his inferences.

"That being admitted, we are brought a little further. M does not
stand for Manvers--for what gentleman would give himself the trouble to
engrave his own name upon a cross? It is the initial of the giver's
name--and observe. Senor Don Luis, he is very familiar with her, since
he knows her but by one." He looked through his shop window to the
light, as he began a catalogue.
"Maria--Mariquita--Maritornes--Margarita--
Mariana--Mercedes--Miguela----" He stopped short, and his eyes
encountered those of his friend, fast upon him, ominous and absorbing.
He showed a certain confusion. "Any one of these names, it might be,
Senor Don Luis."

"Or Manuela," said the other, still regarding him steadily.

"Or Manuela--true," said Sebastian with a bow, and a perceptible
deepening of colour.

"In any case--" Don Luis rose, removed a speck of dust from his _capa_,
and adjusted his beaver--"In any case, my friend, we may assume the
12th of May to be our gentleman's birthday. _Adios, hermano_."

Sebastian was about to utter his usual ceremonial assurance, when a
thought drove it out of his head.

"Stay, stay a moment, Don Luis of my soul!" He snapped his fingers
together in his excitement.

"_Ah, que_!" muttered Don Luis, who had his hand upon the latch.

"A birthday--what is it? A thing of every year. Is he likely to
receive a brass crucifix worth two maravedis every year, and every year
to sheathe it in gold? Never! This marks a solemnity--a great
solemnity. Listen, I will tell you. It marks the end of a liaison.
She has left him--but tenderly; or he has left her--but regretfully.
It becomes a touching affair. Do you not agree with me?"

Don Luis raised his eyebrows. "I have no means of agreeing with you,
Sebastian. It may mark the end of a story--or the beginning. Who
knows?" He threw out his arms and let them drop. "Senor God, who
cares?"

CHAPTER X

FURTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS RAMONEZ

Goldsmithing is the art of Valladolid, and Sebastian was its master.
That was the opinion of the mystery, and his own opinion. He never
concealed it; but he had now to confess that Manvers had given him a
task worthy of his powers. To cut out and rivet the links of the
chain, which was to sheathe a piece of string and leave it all its
pliancy--"I tell you, Don Luis of my soul," he said, peering up from
his board, "there is no man in our mystery who could cope with it--and
very f