Don Miguel smiled faintly, and waved his hand reassuringly. "There is no need, my friend, for emotion. If we were not of the same mind you might, of course, have some ground for uneasiness; but fortunately we understand one another. Is it not so?" "Sí, Señor," the man replied, recovering himself with an effort. "Sí, Señor, we understand one another." "That is well. Now we can proceed. You can understand that our good friends out yonder, who also wish to end this terrible siege, are grieved by your ill-success. They are saying hard things about you. They even went the length of giving me your name, which, if I were less discreet, might well have been awkward for you. I don’t disguise that if they capture Saragossa while you are still in their debt—one thousand pesetas, is it not?—they may treat you somewhat harshly. But, fortunately, you have a chance of retrieving yourself." Don Miguel paused. His host had now to some extent recovered his composure. "And what is that?" he asked sullenly. "I happen to know, hombre, where our noble commandant has placed the papers you failed to find. If you can deliver those papers to me I will see that our friends outside do not forget you." The man smiled cunningly. "Thank you, Señor! If I run the risk it would suit me better to claim the reward myself." "As you please, my friend. But remember that without my assistance you can do nothing. A few more days will end the siege, and then—" He smiled, then added reflectively: "They say it is an easy death." Pablo Quintanar winced. He felt himself in the toils, and had some difficulty in resisting the impulse to throw himself upon his visitor and end the interview with a knife-thrust. But he felt that Don Miguel, with all his languid urbanity, was fully on his guard, and choking down his animosity he replied: "What does the Señor wish me to do?" Don Miguel’s voice throughout the interview had been carefully modulated to defeat any eavesdropping. He now rose quietly, and, rapidly opening the door, peered out on to the landing. There was no one in view. He stretched himself over the balustrade and saw, on the flight below, what appeared to be a tall figure lurking in the shadow. He seemed satisfied. Quietly re-entering the room, he closed the door. Then began a long colloquy between the two men, Miguel giving precise directions as to the whereabouts of a certain box, and the means whereby it could be secured. "I think, my friend, there is nothing more to say," he remarked in conclusion. "The matter now rests with you." "One moment, Señor," said Quintanar, motioning him to be seated. He had listened deferentially to what Miguel had been saying, and had obediently fallen in with every proposition; but there was now a vindictive look in his eyes that caused Miguel a strange uneasiness. "Certainly," he replied, "but I have little time to spare."