As a matter of fact, I rather liked him. He had treated me quite candidly; and I was convinced he was satisfied that, whatever might be my real object in coming to the city, it had no connexion with the political situation. His politics were no concern of mine. I was absolutely indifferent whether the King of Portugal was Dom Carlos or Dom Miguel; and it was no part of my duty to tell Volheno or any one else that this keen-eyed smooth-voiced, doctor, who was accepted as a loyalist in this most loyalist of gatherings, was in reality a secret agent of the Pretender endeavouring to exploit this National League in the interests of his master.
The only point where the thing threatened to affect me was in regard to Sampayo. Barosa had admitted that they were under great obligations to him, and I read this to mean that some of old Oom Paul’s money was finding its way into the coffers of the cause.
If, in return for the money, Sampayo had stipulated for the support of Barosa and the rest in regard to Miralda, there might be trouble. But I was so confident of being able to bring that scoundrel to his knees that I could view even such an alliance without concern.
What I had to do first was to get at Miralda’s own feelings and the reasons behind her engagement, and for that I must do my best to secure her mother as an ally.
The viscontesse greeted me with a smile and a shake of the head. “You’ve neglected me shamefully, Mr. Donnington. Here’s nearly the whole evening gone and we’ve scarcely had a word together.”
“I hope we shall have many opportunities. I assure you I have not had a minute to myself the whole evening, and after all a place like this is not the best in the world for a real friendly talk.”
“When can you spare time to come and see us?”
“May I come?”
“May you come, indeed? Why of course you not only may, but must. Now when?”
“Shall you be at home to-morrow?”