‘By the side door in the Calle de la Ciudad. The keeper of that door, Excellency, is a mule. The señorita forced him to admit her. The sex can do so much,’ he added, with a tolerant shrug of the shoulders. ‘And the other—this Larralde?’ Concepçion raised his hand with outspread fingers, and shook it slowly from side to side from the wrist, with the palm turned towards his interlocutor—a gesture which seemed to indicate that the subject was an unpleasant, almost an indelicate, one. ‘Larralde, Excellency,’ he said, ‘is one of those who are never found at the front. He will not be in Toledo to-night—that Larralde.’ ‘Where is the Señorita Barenna?’ asked the General. ‘She is downstairs—commanding his Excellency’s soldiers to let her pass.’ ‘You go down, my friend, and bring her here. Then take that door yourself.’ Concepçion bowed ceremoniously and withdrew. He might have been an ambassador, and his salutation was worthy of an Imperial Court. A moment later Julia Barenna came into the room, her dark eyes wide with terror, her face pale and drawn. ‘Where is the Queen Regent?’ she asked, looking from one face to the other, and seeing all her foes assembled as if by magic before her. ‘Her Majesty is on the road between Aranjuez and Madrid—in safety, my dear Julia,’ replied the General soothingly. ‘But they think she is here. The people are in the streets. Look out of the window. They are in the Plaza.’ ‘I know it, my dear,’ said the General. ‘They are armed—they are going to attack this house.’ ‘I am aware of it.’ ‘Their plan is to murder the Queen.’ ‘So we understand,’ said the General gently. He had a horror of anything approaching sensation or a scene, a feeling which Spaniards share with Englishmen. ‘That is the Queen for the time being,’ added Vincente, pointing to Estella. Julia stood looking from one to the other—a self-contained woman made strong by love. For there is nothing in life or human experience that raises and strengthens man or woman so much as a great and abiding love. But Julia Barenna was driven and almost panic-stricken. She held herself in control by an effort that was drawing lines in her face never to be wiped out. ‘But you will tell them? I will do it. Let me go to them. I am not afraid.’ ‘No one must leave this house now,’ said the General. ‘You have come to us, my dear, you must now throw in your lot with ours.’ ‘But Estella must not take this risk,’ exclaimed Julia. ‘Let me do it.’ And some woman’s instinct sent her to Estella’s side—two women alone in that great house amid this man’s work, this strife of reckless politicians. ‘And you, and Señor Conyngham,’ she cried, ‘you must not run this great risk.’ ‘It is what we are paid for, my dear Julia,’ answered the General, holding out his arm and indicating the gold stripes upon it. He walked to the window and opened the massive shutters, which swung back heavily. Then he stepped out on to the balcony without fear or hesitation.