Congosta paused, and taking out his handkerchief pressed it against his lip. "Just before midday," he went on, "a big closed car came quickly along the lane and pulled up at the wharf. There was no one about at the moment except the four sailors. I saw Pedro open the door and get out, and then almost before I could realize what was happening there was my Royal mistress, drugged, helpless, hardly able to stand--with the Count on one side of her and Da Freitas on the other." He stopped again and took in a long breath. "I think for a little while I was mad. It would have been better, far better, if I had not shown myself. Then I could have got away quickly and something might still have been arranged. But for the moment I was so full of rage and disappointment that I did not know what I was doing. I only remember running downstairs--my mind made up that I would kill Da Freitas. Then I was amongst them; and had it been any one else my knife would have been in his heart before they could have stopped me. But I think that black, smiling devil cannot be surprised. Even as I flung myself at him, he dragged the Princess in front of him, and I could not strike for the fear that I might hurt her. Then in a moment I was beaten to the ground. I fought bravely--splendidly, but what could I do against six men? I must have been stunned by the blow on the head from behind, for I remember nothing more until I came to my senses again in the small wide shop across the street. Someone had found me lying on the wharf, and they had carried me in there thinking that I was dead." Once more he stopped, and reaching out a rather shaky hand for the tumbler finished off the whisky and soda. "Are you badly hurt?" asked Guy, who had been listening to the narrative with a mixture of amazement and concern. Congosta put his hand to his forehead. "It is nothing serious. Only my head aches very much. I think they would have killed me if it had not been for my hat." "Let's have a look," said Tony. "I know a little about cracked skulls." He came round to where Congosta was sitting, and bending over the latter's chair, very carefully parted the hair at a place where it was matted with congealed blood. "It's a nasty bump," he said sympathetically; "but I don't think there is any real damage done. You must have a very good hatter." "Shall I fetch some hot water and bathe it for you?" suggested Guy, getting up from his seat. Congosta raised his hand protestingly. "It will wait," he said with a certain grimness. "What we are speaking of will not." Tony seated himself on the arm of the opposite chair. "Go on," he said. "What happened when you came round?"