Farquhar looked at her a little quizzically. "You have, I should say, a most beautiful nature; you see good in everything and everybody, don't you?" Lady Mary shook her head. "No. I am more discriminating than you think. I fancy I can always tell the false from the true." "I wonder how you would reckon me up?" "I will tell you, if you really wish," was Mary's candid answer. "Yes, I do wish, honestly." "You are frightfully, painfully just. You are terribly cautious. And--" She paused, and a faint blush spread over her cheek. "Don't spoil it, please. Finish what you were going to say. I can see you are a very discerning critic." Mary was a long time before she would answer. Then she turned away, and her blush deepened. "I should say loyalty and honesty were your greatest characteristics. That you would be a sincere friend and a very generous enemy." She was leaving the room, but Farquhar darted up and detained her. "I say, you know, that is the very greatest compliment I have ever had paid me," he said, roused from his usual impassivity. "Will you think I am taking a liberty if I suggest that we shake hands on it?" "Oh, not at all," said Mary, in a rather fluttering way, as she put her hand in his. She left the room, and he set about to write his letter to Moreno. But the disturbing vision of Lady Mary, with that faint flush on her cheek, appeared several times between the sentences of the rather lengthy epistle. That letter went out by the evening post. About the same time that these events were happening at the Park, Ferdinand Contraras was taking farewell of his family. He explained to them that he was going to Spain, he could not say how long he would be away. It might be a few days, it might be weeks. He had left plenty of money in the bank for their needs. His wife and daughter watched him out of the house without any signs of emotion. To these two, who should have been his nearest and dearest, he had long appeared as a man out of touch with realities. When the car rolled out of sight, Madame Contraras turned to her daughter. "I have a presentiment, Inez, he will never come back. He is going to give his life as well as his fortune to this insane cause." Inez, who was rather callous, shrugged her shapely shoulders. "Why did you marry him, mother? He must have been mad then." "The madness of strong, impetuous youth, my child. I never thought it would last through middle and old age." CHAPTER TWELVE. Contraras embarked on his great mission. Elderly man as he was, the fire of his convictions kept him alert and youthful. He stayed a day in Madrid; from thence he travelled to Barcelona. And then he went on to Fonterrabia. In the same little cafe, the "Concha," he met several members of the brotherhood, Zorrilta, specially summoned, Alvedero, Andres Moreno, Violet Hargrave, and Mademoiselle Delmonte.