"There are very few things in this world that are impossible," said Moreno, a little impatiently. "The first idea I had was that you would frankly throw yourself on the compassion of Contraras, tell him that this man was once your lover, and that you must be excused from taking part in the proceedings on the ground of common humanity. The question is, would that work? It might, because I know he is still remorseful about the fate of Valerie Delmonte. But we are not sure. He is a fanatic of the deepest dye." "Absolutely a fanatic," corroborated Mrs Hargrave. "To him the welfare of the brotherhood is the one supreme thing. All human emotions must be subjugated, all consideration of friends and kindred swept aside, in pursuance of the one object." "I am disposed to agree," said Moreno. "Contraras' sense of compassion is a doubtful factor. We will discard that idea. Will you put yourself in my hands?" She looked intently into the dark, brilliant eyes, and what she read there reassured her. He was stubbornly secretive, but he was kind and sympathetic. He was ready to do his best to serve her. "Yes, I will," she said bravely. "I trust you." "Good! Then that is settled. Alvedero will call for you to-morrow evening as arranged, but you will not accompany him. He will come alone." "How are you going to do it?" she cried breathlessly. Her admiration for the man had grown intensely during the last few days. He seemed able to work miracles. "I shall keep that a secret too till to-morrow morning, when I shall be round at eleven o'clock. If I told you now, you would not get a wink of sleep all night." "I shall not get a wink of sleep as it is," she answered. But, secretive to the last, Moreno was not to be tempted into frankness. "Oh, yes, you will. Anyway, you have promised to leave yourself in my hands. To-morrow morning, at eleven o'clock." They shook hands without another word. Moreno walked back to his lodgings reflecting deeply. Was this attractive young woman really as bad as he had once thought? Was she not rather a creature of strong passions, of impulses at times ungovernable? Were there not in her womanly feelings that could be cherished and fostered by sympathetic companionship? Anyway, if she followed his instructions, as she had agreed to do, he had secured her safety as well as his own. And that would be a result that would gratify him exceedingly. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. Save for a little impatience when his judgment was impugned, or somebody questioned the soundness of his opinions, Moreno was a person of the most equable temperament, and singularly light hearted. Still, when he rose early on the morning of this most eventful day, he was in a very grave and thoughtful mood. He was playing a most difficult and dangerous game. Even if he outwitted the Heads of the brotherhood in Spain, as he believed he had, there were left Lucue and Jaques in London to deal with.