But at times it seemed to her quick woman's ears that there was a false note in his cheerful tones, that he was not so certain of the ultimate result as he pretended to be. Moreno came to see her every day too. She had conceived a strong liking for the black-browed young journalist. Moreover, she had great faith in him. Guy, of course, was her king amongst men. But she was not so hopelessly in love that she could not distinguish between the mental qualities of the two. Guy was very intelligent; he could snatch at the hints of others, and shape his course of conduct on them. But Moreno had a subtle and penetrating intellect, a touch of genius. And he combined inspiration with prudence. If Guy talked cheerfully when he was with her, her fears and doubts revived on his departure. Could he look all round and accurately weigh the chances? When Moreno told her to cheer up, and promised that all would be well, she felt fortified. There was a sureness, a quiet power about the man that raised her drooping spirits. "You are sure that you will beat them, you are sure you will save Guy?" she had asked him one day, when he had paid her a brief visit. He spoke very deliberately. "I have outwitted them once before." He looked a little gloomy as he spoke. It went to his kind heart to recall that on that occasion he had been compelled to sacrifice that charming young Frenchwoman, Valerie Delmonte. "I shall outwit them again, believe me." His tone was very confident, Isobel thought. "I am sure you will lay your plans very well, Mr Moreno, but there is many a slip between the cup and the lip." "The cup will be carried to the lip this time without a falter." He spoke with his usual assurance. "Guy always speaks cheerfully too," said Isobel in her simple, straightforward way. "But I am always doubtful when he leaves me." "Mr Rossett does not know what is in my mind, Miss Clandon. And I dare not tell him, for reasons of my own. An incautious confidence might utterly frustrate my plans. I have many helping me, but I have close at hand a man who is going to be my ablest lieutenant. Strange to say, you know that man well." Isobel lifted up to him startled eyes. "You bewilder me. I know so few people." "It will surprise you to know that your cousin, Maurice Farquhar, is in Madrid at the present moment and waiting to receive my instructions." "Maurice Farquhar in Madrid," she repeated. "But why, but why?" "Because I wanted to have a clear-brained, resolute Englishman at my right hand when the supreme moment came. I can't tell you everything. I daren't tell you much. Would you like to see your cousin? I can manage it easily."