“I know. Therefore we should both act warily, and await the next development. In the meantime I will make some inquiries regarding the Garcias, who are so well-known here in Madrid.”
What Sylvia had suggested at once aroused Geoffrey’s curiosity, and that evening he took his idol back to the Mapletons at El Pardo, where he was invited to remain to dinner.
He watched Mr. Mapleton and the doctor’s wife very carefully, but he could not detect any sign of undue admiration. Indeed the banker scarcely took any notice of her, being much more attentive to Mrs. Beverley, his guest, while the bald-headed Dr. Garcia was most affable to Geoffrey himself.
The dinner was a merry meal, and every one was chatting about the lovely motor-run they had made during the warm afternoon out to Sonseca, in the Mountains of Toledo, while Martin, grave-faced and urbane, served his master’s guests in eloquent silence.
Falconer, sorely puzzled, left early to get back to Aranjuez. He could now fully understand the suspicions of Sylvia, yet he felt inclined to dismiss them, for he could discover nothing unusual in the Mapleton ménage.
Next evening, however, after his work was over, he went into Madrid in order to institute the inquiries he had promised Sylvia to make.
Of several persons whom he had met since his arrival from England he made inquiry regarding Dr. Garcia. From an old Spaniard, who was manager of an antique shop in the Calle de Don Pedro, and whom he had met out at Aranjuez with one of the wireless operators, he learned a few interesting facts concerning the bald-headed doctor.
“Oh, yes,” replied the old fellow in broken English, “Dr. Garcia is very well known in Madrid. He married a woman from Burgos, Carolina Almagro, about five years ago. She was previously engaged to marry the English banker, Señor Mapleton.”
“What?” gasped Geoffrey. “Was Madame Garcia once engaged to marry Mr. Mapleton?”
“Oh, yes, señor. Every one in Madrid knows that.”