“Yes. In Spain they regard death at the Crow’s Cliff as the most ignominious end any person can suffer,” remarked her hostess. “I’ve heard all sorts of weird stories about the place, which was a place of execution long before the days of the Inquisition. The peasantry believe that on certain nights the ghosts of black-robed and masked executioners haunt this road.”
The girl laughed.
“Of course the ignorant country folk would naturally invent all sorts of horrible stories.”
“Well, it’s a horrible spot altogether,” declared Falconer. And the party walked back to El Pardo together, where they dined late, and it was past midnight before Geoffrey arrived back at Aranjuez.
While during the next few days he continued his work at the great wireless station there—the station known to all wireless men as “E.A.A.,” and which works so regularly with Poldhu—Sylvia and her mother were taken about the country by their hostess to see old-world Toledo, Villarrubia, Talavera, and the Tetas de Viana.
A bald-headed Spanish doctor named Garcia, with his wife, a very handsome woman, had arrived from Burgos, and were also guests of the Mapletons. The Garcias had lived in Madrid for several years, and were great friends of the Mapletons.
Indeed the truth was that when Dr. Garcia had found himself in serious financial difficulties three years before, the banker had secretly assisted him. Hence the doctor was considerably in his debt.
One evening, a fortnight later, the party had been out to dinner at a neighbouring house, and on their return Mrs. Mapleton was suddenly taken very unwell. Her husband and the others became greatly alarmed, and the faithful Martin, who, in turn, became full of apprehension, called Dr. Garcia, who had already retired to bed.
The doctor, when he examined the lady and noted the symptoms, came to the conclusion that she was suffering from acute indigestion, to which, apparently, she was subject. Something she had eaten at dinner had no doubt affected her, for by three o’clock in the morning she was much easier, and by next day the attack had passed.
Indeed they motored into Madrid in the afternoon, where they visited the wonderful private collection of pictures belonging to the Duke of Alba, and the Prado Museum, afterwards enjoying that wonderful view from the Campillo de las Vistillas. Yet on the same evening Mrs. Mapleton was again taken unwell, and the same remedy which Dr. Garcia had prescribed was resorted to, with the result that two hours later she was quite herself again.