His last days were troubled by anxiety about his daughter and only child. He knew that if his property became subject to the lingering processes of the Spanish courts, very little of it would be left for Juanita. He had no near relatives or friends on whose integrity and business capacity he could thoroughly rely. Mr. Lumsden, his English partner, would, as a heretic, probably be unable to act as executor of a will, and in any case would be seriously handicapped in any legal proceedings. He therefore made no will, but solemnly entrusted his servant with the task of carrying out his wishes. José was forty years of age, wholly illiterate, but devoted to his old master, and even more to Juanita. He enjoyed Don Fernan’s entire confidence, and was fully informed of his master’s affairs. A sum of money had already been invested in England that would produce an income of about £400 a year; of this Mr. Lumsden was trustee. The remainder of his property consisted of a country house and estate near Morata, some miles west of Saragossa; the family plate and heirlooms; and the money realized by the sale of his disposable stock in Barcelona. The movable property was all given into José Pinzon’s charge, to be handed over to Juanita when the country should have settled down again. "That won’t be yet, I’m afraid," remarked Jack, "but no doubt José has it safe enough. By the way, where is he?" "I wish I knew," said Juanita anxiously. "Nothing has been heard of him since the great sortie of Captain Mariano Galindo about ten days ago. He volunteered among the brave two hundred, and was one of the first to spike the French guns. But he never came back." "Poor fellow!" said Jack. "I’m very sorry. We used to be great chums. There aren’t many like him. You will miss him sadly." "Yes, indeed; and I wouldn’t mind about the property if only he were safe." "But surely his disappearance doesn’t affect the property?" "Well, you see, nobody else knows where it is. Father didn’t tell me. He thought there would be less risk of harm if I knew nothing about it." "But he would be sure to provide against José’s death. Ah!" he exclaimed, as a sudden light dawned, "that explains it. I had a letter from him in Salamanca, telling me about another letter left with General Palafox. No doubt everything was explained in that." "Was explained! What do you mean?" "The letter has disappeared—was stolen, mistaken for plans of the city. But there’s still a chance left. A third letter was sent to my father. We must hope it was a duplicate of the lost one." "Oh dear!" sighed Juanita, "to think that so many people should be troubled with poor little me!" "We seem to have rather muddled things among us," said Jack. "But I see now what Mig Prig is aiming at. Have you heard that he is back in Saragossa?" "Miguel back!" exclaimed Juanita; in her tone there was a hint of uneasiness. "Oh, I do hope I shall not meet him! But I won’t think of him."