“I came in to tell you that everything is attended to, Don Solado. We have Prince Marcos safely in the hands of Gaspara, and there is nothing to interfere.”
“Good, Jason! You have done well. I will see that proper notice is taken of your services. Prince Miguel will be in supreme power in Joyalita after the council to-day, and I feel that I am safe in promising you an important official position in the palace.”
“I thank you, Don Solado,” returned Jason. “There is a Doctor Fordham, who traveled with the prince, besides Phillips, his man—who used to be my immediate superior in the household—and another man, engaged to take my place, I believe. They will perhaps come to Joyalita.”
Don Solado, the prime minister, and the man who had engineered the plot to deprive Prince Marcos of his birth-right, as well as to sell the country to the neighboring country of Carita, got up from his chair and walked up and down the room as a sort of vent for his anger.
“That rascal Phillips must not be allowed to cross the border line of Joyalita. Where is Prince Miguel?”
“In his own apartments.”
“I’ll go and see him.”
It was at this moment that the door opened again. This time it admitted no less a person than Prince Miguel himself. He was in an even more gorgeous military uniform than Don Solado, and he carried himself with the hauteur which had distinguished him while in New York, only with more of it.
Jason slipped out of the room. Miguel threw himself into a chair near the big table and looked inquiringly at Solado.
“Everything has been arranged, Miguel,” said Solado, adopting the familiar tone which was his customary one when speaking to Prince Miguel alone. “We have that troublesome fellow shut up in the mountains, in charge of my amiable friend Gaspara.”