"A passport?" said Russell. "Well, yes, I believe I did get one;" and fumbling in his pocket, he succeeded in bringing to light that important document. This the chief took, and, without opening it, put it in his own pocket. "I'll take a luk at it prisintly," said he. "Perhaps ye can tell me about yer frind, the young man that's wid yez. Is he yer son?" "Son? Oh no; but he's a doosed fine young feller. His name's Rivers." "Is he rich?" "Well, he's pretty comfortable, I think. He's in the wine and fruit business, and has an agency at Barcelona." "Sure an' it's meself that's glad to hear that same," said the chief. "An' can ye tell me anything about that other young man that was shtrivin' to join yer party?" "That fellow--his name's Ashby." "Ashby, is it?" "Yes, and the greatest scoundrel that ever lived--a miserable fortune-hunter, trying to inveigle my ward into a marriage. I came here barely in time to save her. And the only object the infernal scoundrel has now in sneaking after me is to try and get hold of her and get her from me. But he'll find he's got pretty tough work before him. He's got me to deal with this time." "Is the young gyerrul fond av him?" asked the chief, in a tone of deep anxiety. "She? Fond of him? Pooh! Nonsense! She's like all girls--likes to have attentions paid her, that's all; and so this poor fool thought she would marry him. Why, the man's an ass! But I guess he's had enough of chasing her by this time. By Jove! there's some satisfaction, after all, in being caught this way, since he's caught too." Some further conversation followed of the same kind. Russell continued to indulge in a strain of self-glorification, and the chief to ask him questions. By yielding to his silly vanity Russell was preparing the way for results which he little expected. Little did he dream of what was soon to disclose itself. He thought that he was impressing the mind of the Carlist chief with ideas of the greatness, grandeur, power, wealth, and glory of the celebrated Russell whom he had made his prisoner, and hoped in this way to overawe his captor so as to secure good treatment, or even to terrify him into letting him go. He little knew that the chief regarded him merely as a bird to be plucked. In his eyes, the more the feathers the greater the yield. The moment the chief found that his prisoner professed to be a millionnaire, that moment the fate of Russell and his party was sealed. The effect upon the chief was already manifest in part, for every moment he grew more courteous in his manner. "Sure it's meself," said he, at length, "that's bothered about the accommodations ye have. It's a cowld, damp room that, an' no furniture at all at all." "Yes," said Russell, "it _is_ rather rough; and for a man that's accustomed to high living and luxurious surroundings it's very bad. I'm dreadful afraid of rheumatiz."