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Updated: June 27, 2025
When, however, I descended from my bedroom at 7.45, after partaking of a delicious petit déjeuner of coffee, milk, bread, and fruit in my apartment, I found Don Juan d'Alta ready for the road, and the motor at the door. In five minutes St. Nivel joined us. "I didn't like to be left behind, old sportsman," he exclaimed.
"Yes; Razzaro triumphed," he replied; "and, as a matter of fact, thoroughly got hold of the popular favour. His son is President of the Republic at the present moment. Old Razzaro made a sort of family living of the Presidency." "And Don Juan d'Alta retired into private life?" I ventured. "Into private life and the society of his reptiles," added the old diplomatist, rising.
"But for those children playing around that tomb this afternoon," remarked d'Alta, "this body might have lain there undiscovered for years. It was a cunning mind which thought of using an old grave as a receptacle for a fresh body." We strolled backwards and forwards on the grass-grown pathway, and I kept the old gentleman as far as I could from the open grave.
I knew him from the first moment he had opened his lips, despite his disguise, to be the Duke of Rittersheim, or "Saumarez," as he had called himself. "Don Juan d'Alta," he began, "I know you very well, and I don't suppose you have forgotten me." "I know your voice, Your Serene Highness," responded the old Don, with a distinct accentuation of the title. "Very well," replied the Duke.
We possessed our spirits in contentment, and awaited his coming, whilst d'Alta expatiated on the rigours of the Trappists' life, their isolation, their silence, their exactness in the keeping of the Office of the Church. I fear this discourse, earnest though it was on the part of our host, was lost upon St.
He gave a great cry and dropped the casket and the revolver immediately. Within a second or two I had them in my hands, and at the same moment the door opened and Don Juan d'Alta entered. He rapped out a great Spanish oath, and a good many more words in the same language; then he turned to me. "Who is this man?" he asked. "That is one of the men," I answered at once, "who attacked the train.
"You will see both there in dozens," replied d'Alta; "there are nearly three hundred monks there."
It was on the fourth day out that I became acquainted with Dolores d'Alta. While I had been lying disconsolately on my cot, St. Nivel had been improving the shining hour by looking after Miss Dolores, who had taken up her position, during the first few days of her trial, in a sheltered position on the promenade deck, in preference to her "stuffy cabin," as she called her state room.
"Those were happy days, Dolores," she continued, "those first years when your father and I ruled the people of Aquazilia. I had had a reign of ten years when your grandfather died and young Don Juan took the reins of government as my adviser; no one ever thought of contesting his right to it. Was he not a d'Alta?
"Yes," agreed Sir Rupert; "and her Prime Minister, or Chancellor as they called him, Don Juan d'Alta, was not much better. He had the misfortune to possess the nature of a modern Bayard, and believed in everybody, until he found out too late that he had been deceived. That is how Queen Inez lost her throne.
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