My heart beat quickly, for in a few moments I ascertained that a meeting was in progress to decide upon the formation of the Cabinet. I recognised the voice of Senor Canovas, who acted as president, and there must have been fully eighteen or twenty of the most prominent members of his party present. With paper and pencil in hand, I listened to the discussion, as each name was submitted for the eight principal offices of State, Senor Canovas himself being, of course, President of the Council. The first business was the acceptance of the chief of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs by the Duke of Tetuan, and it was agreed without a single dissentient that Senor Romero y Robledo should become Minister of Justice. Senor Bosch and Senor Castellanos accepted office as Ministers of Public Works and the Colonies respectively; but a discussion lasting nearly an hour took place regarding the Ministry of Finance, until an agreement was at length arrived at that to Senor Navarro Reverter the portfolio should again be allotted. Protracted discussions also ensued regarding the appointment of the Ministers of Marine, War, and the Interior, and it was not until nearly seven that these appointments were made. Then Senor Canovas read a complete list of the newly-formed Cabinet,--each member of which was present, and expressed his acceptance of office,--afterwards stating that the crisis was at an end, and that at noon on the following day he had arranged to place the list in the hands of the Queen-Regent. Little did the President of the Council dream that the list he had read out had been carefully noted by an eavesdropping journalist, and that even while his colleagues were congratulating each other upon the amicable solution of the crisis, the correspondent was busy preparing a list of the new Cabinet, which would be published in London in the morning, and known throughout England many hours before it became public in Spain. Congratulating myself upon my good fortune, I finished my dispatch, waited until all the politicians had left the President's room, and then descended to the _table d'hote_. Opposite me sat Senor Romero y Robledo, the new Minister of Justice, but in reply to my carefully-veiled inquiries he gave no sign that a Cabinet had been formed. The decision was, I knew, a profound secret until the Queen had given her assent. While idling over dessert, with just an hour to catch my train to Bayonne, the waitress handed me a note, stating that a man-servant awaited a reply. On the envelope was a great gilt crest, and the address was written in an unfamiliar angular hand. As I tore it open, a breath of sweet perfume greeted my nostrils, and the words I read in French were as follows:-- "Villa Guipuzcoa, _July 22_.