way of the Rising Sun is ever a
scene of animation, and the more so on a "fiesta," which it happened
to be that day.

I stood there looking blankly out upon the centre of Madrid life. It
was irksome to be compelled to remain in the hotel during the daytime
for fear of recognition by the man Suzor. Why had he held that secret
meeting with the widow of the wealthy Count Chamartin? Hambledon had
certainly acted with discretion and promptitude in following the lady
in black to her home in Segovia. Could the Frenchman's visit to Madrid
be in any way connected with the affair at Stretton Street?

A new and highly interesting feature had arisen in the fact which I
had only recently discovered, that Suzor had apparently travelled with
me from York to London on that well-remembered afternoon with some set
and distinct purpose. He had been most affable, and he had told me all
about himself--a story which I now knew to be fictitious. In return, I
suppose I had told him something about myself, but the exact
conversation had long ago escaped my memory.

I had had no suspicion that the man who had posed as an important
official of one of the best known of French banking corporations was
in any way associated with the mysterious Oswald De Gex, until I had
seen him meet in secret the girl with whom I had fallen so violently
in love.

I tried to analyse my feelings towards Gabrielle Tennison, but failed
utterly. I loved her, and loving her so well, I now set my whole soul
upon elucidating the mystery.

Truly, the problem was most puzzling, presenting further complications
at every turn.

Through the day I idled about the big hotel, occupying my time in
writing letters and reading the papers. The cafe below in the late
afternoon was crowded, for on the day of a fiesta Madrid is always
agog with life and movement.

When night fell and I ate my solitary dinner in the big restaurant,
where I specially ordered an _olla_ with _garbanoz_, a dish so dear to
the Spanish palate and which cannot be procured beyond the confines of
King Alfonso's kingdom. The waiter aided me, of course, and he smiled
contentedly when I gave him his _propina_.

Around me there dined as smart a set of people as those who frequented
the Carlton in London, and perhaps the toilettes were even more
elaborate. In certain feminine details the West End can be eclipsed
both by modern Madrid and Bucharest, while Paris remains where she has
ever been, the inventor of