The disappointed alcalde was not long in leaving the room.
"Ah! Señor Cavalier," said the huesped, who had witnessed the whole scene, "you are a foreigner, it is true, but you did not come into the country yester day."
I pretended not to comprehend the compliment he had paid me, and threw a last glance at the poor Biscayan. His face wore that aspect of serenity and peace which often appears on men who have died a violent death. A quiet smile played upon his lips. Though only commenced a few days before, the short connection I had had with Don Jaime was now closed. As regards the mysterious link which bound me to Don Tomas, that was not broken for some time after ward.
A year had passed since the death of the Biscayan. I had quitted Mexico. Besides the promise I had given Don Jaime, a less romantic motive, one quite personal, led me into Spain. The embers of the civil war were then fast dying out. The diligences which plied between Bayonne and Madrid, and the towns between those cities, had stopped running in consequence of the Carlist bands which infested the Basque frontier. I reached Bilboa, and it was only at great expense that I could procure a pair of horses and a guide. This man, who was to leave me at Vergara, from whence I could reach St. Sebastian, had himself served in the Carlist ranks. From Bilboa to Vergara is almost thirty miles. Throughout this wide extent of country, the people in the villages, fearing invasion, had emigrated in bands, and the road, dangerous even at its best, would have appeared very long without the stories of my guide. We arrived at Vergara at night-
