ble.

"With excuses, Don Sebastian, but the wine is on your side," he said, and
filled his glass from the decanter before he sat down.

In the meantime the man who had come in was waiting, but seemed to have
moved, because Jake could only see an indistinct figure in the gloom.

"Is that you, Enrique?" Kenwardine asked when he had lighted his pipe.

"_Si, senor_," a voice answered, and Kenwardine made a sign of
dismissal.

"_Bueno!_ You can tell me about it to-morrow. I am engaged now."

The footsteps began again and when they died away Kenwardine picked up
the cards.

"Shall we play for half an hour?" he asked.

The others agreed, but the stakes were moderate and nobody took much
interest in the game; and Jake presently left the house without seeing
anything more of Clare. He felt he had wasted the evening, but as he
walked back to the line he thought about the man whom Kenwardine had sent
away. He did not think the fellow was one of the servants, and it seemed
strange that Richter should have got up and stood in front of Don
Sebastian when the latter was trying to see across the patio. Still,
there was no apparent reason why the Spaniard should want to see who had
come in, and Jake dismissed the matter.

CHAPTER XIII

THE RETURN FROM THE FIESTA

The sure-footed mules, braced hard against the weight of the carriage,
slid down a steep descent across slippery stones when Clare, who wondered
what would happen if the worn-out harness broke, rode into Adexe.
Gleaming white houses rose one above another among feathery palms, with a
broad streak of darker green in their midst to mark the shady alameda.
Behind, the dark range towered against the sky; in front lay a
foam-fringed beach and the vast blue sweep of dazzling sea. Music came up
through the languid murmur of the surf, and the steep streets were filled
with people whose clothes made patches of brilliant color. The carriage
jolted safely down the hill, and Clare looked about with interest as they
turned into the central plaza, where the driver stopped.

"It's a picturesque little town and I'm glad you brought me," she said.
"But what does the fiesta they're holding celebrate?"

"I don't know; the first landing of the Spaniards, perhaps," Kenwardine
replied. "Anyhow, it's a popular function, and as everybody in the
neighborhood takes part in it, I came with the object of meeting some
people I do business with. In fact, I may have to leave you for a