"I take it that since you are greatly attached to your cousin, as well as your uncle, you would be disposed to help Rossett, in the event of his needing a friend?"
There was no reserve in the voice that replied.
"Yes, any man whom my cousin loves, whether he is her lover or husband, will find in me a friend."
Moreno nodded his head. He could not say how much he appreciated this att.i.tude, for he was sure that Farquhar was genuinely in love with Isobel. And he was sure now of what he had known all along, that the man was perfectly straight and honest, devoid of any petty or dishonouring meanness. Self-sacrifice could go no further than this--to a.s.sist Isobel"s lover.
"I am very glad to hear that, Farquhar. For the moment, my lips are sealed. Even to you, my greatest friend, I cannot tell all. But the day may come when danger will threaten Guy Rossett. It will be well then to know who are the friends on whom he can rely. It may be, when that day comes, you can help, perhaps you cannot. But, if you can, I shall count upon you."
"I have given you my promise," replied Farquhar simply. "For the sake of Isobel Clandon, I will help Guy Rossett, if my a.s.sistance is of any use."
A couple of hours later, Moreno left his friend"s chambers, after talking on other and impersonal subjects.
Shortly after that interview between the two men, there was a meeting at Maceda"s restaurant. It was a special function, convened especially by the great Lucue himself. There were only six people present, the chief himself, Maceda, who, on this very particular occasion, had delegated the conduct of his establishment to his second in command, Jackson, otherwise Jacques the moneylender, the Frenchwoman, Valerie Delmonte, Violet Hargrave, and Andres Moreno, the latest recruit.
The repast this time was of a much simpler nature. It lacked the elegance and profusion characteristic of the ordinary a.s.semblages, when the affairs of the brotherhood was discussed in a general fashion. It was evident from these symptoms, concluded Moreno, that something of importance, some stern business was in the air.
When the comparatively simple meal had been finished; Lucue opened the proceedings, speaking as usual in French.
"I had hoped that our brother from Barcelona, Jaime Alvedero, would have been with us to-night," he explained to his fellow-conspirators. "But grave affairs have detained him. He is, as you know, technically my superior, but he has written to me, authorising me to act with full authority in this very important matter of Guy Rossett. For the benefit of our latest member, Andres Moreno, I will just explain how, at the present moment, this young Englishman is a serious menace to the brotherhood."
Moreno looked expectantly in his chief"s direction. He already knew a great deal of what Lucue was going to explain at length for the journalist"s benefit, but he was too wide-awake to betray this. He appeared profoundly moved by his chief"s disclosures.
He a.s.sumed an expression of the greatest gravity when Lucue had finished, for he knew that this apparently genial and most astute person was watching him narrowly.
"It is a very serious menace, his appointment to the Court of Spain, as he will be on the spot," he commented quietly at the conclusion of the long harangue. "It must be counteracted in some way and speedily. As the newest member of this a.s.sociation, it does not become me to offer suggestions. I leave these to wiser and more experienced heads." He looked meaningly at the other three men, who he knew were the acknowledged chiefs of this particular section of the great brotherhood.
Lucue indulged in a smile of approval. Like most great men, he was not a little vain, and easily won by judicious flattery.
"Our brother Moreno is very modest," he said pleasantly. "But I have no doubt in a short s.p.a.ce we shall find him one of our wisest counsellors.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have a short way with people who try to thwart our well-laid plans."
Moreno played splendidly. He knew that, as the newest recruit, and with English blood running in his veins, he had to justify himself.
"That is true statesmanship," he said, in a voice of deep conviction.
"For although, for the time, we do not hold the reins of power, I am convinced that we are better and more far-seeing statesmen than those whom at the moment misgovern and oppress the world."
There was loud applause at this speech. The good-looking Frenchwoman clapped her hands loudly. Jackson and Maceda grunted audible approval.
Lucue"s aspect grew more benign. Violet Hargrave smiled her charming smile, which might mean anything, approval or disapproval. At least, so Moreno thought.
He was not quite sure of her yet. Was she, through some inexplicable warp of temperament, devoted heart and soul to the schemes of this infamous a.s.sociation, or was she, like himself, playing a double game?
"Since we are all united on our policy," broke in Lucue"s bland tones, "it only remains to settle the means."
There was a stir in the small a.s.sembly. The Frenchwoman leaned forward eagerly; Moreno did the same. He had no doubt of her fidelity to the cause. He could not follow a safer guide.
