fore could not under any circumstances agree to take advice
contrary to which he had already acted. The most he could now say to the
dwarf would be that he could give no answer and would act as carefully
as possible. For the rest, the letter contained nothing treasonable, and
was not at all what he had expected and believed it to be. It appeared
to be written in a friendly spirit, and with the exception of his own
brother and Mendoza, he was not aware that he had an enemy in Spain, in
which he was almost right. Nevertheless, bold and frank as he was by
nature, he knew enough of real warfare to distrust appearances. The
writer was attached to the King's person, or the letter might have been
composed, and even written in an assumed hand, by the King himself, for
Philip was not above using the methods of a common conspirator. The
limitation of time set upon his prudence was strange, too. If he had not
seen her and agreed to the terms, he would have supposed that Dolores
was being kept out of his way during those two days, whereas in that
time it would be possible to send her very far from Madrid, or to place
her secretly in a convent where it would be impossible to find her. It
flashed upon him that in shutting up Dolores that evening Mendoza had
been obeying the King's secret orders, as well as in telling her that
she was to be taken to Las Huelgas at dawn. No one but Philip could have
written the letter--only the dwarf's fear of Philip's displeasure could
have made him so anxious that it should be read at once. It was all as
clear as daylight now, and the King and Mendoza were acting together.
The first letter had been brought by a woman, who must have got out
through the window of the study, which was so low that she could almost
have stepped from it to the terrace without springing. She had watched
until the officers and the servants had gone out and the way was clear.
Nothing could have been simpler or easier.

He would have burnt the letter at the lamp before the picture, had he
not feared that some one might see him do it, and he folded it again and
thrust it back under his doublet. His face was grave as he turned away,
for the position, as he understood it, was a very desperate one. He had
meant to send Dolores to Villagarcia, but it was almost impossible that
such a matter should remain unknown, and in the face of the King's
personal opposition, it would probably ruin Quixada and his wife. He, on
his side, might se