quite a period.
"And you trust him implicitly? He is making much money?"
"A little more than he used. But he tells me he is miserably paid, that
the capitalists he works for suck his brains to swell their own enormous
profits."
Contraras smiled. "He has brains, and he is poorly paid--in a word, he
enriches the drones. He seems just our man, Lucue."
"I am sure of it," answered the other warmly.
"Good! I shall be seeing him in Madrid very shortly. We will try his
mettle. He shall have the management of the next _coup_."
"And that, I take it, is the removal of that busy marplot, Guy Rossett?"
"Yes," said Contraras shortly. "But keep it to yourself and Maceda as
much as possible. I won't have too many people in the know this time."
Lucue and Maceda promised to observe silence. The other members of the
fraternity had drawn respectfully aside while the three chiefs conversed
together. Jaques, otherwise Mr Jackson, arrived presently, and was
informed of the conversation. He was always to be trusted. He was as
great an enthusiast as Contraras himself.
"How is my little Violet getting on?" he asked.
"So far she has done good quiet work," was the chief's answer. "Of
course, she never had the grit of poor Valerie, nor, I think, the
enthusiasm."
"Possibly, possibly," agreed Jaques, who was very fond of his pretty
protegee. "But still, if she is a bit slow, she is certainly very sure.
And, although we must all make sacrifices in the great cause when we
are called upon, I am glad to think she is not in the position of poor
Valerie. Ah, what a fate!"
The cunning old rogue, who was making money hand over fist, sighed in
real or pretended sorrow for the unhappy young Frenchwoman whose ardent
sympathies had landed her in such a plight. Jaques had given plenty of
money to the cause, but, like Contraras, he had never greatly risked his
precious skin.
The next day Contraras returned to Madrid. He could safely leave Jaques
and Lucue to look after affairs in England.
After the failure of the great _coup_, there had been a little
re-shuffling. Somoza, the educated young fisherman, a burning and a
shining light in the brotherhood, and Alvedero were stationed at
Fonterrabia. Zorrilta was superintending affairs at Barcelona.
Contraras, the wealthy and magnificent, still maintained his quarters in
the palatial hotel in the Plaza de Canovas. Moreno and Violet Hargrave
were in Madrid also, but they had lodgings in a humbler quarter of the
city.
Moreno often smiled when he thought what humbug it all was, this
profession of democracy and equality. Because they were, comparatively
speaking, humble members of the brotherhood, they were stowed away in
poky lodgings. Contraras had a suite of rooms at the best hotel in the
city, and went occasionally to Court.
"What a gigantic farce," he thought. "As if you could alter the
primeval instincts of human nature by a carefully adjusted system of
labels. And, as for tyranny and oppression, if I were a Spanish
citizen, I would rather live under the rule of Alfonso than that of
Contraras. If the old man got into the saddle, there would be plenty of
shooting. He would make short work of those who didn't agree with him,
without the formality of a trial."
Contraras was a wary old schemer. He had many visitors at his hotel--
men of light and leading in the city, the aristocratic connections of
his wife. But he never allowed his anarchist subordinates to come near
him. He was much too clever for that. He went to them.
On the evening of the day on which he returned to Madrid, he met Moreno
and Violet Hargrave at the journalist's modest lodgings, by appointment.
Moreno, who was always fond of indulging in humorous jokes, would have
liked to apologise to the wealthy Contraras for receiving him in such
humble surroundings, with some caustic allusion to the time when all men
would be equal.
But he forbore. Contraras was too serious a person to indulge in humour
himself, or tolerate it in others. Besides, Moreno had special reasons
for ingratiating himself with his Chief, whom he privately stigmatised
as a "silly old visionary," and whose chances against the organised
forces of law and order he was not prepared to back.
Contraras was very gracious to his two subordinates. Whatever his
defects, he had the true note of Spanish courtesy.
He turned first to Violet Hargrave. "I have just come from London,
where I met our dear friend Jaques. He inquired most tenderly after
you, and sent through me his kindest remembrances."
