Inez followed him into this darksome hole, and the wall closed behind them. Then, taking her by the arm, he turned first to the right, next to the left, opened a door with a key which he carried, and, behold, they stood in a beautifully furnished room well lighted with lamps, for it seemed to have no windows. “Wait here,” he said to Inez, pointing to a couch on which she sat herself down, “while I fetch my lodger,” and he vanished through some curtains at the end of the room. Presently these opened again, and Israel reappeared through them with Castell, dressed now in Moorish robes, and looking somewhat pale from his confinement underground, but otherwise well enough. Inez rose and stood before him, throwing back her veil that he might see her face. Castell searched her for a while with his keen eyes that noted everything, then said: “You are the lady with whom I have been in communication through our friend here, are you not? Prove it to me now by repeating my messages.” Inez obeyed, telling him everything. “That is right,” he said, “but how do I know that I can trust you? I understand you are, or have been, the lover of this man Morella, and such an one he might well employ as a spy to bring us all to ruin.” “Is it not too late to ask such questions, Señor? If I am not to be trusted, already you and your people are in the hollow of my hand?” “Not at all, not at all, my dear,” said Israel. “If we see the slightest cause to doubt you, why, there are many great vats in this place, one of which, at a pinch, would serve you as a coffin, though it would be a pity to spoil the good wine.” Inez laughed as she answered: “Save your wine, and your time too. Morella has cast me off, and I hate him, and wish to escape from him and rob him of his prize. Also, I desire money to live on afterwards, and this you must give to me or I do not stir, or rather the promise of it, for you Jews keep your word, and I do not ask a maravedi from you until I have played my part.” “And then how many maravedis do you ask, young woman?” Inez named a sum, at the mention of which both of them opened their eyes, and old Israel exclaimed drily: “Surely—surely you must be one of us.” “No,” she answered, “but I try to follow your example, and, if I am to live at all, it shall be in comfort.” “Quite so,” said Castell, “we understand. But now tell us, what do you propose to do for this money?” “I propose to set you, your daughter, the Dona Margaret, and her lover, the Señor Brome, safe and free outside the walls of Granada, and to leave the Marquis of Morella married to another woman.” “What other woman? Yourself?” asked Castell, fixing on this last point in the programme. “No, Señor, not for all the wealth of both of you. To your dependent and your daughter’s relative, the handsome Betty.” “How will you manage that?” exclaimed Castell, amazed.