Moreno hastened to corroborate. He knew that Violet Hargrave was watching him narrowly. "The sooner the better," he said heartily. "He knows too much." "A great deal too much!" burst in Zorrilta angrily. "The question is, where did he get his information from? Some traitor, of course." Moreno glanced at Violet Hargrave. He had his suspicions of her, but not a muscle of her countenance moved. His suspicions of her then were not confirmed. But Violet said nothing in reply to Zorrilta's angry outburst. There came a diversion. Father Gonzalo passed the window of the small sitting-room. His hawklike eye peered through the window. "_Dios_!" cried Zorrilta, jumping up. "That accursed priest again! He roves about here like an evil spirit." "Who is he, this priest?" cried Moreno eagerly. He had seen the lean figure of the father passing the window, and had noted the keen, inquisitive glance. Zorrilta explained what he had learned from the intelligent fisherman Somoza. Father Gonzalo was a Jesuit, not attached to the Church of Santa Gadea. He was suspected of being a spy in the pay of the Government. Moreno rose. "Shall I go and sample this gentleman?" he said. "I can play the role of the devout Catholic very well." Zorrilta and Alvedero grinned. They were both nominal Catholics, but their religion did not trouble them very much. They were pleased with the enterprising spirit of their new recruit. "Go my friend, come back and report to us." Moreno, well pleased, strode out, and soon overtook the priest, who was walking leisurely. "Good evening, Father," he said pleasantly. He also added a few Spanish words which were a password. When he heard those magic words, the priest's lean, ascetic face changed at once. "You are one of us?" he asked briefly. "Of course. My name is Moreno. I am attached to the English Secret Service, and I am helping your Government to beat the anarchists." "Good," said Father Gonzalo. "Those people I saw you with in the little sitting-room at the `Concha,' I know the two well, Zorrilta and Alvedero; the woman I do not know. I take it they are all anarchists. You are joining up with them for your own purposes." "Precisely," answered Moreno. "Keep your eyes open too. This is, at present, the headquarters of the conspiracy." "My son, good night," said the wily Jesuit in his most paternal tones. "We shall meet again. You have, of course, made a good excuse for leaving your friends, and running after me." Moreno smiled. "When I return I shall give the best report of you, a report that I trust will disarm suspicion. But it is as well to put you on your guard. You have a very keen enemy here, one Carlos Somoza, a fisherman. Conciliate him, if you can." The Jesuit's dark eyes flashed. "I know him. The dirty dog. I will be on my guard. I will go to Santa Gadea, and pray for my sins."