we shall never know that. No one knew he was coming--not even Juanita."

The Count glanced at his son only long enough to note the passage of a
sort of shadow across his dark eyes at the mention of the schoolgirl's
name.

"Francisco was attacked in the street down there, at the corner of the
Calle San Gregorio, and was killed," he concluded.

Marcos rose and crossed the room towards the window. He was, it appeared,
an eminently practical man, and desired to see the exact spot where
Mogente had fallen before the story went any farther. Perro went so far
as to push his plebeian head through the bars and look down into the
street. It was his misfortune to fall into the fault of excess as it is
the misfortune of most parvenus.

"Does Juanita know?" asked Marcos.

"Yes. My sister Dolores has told her. Poor child! It is more in the
nature of a disappointment than a sorrow. Her heart is young; and
disappointment is the sorrow of the young."

Marcos sat down again in silence.

"We must remember," said the Count, "that she never knew him. It will
pass. I saw the incident from this window. There is no door at this side
of the house. I should, as you know, have had to go round by the Paseo
del Ebro. To render help was out of the question. I went down afterwards,
however, when help had come and the dying man had been carried away--by a
friar, Marcos! I had seen something fall from the hand of the murdered