“This messenger, who I think may be trusted by you, has made arrangements with me which she will explain. I approve, though the risk is great. Your cousin is a brave girl, but, understand, I do not force her to this dangerous enterprise. She must choose her own road, only I promise that if she escapes and we live I will not forget her deed. The messenger will bring me your answer. God be with us all, and farewell.

“J.C.”

Margaret read this letter first to herself and then aloud to Betty, and, having read, tore it into tiny fragments and threw them from the turret window.

“Speak now,” she said; and Inez told her everything.

“Can you trust the priest?” asked Margaret, when she had finished.

“He is a great villain, as I have reason to know; still, I think I can,” she answered, “while the cabbage is in front of the donkey’s nose—I mean until he has got all the money. Also, he has committed himself by taking some on account. But before we go further, the question is—does this lady play?” and she pointed to Betty.

“Yes, I play,” said Betty, when she understood everything. “I won’t go back upon my word; there is too much at stake. It is an ugly business for me, I know well enough, but,” she added slowly, setting her firm mouth, “I have debts to pay all round, and I am no Spanish putty to be squeezed flat—like some people,” and she glanced at the humble-looking Inez. “So, before all is done, it may be uglier for him.”

When she had mastered the meaning of this speech the soft-voiced Inez lifted her gentle eyes in admiration, and murmured a Spanish proverb as to what is supposed to occur when Satan encounters Beelzebub in a high-walled lane. Then, being a lady of resource and experience, the plot having been finally decided upon, not altogether with Margaret’s approval, who feared for Betty’s fate when it should be discovered, Inez began to instruct them both in various practical expedients, by means of which the undoubted general resemblance of these cousins might be heightened and their differences toned down. To this end she promised to furnish them with certain hair-washes, pigments, and articles of apparel.

“It is of small use,” said Betty, glancing first at herself and then at the lovely Margaret, “for even if they change skins, who can make the calf look like the fawn, though they chance to feed in the same meadow? Still, bring your stuffs and I will do my best; but I think that a thick veil and a shut mouth will help me more than any of them, also a long gown to hide my feet.”

“Surely they are charming feet,” said Inez politely, adding to herself, “to carry you whither you wish to go.” Then she turned to Margaret and reminded her that the marquis desired to see her, and waited for her answer.