But after a longer discussion, they were unable to form any settled plan. They all felt it was almost impossible to engineer the matter from England. Finally, they agreed to refer it back to Alvedero, who had the advantage of being on the spot.
Then Lucue made a suggestion. "I propose that our comrades, Violet Hargrave and Andres Moreno, set out for Spain to confer with the leaders there. I suggest them for this reason--being partly English, they will be able to move about more freely, be less liable to suspicion on account of that fact."
Moreno and Violet Hargrave nodded their heads in confirmation of their acceptance of the task a.s.signed them.
Moreno shuddered inwardly, as he recalled the blood-curdling oaths which had been administered to him. On Violet Hargrave"s face had come a sudden expression which he could not quite define. He was inclined to think that it reflected a certain happiness in the prospect of doing harm to Guy Rossett.
The meeting broke up, and they went down the stairs together. When they reached the door, Violet spoke.
"Come to my flat to-night, as you did when you were first initiated,"
she said, in the voice that sounded so sweet and womanly. "It is evident that you and I are going to be very closely a.s.sociated,"--she shot at him a coquettish glance--"whether you desire it or not."
A man wholly Spanish on his father"s side was not likely to be deficient in gallantry.
"There is nothing I desire more, Mrs Hargrave. Apart from the importance of our common aims and aspirations, there is nothing in our brief a.s.sociation with the brotherhood that has given me greater pleasure than the fact that I have been enabled to make your acquaintance."
They hailed a pa.s.sing taxi, stepped in, and drove to the flat in Mount Street.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
Two men sat at a small table in an inferior restaurant in one of the lower quarters of Madrid.
One was dressed in the rough garb of a working-man. This was Andres Moreno, who, in his adventurous life, had played many parts. With his sardonic humour he was enjoying this particular role. The danger that he ran added a spice to his enjoyment.
The other man, Guy Rossett, was disguised also, but not quite so successfully. Moreno, due to his birth, could never be mistaken for anything but a Spaniard. On the other hand, Rossett could be easily recognised as a member of the bulldog race, a typical Englishman.
That morning, at the Emba.s.sy, a note had been delivered by a trusted messenger. It was a very brief one, and ran thus:
"Dear Mr Rossett,--You will remember a certain evening at the Savoy, when you were dining with your sister, a young lady whose name I will not mention, and her father. My host came over and spoke with you all for a few seconds. I am in Spain on important business. I should like to have a brief chat with you this afternoon."
The writer had suggested the meeting in one of the unfashionable quarters of the town.
He had appended his initials in a scrawling fashion. But at once recollection had come to Guy Rossett. He remembered that evening distinctly, when Maurice Farquhar had come over to their table, when General Clandon had expressed his displeasure at his nephew"s a.s.sociate, a man of whom Guy had some recollection.
The scrawling initials might have stood for anything. But Rossett deciphered them at once. The writer was Andres Moreno, a member of the Secret Service, also often in the pay of Scotland Yard.
Guy called for a bottle of wine. Not trusting to the cigars of the country, he produced his own case, and proffered it to the pretended working-man. Moreno waved it away.
"We will have cigarettes, if you please," he said, in a low voice.
"Very keen eyes are watching us here. If you dangle that case much longer, they will put you down as a rich English milord. We may have to meet here often, and we want to avoid that. You see, I pose as a humble and unprosperous working-man."
Rossett bowed to his companion"s superior judgment. Moreno knew the ropes better than he did. Cigarettes were called for, and then the Spaniard opened the ball. He spoke in French, in very low tones.
"Your friends did not do you a very good service in sending you here, Mr Rossett. At the present moment, yours is a very dangerous post."
Rossett did not reply without reflecting. He knew enough of this man to know that he was a trusted member of the Secret Service. But he was intelligent enough to know that, in spite of certain walks in life, n.o.body can be entirely trusted.
"Do you mind explaining a little more fully," he said cautiously.
Moreno smiled pleasantly. He appreciated the other"s caution. Rossett had a frank, open countenance, but he was not so innocent as he looked.
"My dear sir, I will lay my cards on the table with pleasure. I know a good deal about the Foreign Office and its ways. Greatorex sent you over here because you happen to have come into possession of a good deal of useful information about the anarchist business in this country. Am I right?" Guy nodded. "So far, you are right."