"Possibly," said Juanita, appreciating the retort; "but not so strange as that. Marry him!"
Her gesture was imperial in its disdain.
"Another of Miguel's lies!" said Jack. "But," he added thoughtfully, "there was usually a motive behind them. What can it be this time? He gave me so many details; said it had all been arranged between your father and Don Esteban; he was to have the business; and all the rest of it."
"Ridiculous! My father would have been the very last to think of such a thing. He distrusted him—with good cause."
And then she proceeded to give Jack a narrative from which, as the tale was unfolded, he gained more than an inkling of Don Miguel's designs.
More than two years before, when Napoleon formed his alliance with Spain, Don Fernan Alvarez, a shrewd observer of events, had suspected that the ostensible object of despoiling Portugal was only a ruse by which the emperor intended to make himself master of the whole peninsula. Foreseeing a period of confusion and anarchy, the old merchant resolved to take time by the forelock and set his house in order. He went to Barcelona, the headquarters of the business, and proceeded to realize his stock as far as possible, with the intention of converting it into bullion or valuables which could be laid aside as a provision for his own declining years and his daughter's future. On going into the accounts of the firm he found that Don Esteban Priego's books showed large deficiencies, threatening to more than cover his interest, not a great one, in the business. When the matter was brought to light, Don Esteban was much distressed. He had been for some time in failing health, and had left the management of his branch almost entirely in the hands of his son Miguel, who, however, when brought to book by his father's partner, indignantly protested against the implied charge of dishonesty, and declared that if there was anything wrong he at any rate was absolutely clean-handed. There was no time to investigate the matter fully. After a stormy interview Don Fernan left the office in charge of a trusted clerk, and, taking with him the large sum of money he had realized, together with the unsatisfactory books, set out for Saragossa a few days before Barcelona was seized by the French.
Owing to the disturbed state of the country he thought it wise to travel with an escort of some score of well-armed men, half of them his own retainers, half alguazils. From some undefined motive of prudence he kept his departure secret until the last moment. But, despite this precaution, the party was ambushed at dusk, at a lonely spot on the hills within two marches of Saragossa, by a horde of brigands. The escort made a stout resistance, but being taken entirely at a disadvantage by superior numbers they were overpowered. Don Fernan himself was severely wounded in the first moment of attack; several of his men were killed or disabled; and the rest, seeing their case hopeless, made their escape.
The brigands were about to kill the wounded, on the principle that dead men tell no tales, when a body of French horsemen rode down the hill at a gallop. One startled glance, and the bandits hurriedly decamped. At that time the French were posing as disinterested friends of Spain. The cavaliers showed every attention to the wounded men, assisted Don Fernan into Saragossa, and with a self-restraint that was remarkable in the light of the subsequent behaviour of their countrymen, handed over to him his books and boxes untouched. This was a double relief to the merchant, for, if what he learnt on the way from his old body-servant José was true, he had not only saved the treasure for his daughter, but preserved it from the hands of the one man whom he had recently had so much reason to mistrust. José had been stunned during the fight by a blow from a clubbed musket. On recovering consciousness he was amazed to recognize, among the assailants, no other than Don Miguel Priego. He could not be sure. At that moment the French appeared and the brigands fled. But he felt that he could hardly have been mistaken.
"That was where Miguel got his scar," said Jack to himself at this point of the story.
A few months after Don Fernan's return to Saragossa the French began the first siege of the city. He contributed largely to the funds raised for the defence, and though scarcely able to walk played a not inconsiderable part in the actual work behind the walls. But such unwonted exertions tried his already enfeebled health. He had never thoroughly recovered from his wound. The troubles of the siege were too great a strain for a man of his age. And though his strength revived a little when the French were so signally beaten, he was again ailing when the news of the fatal day of Tudela broke his last hold on life. The Saragossans gave him honoured burial.