‘Oh no,’ said Estella without much interest.
‘We have also heard rather disquieting news about our pleasant friend, Mr. Conyngham,’ said the General, examining the tassel of his sword. ‘And I think it is only right to tell you that I fear we have been deceived in him.’
There was silence for a few moments, and then Vincente spoke again.
‘In these times, one is almost compelled to suspect one’s nearest friends. Much harm may be done by being over-trustful, and appearances are so consistently against Mr. Conyngham that it would be folly to ignore them.’
The General waited for Estella to make some comment, and after a pause continued:
‘He arrived in Ronda under singularly unfortunate circumstances, and I was compelled to have his travelling companion shot. Then occurred that affair of the letter, which he gave to Julia—an affair which has never been explained. Conyngham would have to show me that letter before I should be quite satisfied. I obtained for him an introduction to General Espartero in Madrid. That was six or seven weeks ago. The introduction has not been presented, nor has Conyngham been seen in Madrid. In England, on his own confession, he was rather a scamp; why not the same in Spain?’
The General spread out his hands in his favourite gesture of deprecation. He had not made the world, and while deeply deploring that such things could be, he tacitly admitted that the human race had not been, creatively speaking, a complete success.
Father Concha was brushing invisible grains of snuff from his cassock sleeve and watching Estella with anxious eyes.
‘I only tell you, my dear,’ continued the General, ‘so that we may know how to treat Mr. Conyngham should we meet him in Madrid. I liked him. I like a roving man—and many Englishmen are thus wanderers—but appearances are very much against him.’
‘Yes,’ admitted Estella quietly. ‘Yes.’