“But, what more?” cried Lafelle. “I saw the portrait in the Royal Gallery, years ago, in Madrid. It impressed me. I could not forget the sad, sweet face. I saw it again in the stained-glass window in the Ames yacht. I became suspicious. I inquired when I returned to Spain. There was much whispering, much shaking of heads, but little information. But this I know: the queen, the great Isabella, had a lover, a wonderful tenor, Marfori, Marquis de Loja. And one day a babe was taken quietly to a little cottage in the Granada hills. Rumor said that it was an Infanta, and that the tenor was its father. Who knew? One man, perhaps: old Rafaél de Rincón. But 239 Rome suddenly recalled him from Isabella’s court, and after that he was very quiet.”
“But, Ames?” persisted Haynerd.
Lafelle shrugged his shoulders. “Mr. Ames,” he said, “traveled much in Europe. He went often to Spain. He bought a vineyard in Granada––the one from which he still procures his wine. And there––who knows?––he met the Infanta. But probably neither he nor she guessed her royal birth.”
“Well! Good Lord! Then––?”
“Well, they eloped––who knows? Whether married or not, I can not say. But it is evident she went with him to Colombia, where, perhaps, he was seeking a concession from Congress in Bogotá. So far, so good. Then came the news of his father’s sudden death. He hastened out of the country. Possibly he bade her wait for his return. But a prospective mother is often excitable. She waited a day, a week––who knows how long? And then she set out to follow him. Alas! she was wild to do such a thing. And it cost her life. She died at the little riverine town of Badillo, after her babe, Carmen, was born. Is it not plausible?”
“God above!” cried Haynerd. “And the girl’s wonderful voice?”
“A heritage from her grandfather, the tenor, Marfori,” Lafelle suggested.
“But––the portraits––what is the name under that of Ames? Guillermo? That is not his!”
“Yes, for Guillermo in Spanish is William. Doubtless Ames told her his name was Will, contracted from Wilton, the name he went by in his youth. And the nearest the Spanish could come to it was Guillermo. Diego’s name was Guillermo Diego Polo. And after he had seen that name in the locket he used it as a further means of strengthening his claim upon the girl.”
“Then––she is––a––princess!”