Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
HOW PETER MET THE SPANIARD
JOHN CASTELL
PETER GATHERS VIOLETS
LOVERS DEAR
CASTELL'S SECRET
FAREWELL
NEWS FROM SPAIN
D'AGUILAR SPEAKS
THE SNARE
THE CHASE
THE MEETING ON THE SEA
FATHER HENRIQUES
THE ADVENTURE OF THE INN
INEZ AND HER GARDEN
PETER PLAYS A PART
BETTY SHOWS HER TEETH
THE PLOT
THE HOLY HERMANDAD
BETTY PAYS HER DEBTS
ISABELLA OF SPAIN
BETTY STATES HER CASE
THE DOOM OF JOHN CASTELL
FATHER HENRIQUES AND THE BAKER'S OVEN
THE FALCON STOOPS
HOW THE _MARGARET_ WON OUT TO SEA
ENVOI

own ships fine, raw Spanish wool to be manufactured in England, and with 

it velvet, silks, and wine from Granada; also beautiful inlaid armour of 

Toledo steel. Sometimes, too, he dealt in silver and copper from the 

mountain mines, for Castell was a banker as well as a merchant, or 

rather what answered to that description in those days. 

 

It was said that beneath his shop were dungeon-like store-vaults, built 

of thick cemented stone, with iron doors through which no thief could 

break, and filled with precious things. However this might be, certainly 

in that great house, which in the time of the Plantagenets had been the 

fortified palace of a noble, existed chambers whereof he alone knew the 

secret, since no one else, not even his daughter or Peter, ever crossed 

their threshold. Also, there slept in it a number of men-servants, very 

stout fellows, who wore knives or swords beneath their cloaks, and 

watched at night to see that all was well. For the rest, the 

living-rooms of this house where Castell, Margaret his daughter, and 

Peter dwelt, were large and comfortable, being new panelled with oak 

after the Tudor fashion, and having deep windows that looked out upon 

the garden. 

 

When Peter and Betty reached the door, not that which led into the shop, 

but another, it was to find that Margaret and d'Aguilar, who were 

walking very quickly, must have already passed it, since it was shut, 

and they had vanished. At his knock--a hard one--a serving-man opened, 

and Peter strode through the vestibule, or ante-chamber, into the hall, 

where for the most part they ate and sat, for thence he heard the sound 

of voices. It was a fine room, lit by hanging lamps of olive oil, and 

having a large, open hearth where a fire burned pleasantly, while the 

oaken table in front of it was set for supper. Margaret, who had thrown 

off her cloak, stood warming herself at the fire, and the Senor 

d'Aguilar, comfortably seated in a big chair, which he seemed to have 

known for years, leaned back, his bonnet in his hand, and watched 

her idly. 

 

Facing them stood John Castell, a stout, dark-bearded man of between 

fifty and sixty years of age, with a clever, clean-cut face and piercing 

black eyes. Now, in the privacy of his home, he was very richly attired 

in a robe trimmed with the costliest fur, and fastened with a gold chain 

that had a jewel on its clasp. When Castell served in his shop or sat in 

his counting-house no merchant in London was more plainly dressed; but 


Page 2 from 8:  Back   1  [2]  3   4   5   6   7   8   Forward