It was arranged that, after Dolores had been conveyed with Concha and La Giralda in attendance to the Convent of the Holy Innocents, the three young men and El Sarria should return in order to release and warn the brothers Fernandez of the consequences of treachery. Thereafter they were to ride out upon their mission. Crisp and clear the night was. The air clean-tasting like spring water, yet stimulating as a draught of wine long-cooled in cellar darkness. Very gently, and as it were in one piece like a swaddled infant, Dolores was lifted by El Sarria in his arms and laid upon the hastily-arranged ambulance. The four bearers fell in. La Giralda locked the doors of the mill-house, and by a circuitous route, which avoided the village and its barking curs, they proceeded in the direction of the convent buildings. As often as the foot of any of the bearers slipped upon a stone, Ramon grew sick with apprehension, and in a whisper over his shoulder he would inquire of Dolores if all was well. "All is well, beloved," the voice, weak and feeble, would reply. "You are here--you are not angry with me. Yes, all is well." They moved slowly through the darkness, La Giralda, with many crooning encouragements, waiting upon Dolores, now lifting up the corner of a cover-lid and now anxiously adjusting a pillow. It was done at last, and with no more adventure than that once when they were resting the carrying couch under a wall, a muleteer passed, and cried, "Good-night to you, folk of peace!" To which El Sarria grunted a reply, and the man passed on, humming a gay Aragonese ditty, and puffing his cigarette, the red point of which glowed like a fire-fly long after both man and beast had been merged in the general darkness of the valley. They were soon passing under the eastern side of the convent. "Ah, I can smell them," murmured John Mortimer, exstatically, "a hundred tons, if not more. I wonder if I could not tackle the old lady to-night about them?" He spoke meditatively, but no one of the party took the least notice. For Rollo was busy with the future conduct of the expedition. Etienne was thinking of the girl behind the green lattices, while the others did not understand a word of what he said. John Mortimer sighed a deep and genuine sigh. "Spain is very well," he muttered; "but give me Chorley for doing business in!" At last they were at the little white cowl of the porter's lodge, out of which the black bars of the wicket grinned with a semblance of ghastly mirth. Rollo knocked gently. The panel slid back noiselessly, and there was the face of Concha Cabezos dimly revealed. No longer mischievous or even piquant, but drawn and pale with anxiety. "There are bad people here," she whispered, "who have persuaded the Lady Superior that you are impostors. She will not receive or keep Dolores Garcia unless she is satisfied----" "What?" came from the rear in a thunderous growl.