[pg 188] “Then he's mad,” I insisted. “Fishing for lobsters with moto-naphtha in a cemetery at Manzanares is a story Baron Munchausen would have thought twice about before telling.”
“Langostas does mean langouste—or lobsters, I suppose, sir?” asked Ropes.
“Ye—es,” I answered thoughtfully. Then lightning flashed across the darkness of my mind. “It means locusts as well,” said I. “They use petrol to kill locusts, and for some reason best known to themselves keep it at the cemetery. We'll go, Ropes, and persuade them to sell us more than an ounce.”
“Right, sir. At once?”
“In a moment,” said I.
Mariquita, empty-handed, was coming downstairs. I waylaid her, under that portion of the balcony hidden from the window of Lady Vale-Avon's room.
“Did you deliver the letter?” I asked.
“Yes, señor.”
“To the young lady herself?”
“To herself. But I must tell you what worries me, señor. As I was leaving the outer room, I heard a sound like a cry of distress, from the inner room. I looked back, and Her Majesty the mother had gone in. That is all I know. I could do nothing, whatever had happened, and I felt it would be well to escape before I could be questioned.”