I questioned the servants, and the door-keeper replied. A messenger had come for Don Santiago early in the evening. I found the British Minister at Olivia's side when I returned, and a smile of relief upon her face.
"My father made his excuses and went home," she said. "Important business came. He has sent the carriage back."
"May I take you home?" I asked.
"Thank you," said she.
It was getting near to dawn when we drove away. The streets were empty, the houses dark. Olivia kept her face close to the window, and never stirred until we turned the corner into the Calle Madrid. Then she drew back with a low cry of joy. The windows of the great house were ablaze with light. I helped her out of the carriage and rang the bell. We stood in front of the door talking while the coachman drove away to his stables.
"Say nothing to my father," Olivia pleaded. "Promise me, Señor."
I promised readily enough.
"I will come in with you, Señorita," I said. "I must talk with your father"; and I turned impatiently to the door and rang the bell again.
"To-night?" said she.
"Yes," said I. "I promised Harry Vandeleur to look after you."