“You will not think I am taking a liberty, my good comrade, if I say a few words to you. We have a difficult team to drive. Many of our brotherhood, most, alas, are very poor. Exception is taken by some of them to your mode of living. They think the great Contraras should bring himself more on a level with his less fortunate brethren.”
Contraras frowned. By nature he was more autocratic than the most despotic monarch who even subjugated a docile people. But he recognised that Luçue’s words conveyed a warning.
“What would they have? My wife has said the same thing to me, and at the time I fancied it was the foolish babbling of a woman. Now I see that there was some wisdom in her remarks.”
“Equality is our watchword,” observed Luçue with a rather subtle smile.
“Of course,” agreed Contraras smoothly. “That is our aim, our goal. But, under present conditions, we cannot practise it. I have, as you know, given the greater portion of my money to the cause. I have proved my sincerity. You will say I have left some for myself. True, but that is a wise policy. I live here in a certain sort of comfort. The position I keep up helps me to remain unsuspected. Nobody will think I am such a fool as to embrace anarchy. With these trappings, I can work better for the cause than if I hid myself in a back street in Soho.”
Luçue agreed. The chief had a long head. Luçue might envy, but he could not refrain from admiring him.
Contraras broke away from the embarrassing topic of inequality in fortune. He spoke brusquely.
“To return to this Englishman, Rossett. You think you can settle his hash?”
Luçue nodded his big head. “It is settled, as I told you. I am working in conjunction with Alvedero and Zorrilta.”
“No two better men, they are staunch to the core, true sons of Spain,” said Contraras approvingly. “One thing I would love to know, Luçue. Who supplied Rossett with his information?”