Whither Thou Goest Part 37

"A week at the outside."

Moreno stifled a yawn. In spite of his vigorous const.i.tution, he was very tired.

"Let us turn in, old man. I feel as if I could sleep the clock round."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Contraras paid a flying visit to London. It was a secret visit, that is to say he stayed in an obscure hotel in the East of London, not venturing to his house in Fitzjohn's Avenue. His wife and daughter believed him to be still in Spain, from where he wrote letters to them at irregular intervals. He was far too busy to attend closely to domestic correspondence.

Moreover, like many great reformers, he had little in common with his family. His wife openly sneered at his doctrines; privately she thought he was a hypocrite who lacked the courage to practise what he preached, to lead the simple life which he was inculcating upon others. Their only child fully endorsed the mother's sentiments.

Moreover, she was in love with a young man who had been attracted to her by the report of her father's wealth. He was a poor cadet of an old and aristocratic family, and conservative to the backbone. The slightest word of this somewhat empty-headed young man outweighed the most profound arguments of the intellectual Contraras.

She was very dissatisfied with her parent, with what she considered his nonsensical theories of perfect equality. Miss Contraras was quite content to take the world as she found it. She did not trouble her head about the woes of the humbler cla.s.ses. As long as she could live softly and have plenty of new frocks, she was happy. Why should people with brains trouble to keep those who could not keep themselves?

Contraras came over to be present at a special meeting of the English section of the brotherhood, held, as usual, at Maceda's restaurant. The great _coup_ had failed, but he was still undaunted, still full of resolution.

There were only about half a dozen choice spirits present. Maceda, for this special occasion, had delegated to his manager the task of looking after his comfortable little establishment.

Both Lucue and the restaurant keeper greeted their Chief with a sorrowful air. Maceda voiced their mutual sentiments.

"The iron must have entered into your soul, comrade. So near to success, and then to fail. And then, the fate of poor Valerie, so bright, so clever, so full of enthusiasm for the cause!"

The leader's voice broke a little as he answered: "Alas, poor Valerie--a fate worse than death. How she will eat out that brave heart of hers in their loathsome dungeons!"

He pa.s.sed his hand across his brow, as if in that action he was trying to brush away a painful reminiscence. But the next moment he was again the man of action, of indomitable resolve.

"I think never again will I sanction the use of women in enterprises of this character, however willing they may be to take the risk and pay the penalty of failure. And now to our immediate business. How are things progressing in this country?"

Both Lucue and Maceda, but especially the former, who had only the business of the propaganda to attend to, gave him a most encouraging report.

There was great dissatisfaction amongst the ma.s.ses, a growing hatred of the cla.s.s that neither toils nor spins. Many of the most influential leaders were in secret sympathy with their doctrines, and only waited for a favourable moment to come out into the open.

The fanatical Contraras rubbed his hands; his brow cleared. He had forgotten Valerie Delmonte, that too responsive instrument upon whose warped feelings he had so skilfully played. She was only a martyr in a righteous cause.

He listened eagerly to the details with which Lucue supplied him. He could see already the dawn of that universal revolution which, if it came to pa.s.s, would claim him for one of the earliest victims.

And then, when Lucue had finished, the elder man spoke a little impatiently.

"But why did we fail in Madrid? Have you suspicions of anybody? After all, the secret was very carefully guarded. How many of us knew?"

Lucue shrugged his shoulders. "Is it much use going into that? We might all suspect each other. Moreno was over here a short time ago.

We conversed together on the subject."

"Ah, Moreno was over here, was he?" The Chief's brows knitted; he spoke in a suspicious voice. "Do you know on what business?"

"Purely private affairs, I understand. Something connected with his journalistic profession. But we were discussing the matter, and he suggested a very reasonable theory."

"And what was that?" interrupted Contraras. "His opinion was, to start with, that women should never be employed in enterprises of this character, because they had not sufficient nerve. His theory is that there was no treachery from our side, because if there had been they would never have allowed her to get inside the Palace, they would have arrested her at the entrance."

