"It was the King's brother-in-law--the Count de Sé. He was left guardian to the Princess Isabella under his late Majesty's will. All along he has pretended to work with us; and then, a month ago, he came secretly to England and betrayed the whole of our purpose to Da Freitas." There was a sulphurous snort from Colonel Saltero, as though the mere mention of the incident were altogether too much for his feelings. "We should be thankful," went on Congosta bitterly, "that the Princess is still alive. Da Freitas is not particular when his own interests are at stake. Had it suited him--" he made an expressive gesture with his hands. "As it is he seems to have thought the Count's plan equally effective--and perhaps healthier for himself. Why should not Pedro marry the Princess? Then when the revolution came there would only be one claimant to the throne of Livadia, and all our plans would be flung to the ground." "It seems to me," said Tony thoughtfully, "that the Count de Sé is what we call a dirty dog in this country. All the same I don't quite see what he was driving at. Surely it would have suited his book better for Isabella to be queen in her own right." "He was afraid," said Congosta scornfully. "He is a coward, and he was afraid there would be fighting, and perhaps failure. He has no heart for such things. It seemed to him better to live under the shelter of Da Freitas." "He will not live long," growled the Colonel ominously. "As soon as we learned what had happened," continued Congosta, "we had a council at Portriga, and it was decided that the Colonel and I should come to England. We have friends and agents here and it was not difficult to find out where the Count was living. I took a room at Richmond, and for a week I watched and waited in the hope of speaking with the Princess. I was convinced that she knew nothing of what was happening in Livadia--that she probably believed her father's friends were dead or powerless. The first day I discovered she was there, but as for speaking with her--" he shrugged his shoulders--"there was an old hag of a French woman who never left her--who watched her like a cat. Then at last came the evening when she left the house--alone. At first I was on my guard; I feared that Da Freitas might have learned I was in Richmond; that he was using this means to draw me into a trap. It was only when she got to the station and hid in the waiting-room that I began to suspect she was running away. I did not speak with her then; I did not wish to alarm her. I knew she was going to Waterloo, because I had listened when she asked for her ticket. So while I waited I sent off a telegram to Saltero to meet me there, and I too came up to London in the same train." He paused again, half out of breath from the rapidity with which he had been speaking.