The illness, after the first bad night had passed, gave him a chance to consider a number of things he had not thought of for some while. Sparta sent her maid to help nurse him, but did not come often herself. He was glad of that--he did not want her to see him with cracked lips and fever in his face. The maid was very quiet and deft--she had cool hands, and moved without little irritating creakings and rustlings, unlike most women. They talked, now and then. She reminded him of Sebastian. He had been remiss about Sebastian. Sebastian's monkey was dead--he remembered that, now. He had gone to Sebastian to tell him the great news and, while Sebastian had been appreciative enough, Andrew saw that he was sad. He had asked about the monkey. "Yes, Amigo is dead," said Sebastian, but would say no more, though he looked at a little brass medal that hung around his neck on a cord, and Andrew, who was bursting with talk, had felt rebuffed. He asked the maid about Sebastian now. "He is well, I think," said the maid, holding a cup to his lips. Andrew drank of the bitter infusion within it gratefully. "Don't you ever see him?" he said, smiling, when the cup had been taken away. "He asks for you often. He hopes you will be better soon." She avoided the direct reply. "Oh, I'll be up and around in no time," said Andrew. "Thanks to your nursing," he added. "I am glad if my nursing has helped you," said the maid, rather haltingly, as if she had to hunt for the English words. "You are a friend of the Minorcans--or you have been." "Tell me," said Andrew suddenly. "What did you mean that time in the corridor when you said the Minorcans would never get their lands? Dr. Gentian is going to give them their lands as soon as the governor lets him." "They will never have their lands," said the girl, sombrely. Her eyes fixed him. "Sometimes Dr. Gentian sits in his tall room with a gold cap on his head," she said, abruptly. "He sits there like a king--he thinks he is a king--_el rey--el rey_--" Her voice rose. "When he thinks that--men are taken into the woods to have their backs combed with steel as the coat of a horse is curried by its servant. That has not happened since you have been here, but it has happened. He had a madness in him, then--a madness that hides--the madness of a drunken king. That is why the Minorcans will never have their lands." Andrew stared at her, wonderingly. The picture she presented was wholly fantastic, but he could not doubt the sincerity in her face. "You're mad!" he said, finally, "Mad or--where did you ever hear such a crazy tale?" "I should not have spoken," said the girl, relapsing into her amazing calm, "You are going to marry my mistress. I should not have spoken." "What about Mr. Cave?" said Andrew, on impulse. "What do you Minorcans think of Mr. Cave?"