Moreno smiled his subtle smile. "My dear friend, I am sending weekly articles up to Fleet Street on this delightful country, and its equally delightful population. In short, I am `booming' Spain. I am the innocent journalist, out on a much needed holiday." Rossett smiled. "You are a very wonderful man. _Au revoir_." That night three letters were written to London. One was from Guy addressed to his sister, and it contained the important question, had his father anything to do with his appointment to Madrid; in other words, did he owe his promotion to anything except his own merits? Mary's reply came back in due course. It was distinctly conciliatory and diplomatic. But, as Mary was not very adapt at telling a lie, the truth peeped through. It was evident to Guy that Lord Saxham had exercised his influence to get his son to Spain, with the view of separating him from Isobel; Guy felt very bitter towards his father. He felt it was something in the nature of a dirty trick, diplomatic perhaps, but none the less of a questionable nature. Moreno wrote two letters. The first was to Lady Mary Rossett. He had not even been introduced to that charming young woman, but such an elementary fact as that did not deter him. He explained who he was, he recalled the evening at the Savoy. He pointed out that her brother was in great danger, and that she should use all the influence of her family to get Guy recalled on some pretext or another. He added that he had met Guy in Madrid and urged this course upon him, that Guy on scenting danger, with the stubborn pride of the Englishman, had refused to abandon his post. The second letter he sent to the head of the English Secret Service with a request that it should be shown to Greatorex. The motive of the second letter was the same as the first, that Guy Rossett should be got out of harm's way, before an anarchist knife should be dug in his ribs. Mary took the letter to her father. She was very genuinely alarmed; she also had a faint recollection of the swarthy young Spaniard who had sat at an adjoining table on that well-remembered evening at the Savoy. He had mentioned in his letter that he was a member of the Secret Service. She was disposed to trust him. She thrust the letter into Lord Saxham's hand with an almost tragic gesture. "Now, father, you can see what you have done by sending him over to Spain. That wily old Greatorex wanted to use him just for his own purpose, and you fell in pat with his scheme." Lord Saxham read the letter, and his face blanched. "Oh, my poor boy," he groaned. His daughter loved him, but at the bottom of her heart there was always a little good-humoured contempt. He was so terribly weak. Headstrong, violent, and explosive, but always weak. Lady Mary spoke irritably; she was tender and compassionate, but not in the least weak.