Violet looked very pleased. If there was a tender spot in her heart, it
was for the old moneylender, who had been a father to her. She flushed
a little; quite a soft light came into her eyes.
"That was very sweet of him. He really has a heart of gold, dear old
Juan," she said softly.
Moreno looked at her curiously. He had not got to the bottom of her
yet. A hardened adventuress, pure and simple--that was how he had first
judged her. But her kindly mention of Jaques, "an old shark of the
first water," as the young journalist classed him in his own mind,
revealed something that he had not credited her with. Had she, after
all, a capacity for emotion, did she possess any real womanly instincts?
Contraras next addressed himself to Moreno.
"I also met in London our comrade Lucue, the man who introduced you to
the brotherhood."
"Ah, what a great man!" cried Moreno, with the fervour of a new and
enthusiastic recruit. "The only man, in my opinion, who would ever be
worthy to wear your mantle, if ever it should drop from your shoulders.
May that day be far distant!" he added piously.
Contraras, ever pleased with a little judicious flattery, became more
amiable than ever. The glance he bent upon the young journalist was
almost a benevolent one.
"Lucue speaks very highly of you, and I have always had the greatest
confidence in his judgment. He tells me, and, as he did not say it in
confidence, I can repeat it, you expressed your opinion that we made a
mistake in allowing Valerie to undertake the great _coup_. You added
that if you had been entrusted with it, you would have brought it off."
The question was a supreme test of Moreno's modesty, but he was not
taken aback. He turned the situation lightly, and with his usual
assurance.
"I am certain I should have done," he said composedly.
Contraras frowned a little. He had been very fond of Valerie Delmonte;
he rather resented any criticism of her.
"Why are you so sure, comrade Moreno? Valerie was very clever, very
subtle. Are you more so?"
The young man looked at his chief calmly. "I daresay she was much more
clever, much more subtle than I am, but she lacked my nerve."
"Ah, there is something in that," agreed the older man. "A woman may
have the brains of a man, I agree, that is to say, an exceptional woman,
but come to a crucial moment, and the brain will be dominated by the
nerves. It is the penalty of the sex."
The Chief ruminated over these remarks a few seconds before he spoke
again.
"Well, Moreno, I am going to give you a chance to prove your mettle.
You know the next item on our programme is the removal of Guy Rossett."
Moreno nodded. He had shot a side glance at Violet Hargrave, but she
had betrayed no sign of emotion. And yet, in the flat at Mount Street,
she had alluded to the project in a spirit of exultation.
"It was the first item on the programme, and was shelved in favour of
the later one. What do you mean precisely by the term `removal'?"
Contraras shrugged his shoulders. "That I have not yet quite decided
upon. The first thing is to get hold of him."
"That is quite easy," said Moreno in his usual quiet way.
Contraras looked at him sharply. "You speak very confidently, Moreno.
You appreciate the difficulties in the way? To get him either out of
the Embassy or his flat will be a tough job. He is well guarded, you
may depend."
"I appreciate all the difficulties, Contraras. To get him out of the
Embassy is well nigh impossible. To get him out of the flat is the
easier job of the two. Well, I will undertake to bring him to any place
you like."
"Your methods?" queried Contraras, in the same sharp tone.
Moreno bowed with great courtesy to his titular Chief.
"Pardon me for declining to answer that question at present. I am a
very new member of the brotherhood, I have my spurs to win, I have to
justify your confidence in me, or I should rather say the confidence of
Lucue, for you know next to nothing of me. I want to show you that I am
a little more clever, a little more subtle than perhaps you imagine.
When I deliver him to you, I will possibly explain my methods, not
before."
"You will undertake to deliver him to us?" questioned Contraras, still
speaking a little doubtfully. He was, however, very much impressed by
the young man's confident manner.
"On any day, at any hour you like to name," was the reassuring reply.
"I will settle the details later on," said Contraras, his voice
betraying a note of agitation. "Anyway, I depute you and Violet
Hargrave to see that this thing is carried out."
Moreno looked at the woman. "You will be my assistant in this?" he
asked.