And Moreno, with his swift intuition, at once grasped the situation. This slender, feminine thing, with her soft ways and graces, was a revengeful and scorned woman. She had loved Rossett, and he had refused to accept her love. He shuddered in his soul to think that the spirit of revenge could carry a woman to such lengths. But he had only to play his part. It would never do to let her know that he suspected, or the tigress's claws would rend himself. "A regrettable but inexorable necessity," he said calmly. "If Rossett menaces the schemes of the brotherhood, he must be got out of the way." CHAPTER SIX. "You got all this information from perfectly reliable sources, Rossett?" The question was asked by the Honourable Percy Stonehenge, His Majesty's Ambassador to the Spanish Court, as the two men sat together in the Ambassador's private room. "Perfectly reliable, sir. I have given you in strict confidence the names of my informants. They are not the sort of men who make mistakes." Mr Stonehenge, true type of the urbane and courteous diplomatist, a man of old family, knitted his brow, and pondered a little before he spoke again. "I had a private letter from Greatorex about this matter. There is no doubt great activity everywhere, but especially in this country. Well, the information you have collected is most valuable. It will be given to the King and his advisers, and they must take the best measures they can." Stonehenge shook his head sadly, after a prolonged pause. "Revolution, my dear fellow, is in the air all over Europe. Even in our commonsense and law-abiding country, there are ominous growlings and mutterings. Everywhere, the proletariat is getting out of hand. Sometimes I feel grateful that I am an old man, that what I dread is coming will not come in my time." Rossett assented gravely. He was taking himself quite seriously now. His deep love for Isobel Clandon had purified him of light fancies. His promotion to this post at Madrid had suggested to him that he might bid adieu to frivolous pursuits, and do a man's work in the world, prove himself a worthy citizen of that vast British Empire of which he was justly proud. Personally, he would have preferred Paris or Rome, or even Vienna. But, at the same time, he was greatly attracted by Spain. A small nation now, it had once been a great one, attaining its zenith under the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. It had produced great geniuses in the immortal domain of the arts--Cervantes, Lopez de Vega, Murillo. Once it had lain prostrate under the iron heel of the Conqueror. Napoleon, who had overrun all Europe, had subjugated the once invincible Spain, crushing her and governing her through the puppet King, his brother, Joseph Bonaparte. Then had come the time of liberation, and the thunder of the British guns, under the leadership of Wellington, had freed her from the foreign yoke.