I don't feel that's reason enough," said Pilar, looking so
troubled that I felt new stirrings of anxiety, and must have shown it; for
Pilar exclaimed that she was a "little beast" to worry me.

"You haven't worried me," I protested. "Still, I think I'll go to that
entertainment at the Alcazar."

Pilar and her father stared. "I see what you mean," said the girl. "You
hope to walk in and meet Lady Monica. But you can't, because the Alcazar's
closed to the public after sunset. It will only be open for the Duke as a
favour, because he's rich and important, and care will be taken that no
outsider slips in."

"If there should be one more guitarist than he hired, do you think it
would be noticed?" I asked, smiling.

Pilar clapped her hands. "You're a true lover, Don Ramon," she exclaimed.
"_Ay de mi!_ Nobody will ever love a little dark thing like myself, as
Lady Monica is loved. I must be satisfied with the affections of my
relations, and a few others, I suppose." Great eyes lifted sadly
ceiling-ward as she spoke, then cast down with distracting play of long
curled lashes. Spanish after all to her finger-tips, this Maria del Pilar
Ines, despite her Irish quickness. Poor Dick!

"You believe I could manage it, then?"

"I believe you _will_. Senor Waring has told me about the masked ball, and
how you played Romeo to somebody's Juliet."

"The difficulty will be to get hold of the _impresario_."

Pilar looked at her watch. "They'll know at the Alcazar who's been
engaged. There's an hour and a half yet before closing time."

"What if you and I take a stroll through?" suggested Dick.

"We'll all take a stroll through," said Pilar, "and papa shall find out.
You know, he can always make everybody tell him anything in five minutes.
Even Cristobal and I have never been able to keep a secret from him. If
I'd planned to elope, he would only have to whisper and smile, for me to
tell all, even if it meant my going into a convent directly after."

"Yes, we must go to the Alcazar now, or it will be too late," said the
Cherub, with an indulgent twinkle at his spoiled daughter.

The car took us to the gate of the Alcazar, a gate of that unsuggestive
Moorish simplicity which purposely hid all splendours of decoration from
any save favoured eyes. The guardian knew and evidently respected Colonel
O'Donnel; but with apologies which comprehended the whole party, he
regretted that he could not let us in. The King was to arrive in a few