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After he had been there a week, Manuel was already provided with the papers that identified him as Sergio Figueroa. Between Mingote, Don Pelayo the amanuensis, and a friend of theirs called Peñalar, they forged them with most exquisite skill.

“And now what shall we do?” asked the baroness.

Mingote stood wrapped in thought. If the baroness were to write to Don Sergio, that old fellow, in all probability, since he was now suspicious, might take the whole matter sceptically. They must, therefore, discover some indirect procedure,—they must let him get the news from a third party.

“Suppose it were to be from a confessor? What do you think of that?” asked Mingote.

“A confessor?”

“Yes. A priest who would present himself in Don Sergio’s home and inform him that, under the seal of confession, you had told him....”

“No, no,” interrupted the baroness. “And where is this priest?”

“Peñalar will go, in disguise.”

“No. Besides, Don Sergio knows that I’m not very religious.”

“Then perhaps a schoolmaster would be better.”