"It seems feasible," interrupted the Chief. "He thinks that Valerie got nervous and overstrung, that she detached herself too early from her chaperon, that the numerous spies who were watching got suspicious of her movements, and arrested her on the off-chance."

Contraras nodded his head, as he added, "It might be so, and it is quite true that women lose their heads more quickly than men, when things are not running exactly in the beaten track."

"Of course, as you may or may not know, our friend Moreno, although a very excellent fellow, is one of the vainest of men. He boasted that if you had given him the job he would have done it successfully. And I have sufficient faith in him to believe he would."

Lucue spoke quite warmly. It was not a little to the journalist's credit that he had succeeded in persuading this rather suspicious man both of his ability and his _bona fides_.

Contraras reflected for a few moments. "I have great confidence in your judgment, Lucue. You have known this man for a long time, eh?"

"For six or seven years, I should say."

It was perfectly true. Moreno had been coquetting with Lucue and the brotherhood, and half a dozen other things, for quite a period.

"And you trust him implicitly? He is making much money?"

"A little more than he used. But he tells me he is miserably paid, that the capitalists he works for suck his brains to swell their own enormous profits."

Contraras smiled. "He has brains, and he is poorly paid--in a word, he enriches the drones. He seems just our man, Lucue."

"I am sure of it," answered the other warmly.

"Good! I shall be seeing him in Madrid very shortly. We will try his mettle. He shall have the management of the next _coup_."

"And that, I take it, is the removal of that busy marplot, Guy Rossett?"

"Yes," said Contraras shortly. "But keep it to yourself and Maceda as much as possible. I won't have too many people in the know this time."

Lucue and Maceda promised to observe silence. The other members of the fraternity had drawn respectfully aside while the three chiefs conversed together. Jaques, otherwise Mr Jackson, arrived presently, and was informed of the conversation. He was always to be trusted. He was as great an enthusiast as Contraras himself.

"How is my little Violet getting on?" he asked.

"So far she has done good quiet work," was the chief's answer. "Of course, she never had the grit of poor Valerie, nor, I think, the enthusiasm."

"Possibly, possibly," agreed Jaques, who was very fond of his pretty protegee. "But still, if she is a bit slow, she is certainly very sure.

And, although we must all make sacrifices in the great cause when we are called upon, I am glad to think she is not in the position of poor Valerie. Ah, what a fate!"

The cunning old rogue, who was making money hand over fist, sighed in real or pretended sorrow for the unhappy young Frenchwoman whose ardent sympathies had landed her in such a plight. Jaques had given plenty of money to the cause, but, like Contraras, he had never greatly risked his precious skin.

The next day Contraras returned to Madrid. He could safely leave Jaques and Lucue to look after affairs in England.

After the failure of the great _coup_, there had been a little re-shuffling. Somoza, the educated young fisherman, a burning and a s.h.i.+ning light in the brotherhood, and Alvedero were stationed at Fonterrabia. Zorrilta was superintending affairs at Barcelona.

Contraras, the wealthy and magnificent, still maintained his quarters in the palatial hotel in the Plaza de Canovas. Moreno and Violet Hargrave were in Madrid also, but they had lodgings in a humbler quarter of the city.

Moreno often smiled when he thought what humbug it all was, this profession of democracy and equality. Because they were, comparatively speaking, humble members of the brotherhood, they were stowed away in poky lodgings. Contraras had a suite of rooms at the best hotel in the city, and went occasionally to Court.

"What a gigantic farce," he thought. "As if you could alter the primeval instincts of human nature by a carefully adjusted system of labels. And, as for tyranny and oppression, if I were a Spanish citizen, I would rather live under the rule of Alfonso than that of Contraras. If the old man got into the saddle, there would be plenty of shooting. He would make short work of those who didn't agree with him, without the formality of a trial."

Contraras was a wary old schemer. He had many visitors at his hotel-- men of light and leading in the city, the aristocratic connections of his wife. But he never allowed his anarchist subordinates to come near him. He was much too clever for that. He went to them.