CHAPTER X
THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK
"Sing to us, Johnnie."
"Mais oui, chantez, Monsieur," said Madame La Motte.
Johnnie took up a chitarrone, the archlute, a large, double-necked Spanish instrument, which lay upon a marble table by his side in the courtyard.
He looked up into the sky, the painted sunset sky of Spain, as if to find some inspiration there.
The hum of Seville came to them in an almost organ-like harmony. Bells were tolling from the cathedral and the innumerable churches; pigeons were wheeling round the domes and spires; occasionally a faint burst of music reached them where they sat.
The young man looked gravely at the two women. His face at this moment was singularly tranquil and refined. He was dressed with scrupulous care—the long journey over, his natural habits resumed. He had all the air and grace of a gallant in a Court.