e were
continually passing through the Rambla, and entering and leaving the
_posadas_, which were open for the sale of wine and bread soon after
three o'clock in the morning.

Emile yawned and stretched, and pulled himself up slowly from the chair
by the open window in which he had fallen asleep. He was cramped and
stiff from his uncomfortable position. Anxiety and strain had deepened
the lines on his face, and his eyes were dull and sunken. He looked
less hard, less alert, and altogether more human and approachable.

A glance at the bed assured him that Arithelli was still asleep and in
exactly the same attitude as he had left her. Though her sleep was not
a natural one, at least it was better than drugs, and he had given her
a respite, a time of forgetfulness. In a few minutes he would have to
arouse her again to more pain and discomfort, and the inevitable
weariness of convalescence. He stood inhaling the wonderful soft air
and gathering up his energies to face the work of another day.
Arithelli's affairs had to be put straight, and Vardri provided for in
some way. He did not in the least know how this was all to be
accomplished, and at present the problems of the immediate future
seemed likely to prove a little difficult.

He was not by nature optimistic, and the events of the last few days
had made him even less so than ordinary. He felt that he must go back
to his rooms, and finish out his _siesta_ before he could work out any
more plans.

Arithelli awoke at once when he touched her and called her name, but
before she had realised where she was Emile was half way downstairs in
search of Maria.

As it happened it was Sunday morning, and being at least outwardly
devout, the damsel was just on the point of starting for an early Mass,
and was arrayed in her church-going uniform of black gown and _velo_,
and armed with missal and rosary.

Her round eyes widened and her round mouth grew sulky when she heard
that she was expected to go upstairs without further delay and attend
to Arithelli. Juan would be waiting for her outside the church door,
Maria reflected, and perhaps if she did not come he would seek others.
There was Dolores, of the cigarette factory, for example. The English
Senora could surely wait a few minutes. Her expression, and her
obvious unwillingness, supplied Emile with material for cynical
reflections upon the working value of religion. He did not trouble to
communicate his views to