“Yes. There was some mention of it the other day,” Geoffrey replied. “They were having trouble with their valve-panel at the wireless station at Aranjuez, which belongs to the Compania Naçional, and I heard that it was proposed that I should go out to see what I can make of it.”
“How splendid if we are in Madrid together—eh?” exclaimed the girl enthusiastically. “I do hope we shall manage it. The Mapletons go back in six weeks’ time, and we go with them. He’s an English banker in Madrid.”
Just at that moment one of the guests entered the room, so the lovers were forced to return to the drawing-room, where a little later Geoffrey found himself talking to the rather handsome young woman who had sat beside him at dinner. She was dark, with a very clear complexion and great black eyes, a graceful figure, and a sweet and winning smile. Her husband, to whom she introduced him, was some ten years her senior, a tall, rather spare man with an aquiline face somewhat bronzed by the southern sun.
They chatted together, whereupon Mrs. Mapleton mentioned that Mrs. Beverley and her daughter were travelling with them to Madrid. Then Geoffrey remarked that he would, in all probability, be in the Spanish capital at the same time, and explained the reason of his journey.
“Well, if you are in Madrid, Mr. Falconer, you won’t fail to come and see us—will you?” urged the lady. “We live out at El Pardo—only half an hour from Madrid.”
Geoffrey thanked her, and promised that if he went to Spain he would certainly call upon her.
Two months later he found himself at the old-fashioned Hôtel de Pastor at Aranjuez, which is thirty miles from the capital, and not far from the great wireless station. After remaining there two days making his preliminary investigations of the work he had in hand, he one day took train to Madrid, and went out in a taxi along the terribly dusty road to El Pardo.
He found the house without any difficulty—a great country mansion in the Spanish style—surrounded by beautiful grounds. The door was opened by an elderly English butler, who showed him in and took his card at once to his mistress. In a few seconds Sylvia, who had been eagerly watching her lover’s arrival, rushed forward and greeted him warmly, while almost at the same moment their hostess appeared and gladly welcomed the young fellow.
It was just before luncheon, so Geoffrey, after being shown the glorious gardens and the views, was compelled to remain, and sat down with Mrs. Mapleton, her husband, the South American widow, and Sylvia. The meal was served with considerable pomp by the butler, Martin, the whole staff of servants being English. Mrs. Mapleton, when Martin was out of the room, remarked that she had become tired of the slovenly ways of Spanish servants, and therefore she had engaged English ones, all of them having been in service with English families in France or Italy.
“Martin is, of course, our mainstay,” she added. “He speaks Spanish well, which is a great thing, as we naturally have many Spanish visitors.”