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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Yes," she replied to my query concerning her parent's name, "my father is the Senor Don Juan d'Alta; in the old time of our monarchy he was for many years the Prime Minister. He is a very old man is my father," she further explained; "he is nearly seventy!" Looking at her I could understand the old man simply making an idol of this his only child.
"It was then that in my desperation, when I knew I was to be a mother soon, I confided all to Don Juan d'Alta, and by so doing perhaps saved my life and my child's." "Yes, but for the intervention of Don Juan d'Alta, my Chancellor at that time," continued the old lady, "my life might have ended in despair.
For, indeed, I was agitated at the prospect of the interview which was to come in a few minutes with old Don Juan d'Alta, not only for our sake, but for the sake of the dear old lady at Bath, who I doubted not was now dead, and the packet she had confided to my care. It was a comfort to sit with Dolores' little hand in mine. My other clasped the precious packet in my trousers pocket.
I am taking Mrs. Darbyshire and the Señorita with me too. They both want reassuring, and the morale of the escort will do that. I shall take them right home." "Thank you very much," I answered, "that will suit me down to the ground. My mission is to deliver a packet to Don Juan d'Alta himself." "Then come along," added Sir Rupert, "for, of course, the ladies are going there too."
"Very clever of you, Jack," I answered, "and I'm very much obliged to you for thinking of it, but I am glad that the poor devil didn't take it after all. I believe it to be my duty to take it to Don Juan d'Alta, even at the risk of my life." St. Nivel sat thinking a moment or two; then he spoke. "Why do you use the term 'poor devil'?" he asked, "when you speak of the robber chief?"
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