and indifference.

'You know my address,' said Sir John, with a slight suggestion of
masterfulness which had not been noticeable before the money changed
hands. 'I shall remain at the same hotel.'

Larralde nodded his head.

'I shall remember it,' he said. 'And now I go to take a few hours'
rest. I have had a hard day, and am as tired as a shepherd's dog.'

And indeed the day had been busy enough. Senor Larralde hummed an
air between his teeth as he struggled against the fierce wind.

Before dawn the gale subsided, and daylight broke with a clear, calm
freshness over the city, where sleep had been almost unknown during
the night. The sun had not yet risen when Larralde took the road on
his poor, thin black horse. He rode through the streets, still
littered with the debris of fallen chimneys, slates, and shutters,
with his head up and his mind so full of the great schemes which
gave him no rest, that he never saw Concepcion Vara going to market
with a basket on his arm and a cigarette, unlighted, between his
lips. Concepcion turned and watched the horseman, shrugged his
shoulders, and quietly followed until the streets were left behind
and there could no longer be any doubt that Larralde was bound for
Toledo.

Thither, indeed, he journeyed throughout the day with a
leisureliness begotten of the desire to enter the ancient city after
nightfall only. Toledo was at this time the smouldering hotbed of