“Yes, yes. I know what I told you. He was with Gaspara. But—he has escaped!”
Miguel sat back in his chair, his legs extended and his arms by his sides, staring stupidly at Solado.
“How was it?” he managed to ask at last. “How did he escape?”
“Just ran away when Gaspara’s men were not attending to their duty,” growled Solado. “He might not have got off even then, only that he had a motor car waiting for him not far away, with his physician, a Doctor Fordham, and a valet. It is all that fellow Jason’s fault. He did not take proper precautions. He knew those two men were with the prince.”
“Didn’t he do anything to make them safe?” asked Miguel.
“Yes. He gave them something in their coffee that made them sleep, at Mala’s house in Paron. But they woke up in the morning, trailed the car to Gaspara’s place, and took Marcos away.”
“In fact, a blunder has been made all around,” snarled Miguel. “Well, we must do something, quickly, or we shall have Marcos here before the treaty is signed. He is on his way, of course.”
“I know he is. He was seen in Paron this morning. He went to Mala’s for some of his baggage that had been taken out of the car, and then started for Penza. I got a telegram from Mala.”
“Mala deserves recognition. I’ll see that he has it if we keep Marcos away. The question is, how can we do it?”
“Give me twenty cavalrymen, and I’ll keep him out of Joyalita,” suddenly declared Solado, with more energy than he had heretofore shown. “Young Lieutenant Trenzini is aching to have some chance to show his loyalty to you. What is more, he hates Marcos.”