It was a gentleman of tall stature, whose aristocratic figure and Spanish
court costume were partially covered by a long cloak.

There was no doubt! Wolf could not be mistaken, for, while the former
was putting the key in his pocket, the mantle had slipped from one
shoulder.

"Malfalconnet," muttered Wolf, grasping the hilt of his short sword more
firmly.

But at the same moment the moonlight showed him the Spaniard's face.
A chill ran through his frame, followed by a feverish heat, for the
nocturnal intruder into his house was not the baron, but Quijada, the
noble Don Luis, his patron, who had just been lauding to the skies the
virtues, the beauty, the goodness of the peerless Dona Magdalena de
Ulloa, his glorious wife. He had intended to send Wolf, the friend and
housemate of his victim, to Spain to become the instructor of his
deceived wife.

He saw through the game, and it seemed as if he could not help laughing
aloud in delight at his own penetration, in rage and despair.

How clearly, and yet how coarsely and brutally, it had all been planned!

The infamous scoundrel, who possessed so much influence over the Emperor,
had first sent old Blomberg away; now he, Wolf, was to follow, that no
one might stand between the game and the pursuer.

Barbara's lover must be Quijada. For the Spaniard's sake she had given