man. I went down into the street and picked it up. It was the sword-stick
which Juanita sent to her father for the New Year."

"Why did he not let us know that he was coming to Europe?" asked Marcos.

"Ah! That he will tell us hereafter. The mere fact of his being attacked
in the streets of Saragossa and killed for the money that was in his
pockets is, of course, quite simple, and common enough. But why should he
be cared for by a friar, and taken to one of those numerous religious
houses which have sprung into unseen existence all over Spain since the
Jesuits were expelled?"

"Has he left a will?" asked Marcos.

Sarrion turned and looked at him with a short laugh. He threw his
cigarette away, and coming into the room, sat down in front of the small
table where Marcos was still satisfying his honest and simple appetite.

"I have told my story badly," he said, with a curt laugh, "and spoilt it.
You have soon seen through it. Mogente made a will on his
death-bed--which was, by the way, witnessed by Leon de Mogente as a
supernumerary, not a legal witness--just to show that all was square and
above board."

"Then he left his money--?"

"To Juanita. One can only conclude that he was wandering in mind when he
did it. For he was fond of her, I think. He had no reason to wish her
harm. I have picked up what unconsidered trifles of information I can,
but they do not amount to much. I cabled to Cuba for news as to Mogente's