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“But is all this true?”

“As true as I’m the most talented man in all Europe. So get a move on, my future Baron; spruce up, scratch off your dirt, brush your hair, scrape the mud off those filthy sandals of yours, and accompany me to the home of the baroness.”

Manuel was dumfounded; he could not understand what it was all about. But he knew that the agent would not have taken the trouble to run all over town simply for the pleasure of perpetrating a joke upon him.

At once he made ready to accompany Mingote. Together they entered the Calle Ancha de San Bernardo, strode down Los Reyes to the Calle Princesa, and continued along this street until they paused before a wide entrance, into which they disappeared.

They passed into a corridor that led to a wide patio.

A series of galleries with symmetrical rows of chocolate-hued doors surrounded the patio.

Mingote knocked at one of the doors of the gallery on the second floor.

“Who is it?” asked a woman’s voice from within.

“It’s me,” replied Mingote.