dge," replied Sarrion. "He heard it
also, and asked what it was. The next moment he spoke of Juanita. The
sound must have put the thought of Juanita into his mind."

"Which means that he provided the carriage. He must have had it waiting
in the village. Whatever he may undertake is always perfectly organised;
we know that. How long ago was that?"

"An hour ago and more."

Marcos nodded and glanced at the clock.

"He will no doubt have made arrangements for her to get safely through to
Pampeluna."

"Then where are you going?" asked Sarrion, perceiving that Marcos was
slipping into his pocket the arm without which he never traveled in the
mountains.

"After her," was the reply.

"To bring her back?"

"No."

Marcos paused for a moment, looking from the window across the valley to
the pine-clad heights with thoughtful eyes. He held odd views--now deemed
chivalrous and old-fashioned--on the question of a woman's liberty to
seek her own happiness in her own way. Such views are unnecessary to-day
when woman is, so to speak, up and fighting. They belong to the days of
our grandmothers, who had less knowledge and much more wisdom; for they
knew that it is always more profitable to receive a gift than demand a
right. The measure will be fuller.

"No. Not unless it is her own wish," he said.

Sarrion made no answer. In human difficulties there is usually nothing to
be said. There is nearly always one clear course to steer and the
deviations are only found by too much talk and too much licence given to
crooked minds. If happiness is not to be found in the straight way
nothing is gained by turning into by-paths to seek it. A few find it and
a great number are not unhappy who have seen it down a side-path and have
yet held their course in the straight way.

"Will you keep him in the library--make the excuse that the sun is too
hot on the verandah--until I am gone?" said Marcos. "I will follow and,
at all events, see that she arrives safely at Pampeluna."

Sarrion gave a curt laugh.

"We may be able," he said, "to turn to good account Evasio's conviction
that you are ill in bed, when in reality you are in the saddle."

"He will soon find out."

"Of course--but in the meantime..."

"Yes," said Marcos with a slow smile ... "in the meantime." He left the
room as he spoke, but turned on the threshold to look back over his
shoulder. His eyes were alight with anger and the smile had lapsed into a
grin.

Sarrion went