"Yes, if you wish. I have a cab waiting. Leave a note for these people here explaining your absence. Then put on your things and come with me. I will explain everything as we go along." A few minutes later they were seated side by side, driving to the same obscure quarter of the town which had long ago been reached by the Spanish anarchist Alvedero. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. In a shabby room of a shabby house in one of the most obscure quarters of Madrid, five men were sitting. They were Contraras, Zorrilta, Alvedero, Moreno, and Somoza, the fisherman of Fonterrabia. "Guy Rossett is here, in the next room." It was Moreno who spoke. He turned to the fisherman. "Has he recovered sufficiently, Somoza?" The fisherman answered: "He was still a little bit dazed a minute ago when I left him. The handkerchief I flung over his face contained a pretty strong dose. I should give him another ten minutes before he is ready to face the tribunal." The capture had been easy. Guy Rossett, reckless of danger, had left his flat to pay his visit to Isobel Clandon. Two members of the Secret Police were ready to accompany him. Fearful of compromising Isobel, he had rather roughly dispensed with their services. Reluctantly, they had obeyed him. They agreed between themselves that an Englishman was always pig-headed, a bit of a dare-devil, and inclined to take risks. Guy walked carelessly along. He was in rather good spirits. He had received that day a cheerful note from Moreno that everything was going well, that very soon the heads of the anarchist movement in Spain would be laid by the heels. Of course, in this letter, Moreno did not explain his methods. If he had done so, Guy might not have been in quite such high spirits. For at this moment, playing his very difficult game of saving Guy Rossett, saving himself and Violet Hargrave, and also snaring the anarchists, Moreno could only give his full confidence to one man, his old friend and companion, Maurice Farquhar. As a matter of fact, Rossett never knew what had really taken place that night. He was never told that Moreno knew of his projected visit to Isobel that evening, from a random remark of hers dropped in the afternoon--that he had set Somoza and another tall Biscayan fisherman to follow him, for the purpose of bringing him to the house where the heads of the anarchist movement were assembled in solemn conclave. Rossett walked gaily along. He would have a precious hour with Isobel. In a dark street two men came up behind him. One pinioned his arms from behind. Somoza pressed a saturated handkerchief over his face. In a few seconds the unfortunate young diplomatist was drugged and helpless.